I have a room where I have put my deceased mother’s things along with my grown daughters’ artworks, grades, photos, and clothes. It contains my dad’s bowling scores carefully recorded in a notebook from 1953 until 2015 and a book of his poetry. Photos in frames, some broken, some not. I go in there sometimes and find a memory to enjoy. Along the way, I get distracted and overwhelmed. There is too much here in a cluttered mess. When I try to pick out the good, it gets tangled with something I don’t need. I am afraid to throw out something I might want or need later. Is it disrespectful to throw away the book containing the signatures of those who attended my grandfather’s funeral? No, it does not give me joy. I have heard that I should pick up each object and ask whether it brings me joy. If not, dispose of it.
My sister has moved to Mexico and has given me two boxes of my grandfather’s photos along with a box of silver plates, a silver teapot, and other silver objects. I urgently set a goal to clear out this room in my house where all the memories are stored. I get a large, black plastic bag and begin to dispose of those things that don’t give me joy. I have now entered the closet with a tiny door with crawl space. My husband had lovingly stored at least twenty boxes from our move sixteen years ago.
I am overwhelmed. This is too messy. It disrupts my harmony. In the same way, my mind is sometimes cluttered. It contains hurts and resentments that replay on an endless loop: old messages about what is possible or not possible or how I need to be nice all the time, fears that hold me back, worries that keep me up at night about things that will never happen. These thoughts do not bring me joy. I wish I could remove these thoughts and put them in a big, black plastic bag. I don’t want anyone to know I have these thoughts. My mind is sometimes too messy and without peace. I am willing to clean this out too. I tell myself stories about how I am not enough, I don’t do enough, I don’t have enough. I tell myself. I am not loveable. I would like to transform my hurts, petty jealousies, and poor self-image into love and strength.
I uncover my master’s thesis from the 1980’s with all the research on goal setting and strategic planning, binders of training programs I had developed, research studies conducted with my mentor on Teacher Centers in New York State, and marketing studies for community colleges. I find a binder on my goals accomplished with letters and awards I had forgotten ever receiving.
I have been trying to uncover my unconscious beliefs by identifying my childhood perceptions of my parents. My dad had a sensitive side; he would choke up while reading a human-interest story in the paper, but he was critical, did not otherwise express his feelings, and was often unavailable. I wanted acknowledgement of my deepest self and, after not finding it, addressed it with anger, rebellion, drinking, and, finally, just shutting down and disappearing. In this crawl space, I now realize that I had prevented myself from getting this acknowledgement by being invisible. If I am not taking up any space, I can’t be hurt.
“Coincidentally,” as I am working through the origin of my beliefs from my father, I find that, in the binder of goals accomplished, there are two poems written by my dad. He does get me. He does acknowledge me. On my 18th birthday, I found one such poem on my desk.
Dear Linda
The years slip by, too fast it seems,
The past replaces future’s dreams.
If we could each go back in time,
We’d falter less, we’d speed the climb.
Today you’ve reached a magic place,
A step in life, —time won’t erase.
The magic of youth’s milestone day.
Eighteen years—what more to say!!
You’ve demonstrated special gifts;
God must have worked 12-hour shifts.
He’s given you a bright warm smile;
A temper too, but lots of style;
Self-discipline and dedication
Moving you towards education.
But most of all a loving heart
That’s made you do more than your part.
Keep reaching out and helping others,
Even irritants—like brothers!
Just rush ahead and do your best;
Your faith and God will do the rest.
Enjoy the good, endure the bad,
For all your talents please be glad.
I’ve watched you grow;
I know you well
You’re more to me than words can tell!!
So, when your problems get you down,
And life’s bright green, seems more like brown.
Remember though the world seems shrill
I love you now and always will.
Happy Birthday!! Dad I
I can let go of the belief that I was not acknowledged for being who I am. I do not need to be invisible. I move from self-talk that finds the holes in me to self-talk that sees my wholeness. I have cleared out some space in my head and can better enjoy the moment. Peace fills my mind. I feel joy!
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