Stuff

I’m back! Woop. It’s been a while, I know.

In my defense I haven’t slept in a month and could barely formulate a coherent sentence; let alone a whole post. And it wasn’t just my sleep schedule that went haywire. Everything is different. In fact, I don’t even know who or where I am?? JK JK.. kinda.

I’m no longer a SaMo-er. I’ve moved up the coast 45 minutes (sans traffic obvs). I just keep heading north, ever since moving out of my parents house when I was 18 for college. It’s great. I wonder if I’ll make it all the way to Canada by the time I’m 93.

And moving changes EVERYTHING. Whenever my friends tell me they feel stuck, I always encourage them to relocate. It’s not that you’re running away from your problems, you’re just leaving the surroundings and people who insinuate who you are. It’s so hard to grow if there’s a set of expectations constantly surrounding you.

The one thing I realized during this tumultuous period of transitions, though, is that ‘simplicity’ really does facilitate ‘clarity.’

In January when things started to spin out of control, I looked around… and realized how many THINGS I have. How much stuff surrounds me and encroaches on my life. I’ve always been this way. I attach sentiment to objects. My love language is ‘gifts.’

So I started donating and chucking and parting with the things. I wasn’t certain of the ultimate outcome, but I knew getting rid of stuff was the answer to a question I couldn’t quite formulate.

Then, in February, I made the decision to move. Well kind of. More of less it was a God thing. So I chatted with Him, made a detailed list of of what I desired in a home, and then boldly asserted as I tend to: God if this is what you want for me, then I have full faith you’ll make it easy.

Three days later I stumbled upon a little treehouse that fit every bullet on my list. EVERY SINGLE BULLET. Bananas. Two weeks later and I now have 350 perfect square feet that are all mine. Nestled in the middle of the mountains. With actual animals and sounds and smells.

It’s SO RAD.

But so 350 square feet. Needless to say… I continued donating and chucking and parting. Even with the things that I once thought defined me.

Like that dress we had that grand adventure in. Those ripped tights I always get in trouble in. Those heels with the scuff and the rip on the toe that always feel right, but rarely look right. Those work pants that I swear will one day be perfect. Those work pants that used to be perfect. Those size 0 slave labor jeans from Forever21. A stack of bathing suits, bras, socks, and undies that just take up space.

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It’s amazing how much of my wardrobe is a mal-fitting safety net. Well soo…

  • I’ve cut my wardrobe down to a fourth of what it was.
  • My extensive shoe collection included.
  • I have 1/8th of the kitchen…things. All my bowls now double as ovenware/tupperware.
  • Chucked all those shower gels and shampoos and expired aspirins and bath bombs I’ll never use but have been holding onto for yeaaaars.
  • Donated decor that was just cluttering my zen.
  • Gave away the items I was holding onto out of guilt.

You know what I realized? Objects don’t hold any value. People do. And I don’t need that one thing Momma bought me to properly love her. In fact, stripping away the stuff makes more room for the people.

I also donated these hoakey little inspirational quotes I bought the first time my life did a 180 and went to shit. I no longer need a daily reminder of what FAITH is or who God is.

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Which helped stir about Epiphany Number 2: Life still gets hard and falls to shit. Even at 26. Even when you have a stable career and you pay your bills. Even when you go to church once a week. Even with all that, I somehow still manage to spin out of control until I’m perched on the edge of a meltdown for 30 straight days… but it’s not quite as it was. I just lean hard as heck on God, pray pray pray, and sleep soundly (when I have the time) knowing God’s got this. And yannoo.. He totes does.

Throughout this past month God has shown up, through little treehouse apartments, through people, through experiences, through random letters and sentiments from old friends, through little moments. All of these little ways in which God adores us, infiltrating the system.

I am beyond grateful.

 

How many guys does it take to put a box spring in a treehouse? 

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Ummm.. none because it didn’t fit, even after sawing it in half. Sooooo ‘box spring’ fell into the CHUCKED category. 

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Oh and HUGE shoutout to Momma for helping me rectify this disaster in my old room. 

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And for these adventures I managed in the midst of it all. 

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And to The Boys for letting me exchange snacks for their muscles..but also for letting me eat all the Abazabas. 

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And a huge shout out to El Step Dado for driving the Uhaul, for carrying boxes even with a tweaked back, for helping me figure out both my taxes as well as renter’s insurance, and for just being there as constant support. 

And to my sweet girls at work who not only  listen to my meltdowns without judgement, but consistently offer to help with anything and everything. 

And to Dezzy for making me go to church when I would rather stay home and drink wine. But also for skipping church with me on that Wednesday when I really needed to just have some girl time. 

And to Laura for lending, not only her husband, but her ear and her relentless friendship.

And to Momma. Obviously. Always and forever. xo 

 

Chaos. But working on it. 

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