Sifting

Lately, I've been doing a bit of what I call sifting. I take a bookshelf, a box, or a drawer of my things and sift through it. And I ask myself: Will I use this again before I die? Or, will I read this again before I die? And, will my family want this when I am gone?

There are some items I wonder... maybe. Then I ask myself: If I did have some time left to use, to read, to study, to do, would I do THAT? Most things, I think probably not. And then I think up about one hundred other things I'd rather do with my precious time.

Some are things with little connection to my emotions. I can easily let them go. I ask friends if they want this or that, or pop the items in the goodwill box. After all, if I really wanted to, these are things that can be replaced. But then there are the items that hold more meaning and are harder to let go. It's not so much that particular item, but the memories that belong with it. Or, that I had acquired them with the intent on using them more or doing something with them some day. There are items I spent a lot of time, energy, and money on. And, there are items that somewhat defined me. They are my past, my former self, the old me. The new me has limitations and needs to clear out things and streamline her life in order to function more efficiently and focus.

I have collected some pretty interesting things in the past thirty-something years. And, as we all have different tastes, talents, hobbies, and interests, I can see why some items can only be appreciated by certain people. By sifting through and passing along many of my favorites, I have been able to share these things and make people smile. Many of my friends are happily adopting part of my past. They are pleased I have recognized their interests and the items I've passed on will be used, displayed, and treasured now and long after I'm gone.

A friend expressed her concern. She feared that what I am doing is a sign of giving up. But I assured her, I am not giving up. Believe me. I cannot give up. This sifting is part of accepting what I cannot change and preparing myself for battle. One must see these things as they are... just things. Because of my illness, I cannot be burdened by too many extra things. I admit, I need things. I like things. And, there are items that make me smile. Things are great when you are well. Things are a great distraction when you have time. Things are fun when you have the energy. But, I no longer need distractions. I no longer have the time or energy. So now, most things seem like a burden. Things need to be organized, stored, and cleaned. Unfinished projects lurk in corners and mock me. Wonderfully useful items sit unused. These things become constant reminders of a life I was forced to give up. By releasing these things, I not only give them a chance to bring happiness to someone else, I gain energy to focus on my family and health. I am preparing myself--physically and mentally--to fight the battle before me.