Fifteen months ago, I began a deep letting go process.
I was very sick, suffering from an unexplained exhaustion that kept me housebound for much of the summer.
Coincidentally, for a year my husband and I had been waiting for a larger apartment in our building to become available. We were happy where we were. We just wanted another bedroom and a larger kitchen.
In the beginning of this “sick summer,” one of these larger apartments became available. It was being sold unlisted, by the owner, who would not price it. “What will you pay for it?” he asked.
And so I began to look around, to see what was in the neighborhood that was comparable, to get an educated idea of the value of the apartment.
And along the way, I began to see possibilities that I had never even let myself imagine for us.
I saw apartments, alright. And some not with just an additional room and larger kitchen.
I saw some with balconies and a gorgeous view of the river! With a seasonal pool!
Who were we to have such niceness?
It was a real stretch for my husband and I to imagine buying such an apartment.
The move we had been considering before this exploration of what was out there in our ‘hood would have been almost lateral. If we’d gotten that apartment in our building, we’d have basically recreated the apartment we have had these 8 years since marrying. I am pretty sure we’d literally have just brought over everything, just changed the kitchen and added a room.
We’ve both loved the home we made together. Somehow, his furniture and the furniture we brought up from my parents’ houses in Texas after my Dad died three months before our marriage all blended into an eclectic, beautiful style.
We have loved our home.
But I now realize that even before the summer, I had been working towards this letting go, this deep clean, this moving on, this full-on “now” presence in my own adult life.
In January I did a sweep of all my things and let go of a great deal. Yes, I applied as much of the Konmari technique as I could, and it was amazing, and freeing. I even finally went into stuff in storage and let it all go…stuff from my parents’ house I had not been able to deal with or use that had sat there since 2010.
I thought, great! I did it! My therapist and I applauded my actions.
And yet. I was still surrounded by furniture and other things that were my parents’, my mother’s, my grandmother’s. And I could feel the heaviness of it.
And so somehow, unconsciously, this drive to move took over. We daringly made an offer on the apartment with the view. It was accepted.
This was not a lateral move. It was a stretch up. Way up.
We hired an interior designer to help. What?! Who am I?
(I call him the wedding coordinator I did not let myself have. Brilliant call.)
And I made a Big Decision: We. Would. Get. All. New. Furniture.
All my parents’ stuff? Letting it go! But how?! Some stuff can go to the Salvation Army, but my parents’ stuff?? Most of our furniture I couldn’t bear to give to strangers.
In December, impulsively, my cousin, who loved my parents and has a wonderful wife and two little kids, happened to take a trip up here from Texas for a weekend. I asked if they’d mind looking at our stuff to see if they might want anything down the road.
Miraculously, they agreed to take most of it. They were thrilled! (I was elated!)
Other friends who just happened to be buying new, larger homes who were in need and interested are taking the rest.
It makes me so happy for it to go to people who will use and love it. To not have it sit in storage, unused.
I have kept just one item. An upholstered chair that had been my great grandmother’s, that I had climbed up into as a toddler in my grandma’s house. A chair that my mother had kept. A chair that I have always loved.
We have had it reupholstered and the wood frame repainted. It had to be basically remade. (My husband still thinks it a bit crazy of me.)
I cannot wait to see it with the beautiful new pieces that we chosen for our new home. It gives me a deep joy, and I feel love around it.
We are on the precipice of actually moving in now. We closed on the apartment one year ago. Began renovating it in January.
Most of the process has been relatively smooth: the getting financing, board approval in the new building. The renovation. The decisions. The shopping. The decorating.
Putting our current apartment on the market. Going into contract.
Our current apartment closes next week.
And so here I am, packing and sorting. The move is actualizing now. What has been theory up until now is happening.
I have let go of most things. The rugs/furniture are all spoken for. Most doodads have been given away.
But some I just could not part with yet. Things of my mothers that were in a china cabinet that will now go to my cousin’s.
I have these things in a few small boxes in storage. They won’t be in the new place. I really want to let them go. I just find it so hard to give them to a thrift store. But I am working towards it.
My mother’s china, my cousin wants. Yay! But these other things…
I now realize some part of me is afraid I will wish for them someday. When I am old and alone, won’t I want to be surrounded by proof I lived and was loved?
And deeper yet: if I let these things go, does it make me a bad daughter? Does it mean I loved my parents less?
Am I a bad person if I do not keep the little blue bird figurines my mother collected?
Will she feel forgotten or unappreciated if I just let them go?
Who am afraid it will hurt?
These are difficult questions. There is reconciling to do, which doesn’t happen overnight.
Maybe Konmari can do it swiftly, the way she does.
I am doing the Curry Technique for this final bit. I am in a life/shifting, deep dive excavation of my very soul. I have been living this process that has been 18 months in the making to get here now, on the verge of really letting go of all this physical evidence of my parents and brother, now dead some years.
Of really moving on from these years of grieving. These years of finding a new paradigm. Of finding a new footing in this world without three very key people in it.
It has gotten quite challenging here at the end. We’ve had some new apartment issues. The new wood floor has buckled in places. The central AC’s leaked.
What does it mean? What is it reflecting about our process? The floor is literally the very foundation of our home. The leak? Is it literal tears?
These issues at this point have felt overwhelming. Like the last 6 miles of a marathon.
(I have had fantasies of selling the apartment and all the new stuff in it as is and living out of one suitcase somewhere. Yesterday I had to force myself to drive home. Everything in me wanted to drive away and never return. Seriously.)
Yet here I am. Putting one foot in front of the other. Showing up. Letting go daily.
I am continuing to walk to the edge of this precipice.
Here I am. On the verge.
And soon, in just days, I will leap.