This is my first writing workshop post so I'm not sure how it will turn out or if I'm doing it right but I'll give it my best shot...
A few weeks ago I truly understood the term life laundry for the first time, and in particular the emotional baggage that goes with it. This is quite a convoluted story so please hang in there while I start at the beginning...
When I met 'The Daddy' seven years ago I was very happily in a successful corporate career. I had achieved....the power suits, the perfectly manicured nails, the company car and all the benefits that go with it, the big office complete with fridge, the PA..and I was respected throughout the company as someone that would get the job done without upsetting people, something I was very proud of. I also had a house, full of 'my stuff'.
Over the next two years things started to change, and ultimately go very wrong. I took on a different role at work, I moved from Devon to Berkshire, I moved house, I gave up smoking...I was signed off with stress/depression for 9 months. At this point I moved in with 'The Daddy' and started to rebuild my life. Suddenly everything I had achieved seemed hollow and meaningless so I took voluntary redundancy, let out my house, put 'my stuff' in storage and retrained as a holistic therapist. Everything was good again and I felt that I had found the 'true me'.
About a year ago we decided that as the economy was looking dodgy we would sell my house, and the contents would remain in storage until we had more time to sort it out (Star's due date was rapidly approaching)
Fast forward to today and I am a SAHM and not feeling fulfilled, feeling that I have lost the 'true me'. So. when we had 'my stuff' delivered from storage we had to decide what to do with it. Now we have a house full of our things and no room or need for another two king size beds, a wardrobe, a dressing table... and five boxes of kitchen equipment, books and general rubbish. So, what should we do with it?
Unfortunately this was a rare occasion when 'The Daddy' and I had 'a heated exchange of views'. The Daddy being in 'fix it' mode decided that we should take most of it to the tip and the bigger pieces of furniture we could sell. Well. I flipped. I don't do it very often. At all. But I flipped. This was the last remains of a time in my life when I felt fulfilled, proud of my achievements, successful...none of which I feel now. The thought of taking it to the dump and/or selling it for next to nothing filled me with horror and left me feeling bereft. How could I get rid of all that it represented, even if I didn't actually want any of it ? Worst of all how could I sell it and get peanuts for things that are priceless in terms of what they represent for me? It would feel as though the buyers were telling me that the best that I had ever been was worth only pennies.
The outcome was difficult to get to but after a few weeks to calm myself I decided that I should give it away. If I gave it to a charity I felt that they would be grateful for it, and value it, and it would do some good...and my old life would move on in the world with it's head held high. So that is what we did. The Daddy sorted it all out ( as he always does) checking with me at every step to make sure I was happy and a very nice man from The British Heart Foundation came and took it away.
He was grateful, they did value it, and it will be doing good. And I am happy with that.
This post was written for Sleep is for the weak's Wednesday Writing Workshop, prompt number 4, 'Tell me about something precious you gave away'