The feelings I Konmari-ed…then let go

With disdain, I threw the single worn gray sock with triangle shaped rubber slip-proof grooves into the black trash bag. It’s been my reaction to anything from that time.

There have been countless hilarious memes produced after Marie Kondo’s Netflix show Tidying Up hit the interweb. I have cracked up by myself in the dark before bed, making sure my giggles didn’t travel down the hall to the Lightning McQueen toddler bed, as laundry baskets of Konmari folded clothes pepper the bedroom floor.

There are some things from the get-go that I knew I wasn’t going to do. First, I’m not going to greet my house and thank it for providing shelter. I’m literally paying rent for our townhome sooooooo yeah, there’s that. Second, I already know I hoard books because as a military child we couldn’t keep them, so now I keep them all. I know that about myself.

However, even if I don’t do everything step-by-step by the Konmari method, there is something to be said about the emotional and spiritual item purging process. There were things I wanted to curl up with and things, like cluttered feelings I normally stash away for especially lonely nights when I need to cry, that needed to be let go. When I grabbed each item and put it in the bag for donation or trash, I put to rest some sadness – or at least the reminders.

As the only evidence in the world that they ever existed, here is the list:

  • soft pink pregnancy pillow – I will never be pregnant again.
  • several pairs of the gray hospital socks – I hope to never see another.
  • a size XL translucent white summer jacket – I wore it when pregnant on a trip to China before
  • charcoal sweatpants and a white fleece jacket – I wore too many times to chemo
  • a lace gray hat – I wore over a bald head
  • more maternity clothes 

I don’t want to look into the true feelings I had with each material – to look at them one by one and thank them and linger – for most of them, I snatched the material and shoved every strand into the darkness of the sack. As much as they served me as articles of clothing, I was happier to see them finally leave – all mourning and chemo tubes with them.

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