Moving

Did you ever notice how stressful moving is? Even when you're NOT the one moving?

Why should I be having what can only be called an "Anger-Anxiety Series of Moments?" After all, I'm not the one moving. Oh, yes, I'm moving things around. Did that last week. Sort of did a house cleaning thing, getting rid of stuff thing. Luckily for me, the Humane Society of Greater Akron (HSGA) is having their bi-annual Rummage Sale so all that stuff is going to a super cause! And there is a certain lifting of the spirit to get rid of stuff you really don't need. Or to be able to say, "You need to go on to a new home." What's interesting is feeling very weird throwing away anything. Nowadays throwing away stuff is considered to be ecologically BAD!! And I truly do get that. There is way too much crap out there. I do kind of feel that the Eco-Nazis are watching me and I'll be put in a concentration camp for throwing away stuff.

The hardest thing to throw away for me is a book. Must be all that book stuff that is in our very fiber of being, part of our genetic makeup. Josh used to say you could tell a member of our family because they had a phone in one hand and a book in the other. Quite true, actually. And I married a reader as well. (Both times!) We all have a love and respect for the printed word. I can see the appeal of Talking Books and Kindles and what-not but there is nothing, nothing I tell you, like the smell of a new book! Ambrosia! Throw away a book? Sacrilege! It has to be so far from gone for me to do it and even then, I apologize profusely to it. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" as I toss it in the trash bag, turning my head away.

So Megan is moving out finally. It's time (long past) but she really does need to be on her own and facing whatever demons or boundaries she needs to face. It's not that bad, kid, honestly. It takes a little discipline and denial of instant gratification but that's not always bad stuff. She's moving into a house with some friends, one of whom works a 12 Step Program and THAT could be very beneficial for her in many ways.

What has been driving me absolutely bugger-bat-sh*t crazy is the WAY she's been moving.

First of all, Marty told her in December she had to move by April. It's now May 9th (Mother's Day, to be exact). Until we said we'd rent her a U-Haul, she had barely packed anything. She'd moved 5 carloads of stuff but her car wasn't empty at the time. So it's been this eeking, piecemeal, bitty-bit-here-and-there taking-forever turtles-move-faster moving. Reminds me of when my mother moved. That drove me absolutely wild! I like to get stuff over with, especially something like moving. I've moved well (all packed) and I've moved badly ("What? We're moving? Today?") Luckily for that move, I had "Attila the Hun Movers" in the guide of Alana Daveduk and I got to tell you, that girl can PACK ya and MOVE ya!

Megan and her friends did get a truckload of stuff out yesterday and I did help her boyfriend a bit. I think when you are looking at that much disorganized crap everywhere, furniture being blocked, etc. it can be overwhelming. But I got Daron (what kind of spelling is that? Never mind....) started and he's physically pretty strong and he can be pretty focused.

Then I did something that, for me, was really hard.

I did not help.

Marty and I occasionally would check out how the truck-loading part was doing but for the most part, we did nothing. In its most violent form.

Now there are several reason why I didn't help. The biggest reason was I would have been tired, pissy, frustrated and would have felt unappreciated and angry. Plus it would be a form of enabling because she is perfectly capable of doing the work and getting the pals to help. Oh, it would have gotten done, all right. But we both (Marty and I) would have been sore and miserable afterwards. Seeing someone that you know and care about living like a bag lady in filth and squalor in your house is really quite depressing, irritating and frustrating. There is no other way to put it. Cigarette butts do not belong in your bedclothes. Period.

Quite honestly, a third to half of her stuff should be thrown away. Another third should be donated. I get that people are weird about stuff. Marty and his boat, for instance. That's OK, it's out of the way. It's a dream, a thing for the water, He likes water, it's OK. I get it. We all have our little things. But she holds on to stuff that really needs to go. Or if she's going to hang on to it, it needs to be honored. There is a show on TV called "Hoarding: Buried Alive" and I sure as hell hope I don't see Megan on that show. Ever.

I don't want to live in a minimalistic style home. I think they are cold and unfriendly. Details make places interesting and homey to me. There is nothing inviting about any place that has nothing on the walls, no books, or pillows on the furniture and one-color-everything or stark colors. Like those stainless steel kitchens. Ugh! There is no texture, nothing visually interesting. It's one thing if you have huge windows with a view but even then, you want something to look at inside the house.

But there is too much with Megan. It's like she can't give anything up. I have news; your stuff won't protect you from hurt or the world at large. I get having stuff, it's having filthy stuff that is so frustrating to see. I've cared for her cats and let me tell you, THEY like it when things are clean and tidy.

I am sure, however, that which ever way this goes for her, it'll be a blessing and an education. I hope she can create a life of peace, learning to get go and with way less drama! That girl just has too much darn drama.

And we'll get our attic back!