This past Sunday, I did something I have been avoiding for 18 months......I went through my junk in my parents' basement.
It sounds minor, but it wasn't.
On October 31, 2011, when I moved out of Awful's, I could barely function. I knew moving out would save my life and give me a second chance at my best self, but I didn't know how to get here, to where I am right now (minus the weight, which needs to come off)......because I had no plan other than to survive.
Bless my parents, both of them. They saved me. They helped me move, they brought me my favorite foods right to my bed (aka my habitat for 4 weeks), and they supported me. When I needed them. When I couldn't burden my friends who were dealing with major life changes themselves: being a newlywed, becoming mommies, moving, etc....
It was perfect timing for such a life catastrophe for me....because my parents were there to catch me. How lucky I am.
When I moved home, ALL of my stuff went right into the basement. Out of sight, out of mind. Work stuff from my former job that I quit after 7 years to pursue my own business, photos of Awful, dating self help books.....relics from my past. Things.....many things....possessions that I couldn't face until now.
I went down to the basement with a single objective in mind, to go through 1 box. I went through all of them. I threw out 3 GIANT garbage bags and 2 HUGE boxes of junk. I sorted through what I wanted to keep at the P's house and what I wanted to bring with me down South. I won't be bringing a ton, but I need to being some things to make it feel like home, my photos and books, specifically. I do plan to move into a furnished apartment this fall as I gave away or sold all of my furniture already and Crush and I will be moving after next year to his home town.....no point buying all new furniture to throw it out again...we plan to buy our real life stuff together as a married couple when we move to our permanent home.
After my stuff purge, I felt a wave of relief. I was letting go of the past with each item I tossed in the trash.
It is funny that Sunday was the day that I could face it. Everyday since I have been home, I have thought about the dreaded PILE of stuff and deemed tomorrow would be the day to tackle it. Day after day after day. Sunday, for whatever reason, I was ready. I could handle it and I did. Without a tear, or a panic attack, or even a Xanax come to think of it. It was Me versus Stuff and I won. WHOOT!
I feel like this is symbolic of many things. Da da dah......yes, my stalled weight loss. You see, I have also been avoiding the basement because I didn't want to see my skinny photos and then the photos of me getting progressively fatter while I dated Awful. You can see it in my eyes, how disconnected I am in the photos I share with him. Instead of feeling upset when I viewed the photos (I literally gagged that I ever shared a bed with him as mean as that sounds), I felt relieved. I escaped by the skin of my teeth. Suddenly, I felt guilty that I was with him at all. Looking at those photos...oy, I don't think we ever really loved each other at all. Seriously. I look the worst I ever looked with him. Strained. Uncomfortable. A mile away from my body and soul.
Love makes you beautiful and hate makes you look sad, terrible, and in my case.....very very very bloated.
I feel so much lighter now even if the scale disagrees at this moment.
September here I come!