Sometimes it is difficult to let go

My kids are coming to visit this week and they clearly disapprove of all the crap I have collected and strewn about the house and barn.  Sometimes I just think they are upset with me about it.  But they are such incredible, amazing people, that when I can think clearly, I know they are upset because they see how debilitating it is for me.  And while I don't seem able to deal with the stuff on a daily basis, when they are here or a visit is planned, I do make an effort to do something with it all.

Moving stuff from place to place might make it look like there is less.  But honestly if my kids just moved the peas around their plates, I would know they hadn't eaten them.  So who am I fooling by throwing it into boxes and putting it in unused spaces in the house.  Ultimately I need to get rid of the stuff. 

I have gotten sentimental about the things I have collected.  The piles and piles and piles of beautiful white linens.  The vintage clothing I used to wear in high school and college.  The books.  Oh, the books.  It's not that the items themselves are important to me.  It is the memories they represent.  The way some of these things defined me at one point in my life.  When I see them, specially unexpectedly, I get these great nostalgic rushes!

And sometimes things are a barrier to hold back sadness or tough times or anxiety.  Sometimes it is difficult to let go.