For your consideration today, a couple of doodled Little Peeps cards… I’m trying to pack everything up in my house and, unfortunately, that includes all my craft stuff. So, doodling is about the best I can do right now. Otherwise, I will do like I’ve done in the past and have stuff EVERYWHERE and try to create things in the midst of boxes, packing tape and general chaos. Like the year I made a whole bunch of Christmas cards, despite the fact we were moving in a few days time and I was supposed to be tidying up, not making more mess.
As I pack up my stuff and decide on which pieces I should cull before I move (SO hard – you know I can’t get rid of stuff, right?), it occurs to me perhaps now is the time to develop some sort of decorating identity based on what I actually like, and what speaks to my nesting soul. I am going to try and keep only what really resonates with me and not what I think I SHOULD keep, for whatever bizarre reason. But this new plan has some fatal flaws.
For instance. I have an ugly, stained-glass rooster lamp. My cousin gave it to me when I moved in to this place, my first rental by myself. It’s ugly, the lamp. And slightly demonic-looking when lit up. But I keep it because I love my cousin and she bought it for me because she thought it was quirky and different. Like me, she said. How can I get rid of it, knowing she bought it because she was supporting me in my individuality and going completely against her own decorating taste which would, in all honesty, have burnt the rooster lamp as some sort of effigy to the design-deprived?
I have ornaments that sit in boxes because they don’t really appeal to me, but the person who gave them to me does. Getting rid of them would be like telling the person I no longer have a need for them.
I have teddy bears given to me when I was ill in hospital. I’m 42 years old and I don’t need teddy bears, don’t particularly even want them, but there they sit, in my lounge room, on their own chair. Because someone gave them to me. Out of love and a desire to bring me some comfort when I was at my lowest. I feel like I should keep them just because of what they represent. Even if I really don’t have room for them, and the people who gave them to me in the first place would probably tell me get rid of them anyway.
So, this packing up process is going to be a tough one. But probably an important one. I need to stop hanging on to things that really don’t matter, and focus on what does. I should surround myself with things that say “This is Me”. As opposed to things that say “Someone really nice gave this to me and I like them a lot so I can’t get rid of it, even though it clashes with everything else I own and doesn’t actually fit anywhere and kinda makes me a bit miserable because I could actually put something nicer there that speaks to my soul and makes me feel good”.
I should probably have a chaperone. Someone who will shake their head and say “No, you do not need that broken teapot/frayed cushion cover/doll-with-no-legs and [insert friend or family member’s name here] will not mind if you remove it from your home. In fact, they will probably wonder why in the heck you have kept it for seventeen years…”
I WILL do it. I will. Maybe. Bit by bit. With a few relapses every now and then.
Although, my new place will most likely have an extra bedroom so, y’know,
that means extra storage space.