Today, I realized something: I am an emotional hoarder.
I’m in the process of boxing up my room in preparation for moving out. One of the areas I tackled was the storage under my bed, or what I would call where things go to slowly fade into dust. I came across shoes, office supplies, old college papers, really old stories I started and never finished, and the birthday reminders. Homemade birthday signs and birthday cards from previous years I collected because the sentiment behind them was too overwhelming to prevent me from throwing them away.
Yet, here I was, faced with a trash bag and the knowledge that I need to empty my bedroom. I needed to let go.
I guess my holding onto the birthday mementos was my way of holding onto people. I was afraid that if I threw the birthday articles away, then I would be throwing away the sentiments and gestures behind them. I was afraid of symbolically throwing away my relationships with loved ones, of not having anything to remind me of them.
Fear is a heavy burden to carry and an even heavier burden to put down. But it’s only when fear is released, when one lets go of the thing they fear, that fear is no longer fear; rather, it becomes a blip in the past, a point the story the individual moved past.