Since college, I've moved 7 times. That's 7 moves in 12 years. My family and friends will no longer volunteer to help me move for one simple reason and it's not because they don't love me. It's because of my books. Books are heavy. The only way to make them not so heavy is to put fewer of them in each box, which means more boxes. And I have over 1000 books...that's too many boxes for even my parents to consider helping me move.
[Note: My parents are amazing; that being said, they helped me physically move out of my apartment in St. Louis when I was relocating to Chicago and have only volunteered to pack boxes ever since. They schlepped book boxes one time and that was enough for them!]
My hoarding tendencies start and stop with books (and some other reading-related media, including back issues of The New Yorker - more on that "love affair" later). Books are like air; I have virtually no self-control in bookstores. If I'm in one, you can be sure I'm coming out with something. Garage sales, estate sales, the semi-annual Friends of the Library sale...all consider me an excellent customer. I'm mortally afraid of being stuck somewhere waiting and not have reading material with me.
In elementary school I faked a stomachache to stay home and read some books my mom brought from my aunt's house. I have belonged to as many as 6 mail-order book clubs at the same time. I once rented an apartment solely because of it's entire wall of built-in bookshelves. Even with all the reading choices ensconced in my home, I still consider obtaining a library card among my top priorities when I move to a new city.
Refresh, Renew...
Recently, I've experienced a few life changes that have me re-evaluating my book-hoarding issues, including the necessity of sharing living space with the one I care about the most. Our shared goals include building a life that is way more mobile than a 1000+ book library would allow. So I find myself on the edge of letting go...and I couldn't feel more relieved.
The truly odd thing about the library I've built is that I haven't read most of the books that I own. I collect them, hold them, re-organize them, but I've only read a small fraction. Since books won't feed us or keep us safe in the event of nuclear war, zombie apocalypse, or pandemic, their continued usefulness is questionable. So I've started the process of divestment - I'll read and sell or donate all but a small, way-more-manageable fraction of that my very significant other and I have agreed on. There will likely be some book give-aways on this site in the future, so be on the lookout for those. And wish me some luck...this may be a bit of an emotional breakup.
moment-of-joy: realizing that life can be different than it currently is...and I will survive it.
What about you? Are you clinging to things that prevent you from imagining a different life?
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