Things That Bring Joy

I’m part of a team that helps families with elders lighten their loads, both in their homes and more importantly, in  their minds. We all need peace of mind. It helps us make good decisions, enjoy the company of others, and pursue whatever crazy purpose we were put here for.

The trouble is, we have hoarder instincts. From the moment we were born — naked and penniless — we start acquiring things. There are all kinds of things we desire. There are survival things, like food and clothes. There are tangible things like computers and home décor. Moreover, factual things like passwords and URLs help us get to other things, and procedures –- like driving laws and filing your taxes -– are things that keep you out of trouble.

How Things Work

I was a voracious baby. I abhorred a thing-vacuum and set out to fill it up. Baby toys which would barely hold my attention a few weeks later, fascinated me at first. The mother’s milk thing was the center of my existence. Then potty training thing came along. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it, but potty training has certainly served me well in the years since.

Next came school with a very demanding thing regimen. They seemed to have this elaborate multi-year plan to teach me everything important that has ever happened in human existence. Along the way, we also learned other things, like getting along with my psycho classmates and how to please my imperious teachers so I can get other things. I also started to express myself through things like writing, art projects, and sometimes with the clothes I wore. Somewhere around then, boys also became a thing, which gave me hours of excitement and frustration.

After graduation, things got even more interesting. I got my first ‘real job’ and  learned about things like 401k retirement plans and performance reviews. Unlike school, they gave me money for showing up every day, and so my friends and I could afford to buy our own choice of fun things, like mimosas and Lollapalooza tickets. We had great parties.

Somewhere in that phase, I was overtaken by this thing called love. I married a sensitive, kind boy, and we had a sweet dream of a better life together, a better world that we would help create. We put down money on a cozy house to safeguard our things. Then came the babies, and I learned a thing or two about childbirth, breast feeding, and sleep deprivation.

I kept working hard, and apparently my work ethic was rewarded a few years later — I was promoted. My husband was also nudged up his chosen career ladder, and before we knew it – poof! — we were a power couple. We had to have cool cars, and we traded up for our ‘forever house.’ It was a stupendous residence in an exclusive neighborhood with excellent schools, along with very high taxes.

I got used to this life and thought it would never end. But the kids graduated, and some took on their own powerful jobs, out of town. Meanwhile, some of those savage thrills I used to get at work began to lose their appeal, and I reduced my hours. My golden-boy husband was now a bit more salt-and-pepper. He didn’t seem to care about promotions anymore and spent more time at home or in the park walking. Our extra bedrooms were now make-shift storage, mostly for our kids’ old stuff and the increasingly ragged looking furniture that had accreted.

Tailspin or Ascension

In 50 short years, I had gone from a baby girl in a thing-vacuum to a hapless survivor of a thing avalanche. It was a crossroads. We could either cling to my old things plunging toward a geriatric stereotype or pursue the vague promise of a simpler happier life. We decided to try for happiness by relocating the unnecessary physical things that had built up.

First, we kept the things dearest to us, our precious keepsakes. The next wave of thing triage focused on friends and family. They harbored some nostalgia for our things, but much less so than we did. They also had their own things and didn’t take very much. We shipped some things to faraway friends. After that we had to rely on the market for our stuff, and the market had no sentimental appreciation for our things. We sold what we could and donated kitchen stuff to some young families starting out. The whole thing made me sad, although I still can’t quite say why, exactly.  

Then the thing-relocation was done.

About a week later the dust had settled, and I noticed a change. When I opened my eyes in the morning, everything I could see was something I treasured, not just a domestic anachronism or piece of furniture bought to fill a space. I felt lighter, happier. It was like starting out again, but this time, I had my really good things and knew how to use them.

In that moment, I could dance. I was limber again, especially in my mind.

I have the space now to regrow into a new life.  It’s similar to life in my 20s, except now I’m older, wiser and better organized.  

My next act is just getting started.

About Operation Relo
Operation Relo (Relo) provides a comprehensive downsizing services for families with elders. Relo gets willing families transitioned by conducting senior moves; preparing homes for sale; and relocating household possessions through cybermarkets, estate sales, donation, and disposal. Contact us at (877) 678 – 7356 (RELO), [email protected] and www.OperationRelo.com

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