Throw Away All The Things?

I’ve always been what my family would refer to as a “minimalist.”  I always considered it to mean that I don’t like collecting knickknacks or wanting to own every DVD for every movie I’ve ever enjoyed.  This is how my parents live, and when you live in a single wide trailer with four people, it gets a little ridiculous.  So I hate having things everywhere.  I may have one neat little knickknack here and there, but I try to make it something that can stay there all year.  My mother in law completely redecorates her front entrance for each month of the year.  Yes, 12 different boxes of decorations.  I mean, it just gives me a panic attack even thinking about that amount of clutter.

This is not really what a minimalist is though.  A minimalist is someone who has just what she needs.  She has one set of dishes, just the right amount of clothes to do the job, enough crafting supplies to make a craft or two.  I, on the other hand, have three sets of dishes, more clothes than I could wear in a month (or wear ever, as I hold on to clothes that do not fit even a little bit), and I currently own enough yarn to circle the earth about 12 times.  I am not a minimalist… but I want to be.

Today I cleaned out my dresser.  It is five drawers.  I got rid of a hamper full of clothing.  Not a small, carry on your hip type of hamper, but a big, standing hamper that comes up to my thigh when I stand beside it.  I was, to be honest, shocked and embarrassed about the amount of pajamas, old bras, and workout clothes I had in there that I either didn’t wear, or don’t fit into.  (Ratio is about 5% don’t wear to 95% don’t fit into, although I can’t wear what I don’t fit into, so… yea).

I desire to be a true minimalist, and I am so ready to start the process and really go all out.  I need to get my life together, make it easier, and relax a little.  I think about how happy I’ll be when I have less things to look at, organize, clean… oh, i’m so excited to begin.  Now, if I can only find the energy to tackle this project.

For now… i’m going to bed, that dresser wore me out!

Love,

Me – Minimalist In The Making

It Was The Bra…

My mom has a habit of blaming anything but the thing that needs to be blamed.  She used to blame my panic attacks on asthma.  She used to blame my pale skin on anemia.  She used to blame a hot day on my dads bad attitude.  She loves to blame the wrong thing to make herself feel better, when in reality, my panic attacks were from stress, my pale skin was from being sick, my dads bad attitude was because he is an alcoholic.

So, you see, she doesn’t make a whole lot of since.

Recently she had a scare.  She found a dimple on her breast and was terrified that it was cancer.  After a lot of searching, testing, and getting felt up, it was confirmed that she did not.  Yesterday she posted an article on Facebook about how bras do more harm than good, maybe even causing cancer.  Okay, maybe bras suck, but you’d think she would stop smoking cigarettes after a cancer scare, instead of burning all her bras.  But this is what she does.  She blames her mother quitting smoking for the reason her mother developed pancreatic cancer.  This is a direct quote “She quit smoking then, BAM!  Ten years later, pancreatic cancer.”

I wish that was a joke.  I think it would make for a very funny line in a movie where they are trying to prove that someones mother has lost their damn mind, but it’s not funny in reality, because she really, truly believes that… somehow.

I wish I could convince her to stop smoking.  I very much love my mom, but you know, if she stops smoking… bam…. ??

Why Do I Want To Quit?

I’ve been wrestling with the thought of quitting Facebook for quite sometime now.  I find myself on it during the day while I’m supposed to be playing with my daughter, and that bothers me.  It isn’t guilt that I’m being a bad mother, it’s that I do actually want to be spending that time with her, but I’m not.  I find myself on it when we are playing with Legos, or eating lunch, or playing princess.  Why?  Why am I on it?  I can’t even tell you.  Sometimes I’m not even sure how I got to my phone.  Didn’t I tell her I was going to get a drink of water?  Why is she finding me hunched over my phone, silently yelling at strangers under my breath for saying stupid things about stupid things?  How can I stop this behavior?

Well, it seems simple, right?  Quit Facebook!  It wouldn’t be hard.  I’d still have text for friends, or the actual phone.  I’d keep pinterest, because honestly I only play on that at night when I can really get in there and search for something to cook, or crochet, or paint.  Instagram is lovely, but takes little to no time to look through.  Facebook is the only thing that really has it’s claws in me, and I hate it for that, and I hate myself that I am somehow that interested in who is eating where, who is voting for who, and who hates x, y, and z.

So, what do I do?  I tell myself that I have Facebook to keep family up to date on our daughter.  I guess that’s true.  I do like sharing pictures and funny things she does on there, but then I wonder if that’s even fair to her?  Should I share these things?  Is this something she would ultimately want?  What will we learn about privacy and ownership of these pictures and videos we post in the next ten years?  Is it worth it to find out?

I’m struggling with thinking that I might be giving something up that keeps me going, that keeps me linked to the world while I’m inside my house with a two year old all day, but honestly, I find that I am happier and less anxious on days when I delete Facebook from my phone and pretend it doesn’t exist (I do this often, if that’s not a sign of my true desire, I don’t know what is).  Sometimes I sneak on through my phones web browser…. that’s when I really worry about myself.  I can’t wait just five hours to get on Facebook and find out who likes The Daily Shows latest clip?  Why?  I honestly can’t answer that.

So, here I am, wondering what to do.  I can deactivate for a week and see how it goes, apparently Facebook keeps everything right where it is, in case you decide to come back.  There is an option to delete, but I’m not there yet.  I’m not ready to give it up.  If I deactivate, I have to explain to family friends why I’m no longer available for tagging and messenger.  They’ll ask what’s wrong, and tell me I’m crazy.  “It’s good to have this outlet, this window into the world while you’re at home all day.  You’ll go crazy without it!  How will we get in touch with you?  How will we see little E?”  Well, they could call or visit, right?  Should I worry about what they think?  Should I worry I might be losing a connection, or should I rejoice in the deeper connection I will ultimately have with my daughter?  Can I become the person I truly want to be?  Can I be the mom who isn’t hunched over her phone all day?  I hate seeing my husband on his all day, I can only assume that’s how my daughter sees me.  That’s why she pulls on me, yells at me, whines for my attention while I’m reading a story about someone else’s child.  She needs me, and I need her.  This is for her.

I think I’ve made my decision.  I’ll let you know how it goes.