wordy diatribe on decluttering

[Em]

Don,

If you are bored and want something to read (small chance of that for
a person with a 48-hour day) here are my ravings on dejunking:

I first read one of your books (I think it was Clutter's Last Stand)
in Virginia Beach in 1998. You changed my life through that book, and
I have been dejunking ever since. Thank you.

My family members, co-workers and friends have all heard my sermons on
the gospel of dejunking since then. Your books have been purchased,
hoarded, dog-eared, requested, gifted, loaned, and stolen across the
land. People love them.

A friend of mine who has gone through a series of personal tragedies
that I can only compare to Job's has found inspiration in your books,
and has begun to reap the benefits of decluttering. And her mother
and uncle, who died recently, were also inspired by your books and had
begun the dejunking process before they left this earth, too.

In the last several years, as my husband and I have moved several
times, we have dejunked our many homes, leaving a swath of castoffs in
various thrift shops, homeless shelters, and friends' homes across the
U.S.

Your concepts have been the topics of many discussions and dejunking
marathons, and my mom has even developed the term "Asletizing" as a
synonym for dejunking. (or have you heard that before?)

Isn't it amazing what resistance and criticism one sometimes receives
regarding dejunking? "You're getting rid of too much. You might need
that. You dejunk too much. That's expensive."

Perhaps I have become a stronger person as a result, resisting my
critics, doing what I know is right for me, and coming to such as
epiphanes as the concept that I might actually think my parents are
mistaken in some areas (for example, not wanting me to get rid of an
item that I don't want "if it was made in Germany, because it might be
valuable.")

I was so excited when I first read your book, that I actually had
"permission" to get rid of things. Out went the high school
graduation dress (I was 28 and had not worn it for years. Mom had
sewn it, and this brought false guilt, but out it went), the empty
giant three-flavor popcorn tin, and childhood stuffed animals. The
thread collection was pared down to colors that I actually planned on
using in the future. What an exhiliarting feeling!

I like the concept of knowing that others are benefitting from my
castoffs. What is not being used by me, and what I therefore dejunk,
may be perfect for someone else! I consider the fact that I have been
blessed by people's castoffs (for example, I have my beautiful Irish
linen tablecloths, my Depression era armoire, my Uggs, and my glass
teapot because other people dejunked them!)

I am reminded of many of your thoughts as I read the Bible and hear
Jesus' statements about the important things being our relationship
with God and others as opposed to owning things.

Even so, I still struggle with guilt over getting rid of things. (A
pair of pink ceramic birds, given to me when I was a child by my
(now)deceased grandma, with human faces so freaky they look like they
could have starred in "The Outer Limits" look at me mournfully, as if
to say "how could you get rid of US?")

I try to tell myself "it's never wrong to err on the side of giving"
when I am evaluating whether or not to dejunk something, but I still
struggle. Recently I gave away two pair of winter boots to friends in
Maine, thinking we were moving to the southwest. We ended up in the
west, and there's snow on the ground. I had a twinge of regret, but I
pushed it away, picturing my friends wearing the boots. (Plus, I still
have a few pairs I did not get rid of!) Funny how we struggle with
negative feelings about getting rid of things "we might need
someday." Really, what's the great loss, what's the big deal, even if
we do need it someday, if someone else is benefitting? I guess it's a
real form of selfishness to try and hold onto everything for "me."
Kind of a grown-up extension of not wanting to share toys as a
child.

Now we are in the process of unloading a horrid 20 foot storage unit,
and I am discouraged by the amount of stuff in there, and am inspired
yet again to dejunk. In the past, pride reared its ugly head as I
thought to myself "I am more simplified than 'they' are" but as I look
at this storage unit, I can't say I'm better than 'they' are.

I have, through my shopping addiction (trolling Goodwill, TJ Maxx, and
the LLBean employee store) gotten re-junked! What a tragedy. And,
since getting married, I find it much harder sometimes because if
things are jointly owned, I want to get my husband's "okay" first.
Sometimes he doesn't want to get rid of things. (But overall, he's
great at dejunking).

The good news: I am in the sometimes painful, yet always liberating,
process of applying your dejunking principles to how I spend my time,
Don. Thank you so much for that. Through these principles I have
realized that just as I have chosen to dejunk things, I can actually
choose to dejunk hobbies and activities. (It seems like a basic
concept, but I didn't get it for a long time).

For most of my life I have not had much money. In childhood and
beyond, I was indoctrinated in the religion of frugality. This
sometimes led to an uber-do-it-yourself attitude. For example, I did
not buy the expensive dress. I could sew it! I even plotted a way
to make my own face powder out of mica (my husband stopped me from
doing this.) Same thing with the natural soap and body care products,
candles, Christmas fruitcake, and even the house, for crying out loud.
I could do it all! This would save money. In reality, I was
miserable. If I wanted to do these things, none of them are wrong in
and of themselves. But I did not enjoy it, and the piles of
unfinished projects surrounded me, and I felt I was just not working
hard enough, and that was why I wasn't getting everything done. (News
flash: even working at top speed, no human being can "do it all!" I
think there's only one person who can, and even He gave himself a day
of rest).

One night I was driving home (from shopping) with my husband and I
started lamenting about my armoire full of fabrics, sheets, and
Goodwill clothing items that were supposed to be sewn into various
pillowcases, pyramid cat beds, garments, duvets, napkins, sachets,
etc. "I hate them!" I screamed as we drove down the dark road. "Get
rid of them," my husband said calmly. "I can't!" I cried. "Yes, you
can. Throw them away. I'll help you."

Arriving at home, I dumped all the fabrics and notions onto the dining
room table. "Get rid of it all," he said. "I can't!" I said. I
proceeded to take an exorbitantly long time (I am obsessive-
compulsive) to get rid of half or so of the pile. Over the next
months I got rid of almost all of it, finally ending the project by
leaving a sack full of ripped sheets (no, I will not attempt to make a
pillow sham out of the ripped linen one) on the road with a sign:
"Free Rags." (Here's to the frugality of the citizens of Maine: the
bag was gone within the hour).

Since then, I have had an internal dialogue with myself, telling
myself "you hate sewing. What is the last thing you sewed that you
actually liked?" An unflattering photo of me in an empire-waist top
with the stiff calico fabric tenting out over my stomach comes to
mind. I have actually decided that "I do not like sewing, and that's
okay" is my creed.

I grew up with a mom who loved sewing and taught me how to sew at an
early age. She made many of my clothes (picture a pimply high
schooler in a dark green calico prairie skirt with orange flowers) and
I was sure I could, and should, continue to save money by continuing
her legacy. I would see my friends buying things and think smugly "I
could make that (for cheaper)." It was another area of pride for me,
and not the good kind.

Well, fast forward to today, where I feel quite free from the concept
that I "must" sew. I know God has created us all differently, and my
mind just didn't function optimally while trying to spatially organize
garment patterns. And that's okay. (Although I still get the feeling
that I am letting my mom down. I have told her about my decision not
to sew and I've sensed her disappointment).

Oh yes, fast forward to today. I am hard to fit in clothes, and so I
have commissioned a brilliant seamstress/clothing designer to make me
a coat, which she is in the process of doing. The coat will be about
$350, but I know it will be a better investment and value in the end
than something I tried to sew, or various ill-fitting clearance coats
purchased off the rack. It's going to be great to have a coat that
fits and that has arms that aren't 3/4 sleeve long. My decision to
meet with the seamstress was met with some disapproval by certain
individuals, who criticized it as "something rich people do." But one
friend said "Good for you!" I see it as a fitting ending to the era
of my bondage to sewing, and the beginning of a new one in which I
keep only activities, hobbies, things or thoughts that are of value to
me.

Besides, sewing almost killed my cats three times: first time: my boy
Phantom swalled a thread, which came out his other end; second time:
my girl Ehrin grabbed a pin from the layout table and ran with it, and
I had to grab her and extricate it from her mouth, third time: while I
was out of the house, Ehrin swalled several yards of elastic thread
and proceeded to run upstairs trailing the rest of the spool from her
mouth, and was rushed to the ER where she was sedated and it was
extracted.

Along with the sewing shackles, I cast away: soap making supplies
(keeping the memory of my faithful husband stirring several gloppy
bowls of handmade soap, each scented with a different blend of
essential oils), candle making supplies (trying not to remember the
sacks of blackened bits of candle wax I was saving to remelt and
recycle), my printmaking supplies, my homemade body care book (I'll
give my business to Burt's Bees instead), and the abominable scrapping
supplies (3-4 hours for a two page album spread? I think I'll stick
with the albums that have the little plastic pockets, instead). No
offense to anyone reading this, but I despise those sticker-encrusted
pages that are the rage these days and think they are the very
antithesis of simplicity!

Why did I get rid of all those hobbies? I hate them. I hate having
countless unfinished projects over my head. I love having a
simplified schedule.

My coin collection from childhood is almost all dejunked. $2 bills
that were not worth more than their face value were used to purchase
coffee to keep me awake/alive on our 8-day cross country voyage. And
my Iraqui coin was sold on eBay for $52! However, my Dad did not
approve of my letting go of the collection. The stamp collection is
on its way out, too (save for a few that bring back pleasant memories,
that I may display in frames).

The "scrapbook" files are in the queue to be dealt with. My husband
unloaded them, in their huge box labeled "E Scrapbook", from the
storage unit today, commenting on how heavy the box was. "The weight
of the years," I said. Complete calendars from childhood (do I need to
know when the church skating party was in 1979?) and college papers (I
hated writing them, why do I deceive myself that I or my posterity
will want to read them?) are among the collection to be radically
reduced.

Part of my problem is taking too much time to make decisions on
getting rid of stuff. What a tragedy, since life is more important
than poring over these decisions, and at 38 I realize it has been
passing me by. No more!

My husband and I are in the process of selling a house that epitomizes
cluttering up one's life: a 1913 Cape that needs everything done to
it. Our five years in it were fraught with stressful discord over
leaking roofs, painting, repairs, money, etc. We hope to find a house
that is more well-kept and less "cluttery" in terms of needing
repairs.

Why do I need a simplified schedule? To do what's important. And
what is that? Loving God and people. Doing what God has put me here
to do. It has taken me into my 30's to figure out that what I loved
doing as a child is what I must do now, and that is write childrens'
books. So that's what my schedule needs to be cleared for. I have
still not mastered the control of my personal discipline to get this
done, but I must. So I will continue to dejunk my life. I am trying
to apply the 80/20 rule, which I love.

Thank you Don, for all your books and for giving them to the world.
You have made a real difference in my life and the lives of many.

Now I'm going to go dejunk. Maybe we'll see you since we are in your
general "neck of the woods" now. If we do, I'll say hello. My
husband said "you're going to have to thank him."

E.M.

[lily]

Em, your so-called "diatribe" really struck a chord with me. I think I
must be at the same stage of de-junking as yourself. I reached that
wonderful "clutter free" state as far as "things" are concerned, a few
years ago. But it's only recently that I realised that all hobbies,
craft, leisure, sports, .... in fact anything we DO that is other than
basic survival and necessity, is just "filling in" time till we die.
So does it matter if I don't want to make a quilt? No, it doesn't, if
I don't need a quilt, or if I can buy one I love cheaper, or even if
it's more expensive but I can afford it. I can read a book instead,
and it's no more of a time "waster" than making a quilt, just for the
sake of it.
I think why I liked your post so much too, was that you are the only
other person I have ever "met" who agrees with me that scrapbooking is
not to everyone's taste. Please don't think for a moment that I'm
criticizing it or knocking anyone who loves to do it. But I have
hardly been game before this to ever dare suggest that I don't like
scrapbooking... not any part of it. I've never done it, because I
simply do not like the look of photos that are "fussed" up. But I've
allowed myself to feel guilty because of that. ok can I say it? for
the first time I can be honest. I actually find something tasteless in
all that buying and buying of pre-made manufactured paper, and it
distresses me how many people write on the internet about how burdened
they are by their scrapbooking stuff, by their scrapbooking mess, by
their scrapbooking time, etc etc etc. Also, I have friends who simply
cannot afford it but still feel they are being lazy if every single
photo isn't "scrapped"! But if I loved it, I would do it. It's just
that so many of my friends are shocked that I'm not "into
scrapbooking". And why is it that if I'm asked, "what project are you
working on at the moment", I cannot simply say, "Oh, I've just read my
4th book for the week, and can't wait to start the 5th"?
Once I realised this, I saw how many other hobbies are simply burdens
to people and that I could be free of that guilt and clutter. Sure,
occasionally I love to knit and cross stitch, when the mood takes me,
but I've come to see that it is no more important or necessary than a
good book, a nap, a walk. If I feel like staring at ants for an hour,
is that any more of a time "waster" than chopping up a piece of fabric
into little pieces, then sewing it all back together to make a smaller
piece of fabric ... for what? To keep warm? Nope, not if I'm honest.
Once again I'm NOT knocking quilting, and i'm the first to admire and
love a pretty home-made item... it's just that now I can see it for
what it really is.... a bit of fun to fill in the hours. And if I'm
not finding it fun I do not have to do it, just because it's what
women my age do and idle hands are the devil's workshop, or whatever I
was taught!
Now I'm ranting ,but it is so so freeing to realise this.
Yes, we need food, shelter, clothing, love and human interaction, and
mental and spiritual and emotional fulfillment, and whateve keeps us
healthy decent human beings. However else we choose to fill in our
time on this earth, it is just a time-filler, and so let's do what we
enjoy for no other reason but simply that.
I'm the same now about commercial holiday "stuff". I no longer buy or
send Xmas cards, my husband and I don't "do" Valentine's day, or
anniversaries in the commercial way.
Ok. I'll stop here, I could rave forever about this new way of looking
at things but I know you'll understand how I feel.
Regards Lily

[Em]

Hi Lily,

So nice to hear from you; thanks for responding! It's encouraging to
have someone validate my thoughts/opinions.

You made me laugh with the quilt thing. True; most of us don't truly
need to make a quilt to keep warm! Funny, my mom quilts and I don't
want to "knock" that hobby either, but I just can't comprehend why she
enjoys it. It looks excruciating to me. But I guess things I enjoy,
others might hate.

Funny, I was dejunking my memorabilia and came across a little
biographical thing my great grandpa wrote, in which he talked about
how he and two friends purchased a quilt in order to keep warm while
traveling west (in the US) and how hard it was to share with three
people. Maybe that's part of how all of this holding onto tradition/
hobbies/stuff started, was our ancestors' actual need to do so (ie:
holding onto scraps of fabric to make a quilt to literally keep warm)
and though we don't need to anymore, we kind of have that residual
habit.

Also regarding quilts, my mom made me a quilt years ago that I got rid
of (wasn't my style); then I promptly felt guilty about getting rid
of! Another quilt story: I was given (by mom) a quilt that this
Great Great Somebody had made. I gave it to my cat Phantom and he was
laying on it. My mom saw this and commented "Well, Kitty, that's a
pretty nice bed you have there." I sensed her thinly veiled
displeasure and the quilt was promptly given back (Phantom now rests
on a red wool fringed plaid blanket, more his style and mine). Funny
how when things are perceived as valuable they are not allowed to be
used for "simple" or "everyday" purposes......I personally like using
stuff for everyday, (like I use my grandma's silverware and throw it
in the dishwasher). I enjoy that old patina of used stuff, like old
battered furniture and old beat up jeans. And I enjoy letting cats
lay on quilts or cashmere or whatever. (The cats are more valuable to
me than the stuff!) I have found The Right Way to Live and everyone
must believe as I do (just kidding!) sometimes I fear I come across
that way, though.

Disclaimer: Mom and Dad are wonderful people and should they happen
upon this post, I hope they are not hurt....I am proud of them for
their many and continued dejunking efforts! Should Mom enjoy quilting
I am glad because it makes her happy, even though I don't share the
love of quilting!

Lily, I would be interested to hear any other of your dejunking
travels, as well as this specifically: how do you handle memorabilia
and photos, and are you happy about your system?

Last weekend I told myself that I had not done anything in a long time
simply because I wanted to, (touching on what you mentioned in your
post!) and thus I delved into my memorabilia (to dejunk, not to
arrange it on patterned paper with stickers, of course!) By the way,
we should start a militant anti-"scrapping" website, what do you say?
It could have photos of really cluttered, ugly pages as well as essays
on how scrapping ruins peoples' lives! (I'm sure your friends would
be pleased; as well as my friends who have little home business where
they sell the supplies for these atrocities!) I'm being mean, now.
Sorry, friends, should you also happen upon this post. Glad you enjoy
scrapping if it truly makes you happy.

Anyway, the memorabilia was attacked and pounds of paper and photos
were carried away from the home. My philosophy was: the best of the
best. For example, I had about 40 pictures of my time spent working a
summer job on the Oregon coast years ago. I saved the best 8 or so.
I had kept a few peoples' addresses from that time frame and we were
no longer in touch; those went out as well.

I also had a million pictures of my little brothers when they were
growing up so I decided to keep only the best of those (most
flattering, funniest, most quaint). I even dared to throw away the
giant sized school portraits.

I had a bunch of letters from my deceased cousin. I went through
those and kept the one that meant most to me. I had tons of little
doll birthday cards from my grandparents; I kept just a few of the
funniest ones. (I have always hated dolls, such a mean
child....although I did have a Galen doll from Planet of the Apes
which I loved, although I decided to remove his molded plastic head).
By the way, there is a gingham-clad doll in my parents' attic, Suzi,
who was given to me by my deceased grandma when I was 4 or so, whom I
have never loved. In fact, I cut off her eyelashes and colored her
face with a black marker, then proceeded to never play with her. Poor
Suzi. I think when I'm home I will give her to someone who can love
her despite her scars. If my mom lets me. She has tons of our toys
up in The Attic for "The Grandchildren" who are not yet in utero.

For someone who likes to dejunk, I can sure "talk" a lot and I guess
that's a form of clutter. It feels great though, so thank you in
advance, Lily, if you even read just a bit.

Back to the memorabilia project, the Best of the Best survived the
cut. (I love those "Best of the Best" movies with Eric Roberts). The
photos are simply going into plastic sleeve albums, and the
memorabilia stuff and letters are going into cigar boxes. I love the
albums; they are from TJ Maxx, made in Italy with leather covers and
very unique and fun to hold. I can actually envision the completed
albums sitting on a coffee table for perusal, rather than stowed away
at the top of some closet. My favorites of the albums are small and
chunky, with bright orange covers with little gold fleur de lis on
them. They were only $3 each. I love getting quality stuff at TJM
for the same price or less that one would pay for a mass produced
cheap product at.....say....Wal Mart...

I have not finished the project yet, and the living room is strewn
with photos. My Ehrin was laying on the photos and the old Campfire
Girls cookbook, as well. (I haven't used the cookbook,
ever.....perhaps that will go out as well....) And I think I am going
to get up the courage to throw out the high school annuals. (Do you
have yours?) High school had great times but an awful lot of painful
ones, and when I look at them I can feel the hurt again. There are a
lot of pictures of "the popular people" and "the beautiful people"
dancing, acting, doing football & volleyball, and a tiny little
picture of this girl with bad hair in the portrait section (me)!
Okay, I did have some fun, too, and some great pals, but in general
the albums bring back bad memories. Yes, I may actually throw them
out. Even though they are bound, printed matter (sacred,right?!)

My husband looked at my old college entrance scores and said I would
not need them in the future as I was a college graduate. I realized
he was speaking reason. Out those went. Also out went a multi-paged
career report stating what careers I should go for. I've already
decided I've just got to write a book (and in the meantime, waiting to
publish, just get any job to pay the bills) so why bother looking at
those ancient sheets? (they are the really old kind where the sides
of the paper had punched holes you had to tear off)

It's a bit embarassing to write all this in a public forum, like a
journal entry blabbing on and on, but I hope you can continue to
identify at least in part with some of this stuff.....

Also, my husband was inspired by my dejunking project and began to
dejunk his albums as well. (I told them that if he did I would grant
him one of the Italian albums for his very own).

Now: I have got to get writing on "The Story" and quit putting it
off......I guess that takes us back to dejunking my junky ways.....my
junky time management. (Do I ever love NetFlix, but I think I need to
go down to the three movies a month plan, watching a movie every other
night is taking away time from The Story.....)

What goals are you working on, and what books are you reading? I am
reading "The Day of the Djinn Warriors" by P.B. Kerr. Love those
childrens' books. Can't wait to see "The Half Blood Prince" this
year. Are you a HP fan? Where do you hail from? I hail from Utah,
but in general one could say I'm an American mutt, traveling around
and around the country in search of sanity...

Thanks for reading & happy dejunking, Lily....Great name, by the
way....

Erika
"End the Rule of Quilts over Womankind! Stop the Tyranny of
Scrapping!"

[Julia Diamond]

http://wikipedlla.com/wordy_diatribe_on_decluttering

> Don,
> If you are bored and want something to read (small chance of that for
> a person with a 48-hour day) here are my ravings on dejunking:
> I first read one of your books (I think it was Clutter's Last Stand)

> in Virginia Beach in 1998.  You changed my life through that book, and
> I have been dejunking ever since.  Thank you.

> My family members, co-workers and friends have all heard my sermons on

> the gospel of dejunking since then.  Your books have been purchased,

> hoarded, dog-eared, requested, gifted, loaned, and stolen across the

> land.  People love them.

> A friend of mine who has gone through a series of personal tragedies
> that I can only compare to Job's has found inspiration in your books,

> and has begun to reap the benefits of decluttering.  And her mother

> and uncle, who died recently, were also inspired by your books and had
> begun the dejunking process before they left this earth, too.
> In the last several years, as my husband and I have moved several
> times, we have dejunked our many homes, leaving a swath of castoffs in
> various thrift shops, homeless shelters, and friends' homes across the
> U.S.
> Your concepts have been the topics of many discussions and dejunking

> marathons, and my mom has even developed the term "Asletizing" as a
> synonym for dejunking.  (or have you heard that before?)

> Isn't it amazing what resistance and criticism one sometimes receives

> regarding dejunking?  "You're getting rid of too much.  You might need
> that.  You dejunk too much.  That's expensive."

> Perhaps I have become a stronger person as a result, resisting my
> critics, doing what I know is right for me, and coming to such as
> epiphanes as the concept that I might actually think my parents are
> mistaken in some areas (for example, not wanting me to get rid of an

> item that I don't want "if it was made in Germany, because it might be
> valuable.")

> I was so excited when I first read your book, that I actually had

> "permission" to get rid of things.  Out went the high school
> graduation dress (I was 28 and had not worn it for years.  Mom had

> sewn it, and this brought false guilt, but out it went), the empty

> giant three-flavor popcorn tin, and childhood stuffed animals.  The

> thread collection was pared down to colors that I actually planned on

> using in the future.  What an exhiliarting feeling!

> I like the concept of knowing that others are benefitting from my

> castoffs.  What is not being used by me, and what I therefore dejunk,
> may be perfect for someone else!  I consider the fact that I have been

> blessed by people's castoffs (for example, I have my beautiful Irish
> linen tablecloths, my Depression era armoire, my Uggs, and my glass
> teapot because other people dejunked them!)
> I am reminded of many of your thoughts as I read the Bible and hear
> Jesus' statements about the important things being our relationship
> with God and others as opposed to owning things.

> Even so, I still struggle with guilt over getting rid of things.  (A

> pair of pink ceramic birds, given to me when I was a child by my
> (now)deceased grandma, with human faces so freaky they look like they

> could have starred in "The Outer Limits" look at me mournfully, as if
> to say "how could you get rid of US?")
> I try to tell myself "it's never wrong to err on the side of giving"

> when I am evaluating whether or not to dejunk something, but I still

> struggle.  Recently I gave away two pair of winter boots to friends in
> Maine, thinking we were moving to the southwest.  We ended up in the
> west, and there's snow on the ground.  I had a twinge of regret, but I

> pushed it away, picturing my friends wearing the boots. (Plus, I still

> have a few pairs I did not get rid of!)  Funny how we struggle with
> negative feelings about getting rid of things "we might need
> someday."  Really, what's the great loss, what's the big deal, even if
> we do need it someday, if someone else is benefitting?  I guess it's a
> real form of selfishness to try and hold onto everything for "me."

> Kind of a grown-up extension of not wanting to share toys as a
> child.
> Now we are in the process of unloading a horrid 20 foot storage unit,
> and I am discouraged by the amount of stuff in there, and am inspired

> yet again to dejunk.  In the past, pride reared its ugly head as I
> thought to myself "I am more simplified than 'they' are" but as I look

> at this storage unit, I can't say I'm better than 'they' are.
> I have, through my shopping addiction (trolling Goodwill, TJ Maxx, and

> the LLBean employee store) gotten re-junked!  What a tragedy.  And,

> since getting married, I find it much harder sometimes because if

> things are jointly owned, I want to get my husband's "okay" first.
> Sometimes he doesn't want to get rid of things.  (But overall, he's
> great at dejunking).
> The good news:  I am in the sometimes painful, yet always liberating,

> process of applying your dejunking principles to how I spend my time,

> Don.  Thank you so much for that.  Through these principles I have

> realized that just as I have chosen to dejunk things, I can actually

> choose to dejunk hobbies and activities.  (It seems like a basic

> concept, but I didn't get it for a long time).

> For most of my life I have not had much money.  In childhood and
> beyond, I was indoctrinated in the religion of frugality.  This
> sometimes led to an uber-do-it-yourself attitude.  For example, I did
> not buy the expensive dress.  I could sew it!   I even plotted a way

> to make my own face powder out of mica (my husband stopped me from

> doing this.)  Same thing with the natural soap and body care products,

> candles, Christmas fruitcake, and even the house, for crying out loud.

> I could do it all!  This would save money.  In reality, I was
> miserable.  If I wanted to do these things, none of them are wrong in
> and of themselves.  But I did not enjoy it, and the piles of

> unfinished projects surrounded me, and I felt I was just not working

> hard enough, and that was why I wasn't getting everything done.  (News
> flash:  even working at top speed, no human being can "do it all!"  I

> think there's only one person who can, and even He gave himself a day
> of rest).
> One night I was driving home (from shopping) with my husband and I
> started lamenting about my armoire full of fabrics, sheets, and
> Goodwill clothing items that were supposed to be sewn into various
> pillowcases, pyramid cat beds, garments, duvets, napkins, sachets,

> etc.  "I hate them!" I screamed as we drove down the dark road.  "Get
> rid of them," my husband said calmly.  "I can't!"  I cried.  "Yes, you
> can.  Throw them away.  I'll help you."

> Arriving at home, I dumped all the fabrics and notions onto the dining

> room table.  "Get rid of it all," he said.  "I can't!"  I said.  I

> proceeded to take an exorbitantly long time (I am obsessive-

> compulsive) to get rid of half or so of the pile.  Over the next

> months I got rid of almost all of it, finally ending the project by
> leaving a sack full of ripped sheets (no, I will not attempt to make a
> pillow sham out of the ripped linen one) on the road with a sign:

> "Free Rags."  (Here's to the frugality of the citizens of Maine:  the

> bag was gone within the hour).
> Since then, I have had an internal dialogue with myself, telling

> myself "you hate sewing.  What is the last thing you sewed that you
> actually liked?" An unflattering photo of me in an empire-waist top

> with the stiff calico fabric tenting out over my stomach comes to

> mind.   I have actually decided that "I do not like sewing, and that's
> okay" is my creed.

> I grew up with a mom who loved sewing and taught me how to sew at an

> early age.  She made many of my clothes (picture a pimply high

> schooler in a dark green calico prairie skirt with orange flowers) and
> I was sure I could, and should, continue to save money by continuing

> her legacy.  I would see my friends buying things and think smugly "I
> could make that (for cheaper)."  It was another area of pride for me,

> and not the good kind.
> Well, fast forward to today, where I feel quite free from the concept

> that I "must" sew.  I know God has created us all differently, and my

> mind just didn't function optimally while trying to spatially organize

> garment patterns.  And that's okay.  (Although I still get the feeling
> that I am letting my mom down.  I have told her about my decision not

> to sew and I've sensed her disappointment).

> Oh yes, fast forward to today.  I am hard to fit in clothes, and so I

> have commissioned a brilliant seamstress/clothing designer to make me

> a coat, which she is in the process of doing.  The coat will be about

> $350, but I know it will be a better investment and value in the end
> than something I tried to sew, or various ill-fitting clearance coats

> purchased off the rack.  It's going to be great to have a coat that
> fits and that has arms that aren't 3/4 sleeve long.  My decision to

> meet with the seamstress was met with some disapproval by certain

> individuals, who criticized it as "something rich people do."  But one
> friend said "Good for you!"  I see it as a fitting ending to the era

> of my bondage to sewing, and the beginning of a new one in which I
> keep only activities, hobbies, things or thoughts that are of value to
> me.

> Besides, sewing almost killed my cats three times:  first time: my boy

> Phantom swalled a thread, which came out his other end; second time:
> my girl Ehrin grabbed a pin from the layout table and ran with it, and
> I had to grab her and extricate it from her mouth, third time: while I
> was out of the house, Ehrin swalled several yards of elastic thread
> and proceeded to run upstairs trailing the rest of the spool from her
> mouth, and was rushed to the ER where she was sedated and it was
> extracted.
> Along with the sewing shackles, I cast away: soap making supplies
> (keeping the memory of my faithful husband stirring several gloppy
> bowls of handmade soap, each scented with a different blend of

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