Letting Go

It is a woman's nature to hold on as tightly as possible to the things that mean the most to her. Her "skinny" jeans. An old photograph. A card from her 16th birthday. A rose from her first boyfriend. The boyfriend himself. Some guys do this too, but I have found that the ones that do are few and far between. I am pretty certain it is a scientific fact that women invest more into events or relationships than men do, but that is an entirely separate post.


So the case in point is that we hold on to these objects because we can feel them, see them, taste them, and smell them. To us, they are physical representations of a past life-- perhaps one that was more vital and interesting than the one in which we currently exist. These objects provide comfort to us in times of sadness, and we seem to do anything we can to hold onto them as long as possible.


Well, forget that.


Here I am, 25 years old, and I'm up to my eyeballs in useless crap. Tell me what an old gymnastics ribbon is going to do for me now? Remind me that I can do a split? I do not need it, and the quicker you figure out that neither do you, the better.


Think about it. It technically isn't the objects that we are holding onto; they are just reminders of memories of which we can't let go. They are the memories that we need to keep. So now, I'm 25, and I'm unable to fully live my life and give myself chances to create new memories because I am so weighted down with old ones. Tell me: is this fair?


What was that terrible Eminem song? "Cleanin' Out My Closet?" Well, I think it would do all of us some good to clean out our closets... literally and figuratively. We can't continue to allow ourselves to swim in the oceans of memories of past lives. We will never be able to live in the present.


And if you can't live in the present, then life will pass us by without us even noticing. All the sudden, we are 50 years old, alone, and waiting for our chance at a new beginning.


You may be wondering what spurred this "divine revelation" I am having (or not, it's whatev), and it is okay to wonder. Honestly, it is a book. Well, WAS a book. For the past 3 months, I have had this book sitting on my nightstand waiting for me to read. It was given to me by a person that meant a lot to me, but things did not work out. However, because of the cowardice ways of the other party, I am left with this book, and it has been staring me in the face for too long. I will not read it, and it is obviously not going back to its previous owner. Therefore, I am donating it.


Books are meant to be read, and it is not fair for it to just sit on a desk, alone, and falling short of its potential. Someone else should have it and make their own memories with it. I am sure they will need it more than I ever will.


We too often associate our memories with tangible objects, and over time, our lives are filled with nothing but these constant reminders of things that did not work out, or times when we were skinner, or boys that turned into boyfriends that turned into distance memories. We do not need them. Every day, we should wake up with a fresh start and a clean slate, so today, I am cleaning out my closets. All the skeletons, the bad memories, the wilted flowers, the jeans that do not fit, and the wrinkled photographs because I know that only the good memories will remain in my heart.