Purging on Memorial Day Weekend

 

This Memorial Day weekend has been tough when it comes to my mental health. It’s not the day itself, but the things that have happened around it. My husband designated this weekend as the one where we do spring cleaning, but it’s more like a deep purge. Now I will be the first to admit that I love to hang onto things that have sentimental value, and that includes things that belonged to Zane. And I’ll admit that it’s time to let some of them go. 

Some of them. 

Well, if you know my husband you know how obsessive he is about cleaning and minimizing stuff. So this weekend was horrible for me. I won’t get into the specifics right now, but I felt compelled to get rid many of Zane’s belongings that I wouldn’t otherwise part with. Having to sort through and compile his toys and personal items was emotional and taxing. Add to that a verbal “fight” my husband and I had that sent me bawling in Zane’s room for an hour and a pouting episode on my dad’s part that left me filled with anxiety and trauma responses. By the end of it all, I was completely depleted of energy. 

So now a whole lot of Zane’s stuff is gone. And he’s not here to accumulate more. It’s not like donating things your kiddo outgrows (which is also difficult at times). This is parting with and whittling down personal belongings that will never be replaced by something new. It’s hard. So, so hard. And I woke up in the middle of the night fretting about it, and I couldn’t sleep for over an hour—the second night in a row of waking up in a panic. 

There are so many other issues weighing so very heavily on my mind and heart, too. Life definitely is not going the way I want and need it to. From relationships to work to money to loss. It’s all a huge load to bear. And I’m so tired—so very tired of people expecting me to tend to their needs, which makes me wonder if there will ever be a time when I can put myself first. 

There’s a quote from Rick Warren that says, “If you’re still alive, you have a purpose.” I don’t think that’s necessarily true. I think that’s a sing-songy way of telling people to hang in there even when life sucks. It’s like a platitude, conjured to make feel people feel badly about not wanting to be here anymore. And there are times when I simply don’t want to be here, especially when nearly everything seems stacked against me. There are only a several things that keep me living (not just existing): my older son (the biggest reason), my dog (who was Zane's Make a Wish Dog and has proven to be a great comfort), my writing (which truly is a miraculous way to work through so many of my issues and, despite my lack of success with it, I am really f*cking good at it), and the gym (I’ve become both obsessive about and addicted to going. In fact, I go 6-7 times a week for at least an hour and half each time). But those things don’t pay the bills or allow people to see how harmful they’re being (and maybe always have been).

Maybe it is time to let go. Not of material thing or Zane’s belongings or even my life here on this earth, but of toxic relationships and societal expectations. I’ve spent years putting boundaries in place with certain people, primarily my parents. But when you give an inch, the toxic ones take miles upon miles, and it’s a never-ending cycle of abuse. So perhaps it’s time to let go of them. To move on to a different life while keeping the old life—the one that I miss with Zane—close to my heart.