Boxed

It’s been over a year since I posted here – for a lot of reasons, but largely because blogging in this way seems to have become extinct. Blogs have become just another product to sell, and no one shares anything meaningful about themselves any more. I feel awkward sharing anything personal. 
Plus, this whole page is long overdue for an overhaul. The titular baby being brought up just turned 7, and the other one is almost 3.
But anyway, here’s this post (that’s been sitting in my notes for nearly 3 months).

I recently had to unpack several boxes from the ‘Issues’ corner of my brain. They’ve been there for a while, and I’ve looked at them every single day, wondering if I’d ever have the fortitude to pull them down and sift through the contents. Of course, much like literal unpacking, I tell myself, “I’ll get around to it”, and continue to step around them, so that eventually I get used to them being there. They might contain the clutter in a neat and neutral square, but there comes a point at which you have to ask, why – if you still haven’t touched them – are you keeping them?
And that point doesn’t typically arise from nothing. It comes when the boxes topple over, or you trip over them, or someone suddenly and gracelessly opens them (whether they realise it or not).
Ignoring is my usual way of coping. If I can’t immediately deal with something, then I pack it away and put it in storage, unlabelled, with pretty much no intention of returning to it. And I use this analogy because, it’s not the same as letting it go. I’m not ready to let it go.
It’s also not the same as compartmentalising, because the emotions linger.
Hey, I’m not saying it’s a good thing. It is what it is.

So, the boxes were tampered with and I had to open them. I had to vocalise what was in them, through ugly, angry, messy tears at first. And then, having unceremoniously dumped the contents, I could see it all more clearly. There was ‘don’t need it but can’t throw it out’ sentimental clutter.
‘I don’t know what this does but I might need it one day’.
‘I’d feel guilty if I got rid of this’, and, ‘not getting rid of this is making me feel guilty’.
‘This stuff matches with other stuff in other boxes’.
And so, so much stuff that doesn’t even belong to me. My god. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s appropriating problems; half of my anxiety is worrying on behalf of other people. I’m not even slightly exaggerating.

I can’t say I went full KonMari on it all. I thought I did. I thought after all that picking and sorting I was ready to throw most of it out. And I did throw it out. I even shredded some things, they were completely dealt with. But eventually I sneaked out to the bin and brought stuff back in, packed it in a slightly smaller box (maybe a little more neatly this time), and put it back in that corner of my brain.
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2 thoughts on “Boxed

  1. I think some blogs are another way of packing and unpacking. I too write posts that sit unpublished for months and months. The new type of ‘diary’ if you please 🙂 And a blog that’s not got a “sponsered by …” disclaimer at the top is very refreshing!
    I’m so glad you’re back at it! I love the way you write x

    1. 😀 Thanks Kate!
      Writing is definitely my way of unpacking… I do miss the ‘innocent’ days of blogging (still hate that word!) before everyone thought they could make a buck out of it.

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