Never Forever

It was Winston Churchill who famously said: “When you are going through hell, keep going.” Hell is not usually a nurturing environment so there is a human tendency – forgive my obviousity – to get the hell out of there.

But that’s not an obvious choice for everyone. If indeed we are in hell trying to realize a goal, going through the hell of reaching it is an accepted part of the game. Give up the game and you give up the goal.

Many accept a life of hell as “normal.” They don’t see a way out of their present circumstances or the way out is too hard. So they live in hell until they die. I often think of junkies and alcoholics who can’t or won’t get sober as living in that terrible place.

When I was drinking, I remember I couldn’t imagine socializing without a drink. Part of that belief was cultural. There were people who didn’t trust anyone who wouldn’t take a drink. I also imagine others’ sobriety made problem drinkers highly uncomfortable.

In that weird projection thing that people do, sober people – alcoholics or simply the unafflicted – were deemed suspicious. They were often treated as having or being the problem. The problem was not the thirteenth glass of beer you’d had since arriving at the pub a couple of hours ago. That was “normal.”

I am in the belly of the beast in the house sort, purge and trash exercise. I am beyond tempted to quit. I can’t, of course. Part of going through all this is because I need to meet obligations to others and to myself. But it is decidedly unfun.

Human beings acclimate quickly. Whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, we can adapt. It is part of our strength as a species.

Think of those “reality” TV shows about surviving in the wilderness alone. Participants are dropped in the middle of God knows where and their goal is to survive in order to make a lot of money. Their circumstances often overwhelm and defeat them.

But even in the face of medical advice and direction, many participants howl and protest about being taken out of that environment and losing the dream of “easy money.” Or can’t bear seeing themselves as failures or quitters.

So I am up and at ‘em again this morning. Bins to go through and contents to sort. Ancient bills and papers to let go of. Every day a little more is accomplished. Yesterday the full dumpster was taken away and replaced with an empty one. I hope to fill it before this is all over.

I’ve also learned that neither good times nor bad last forever. That is a simple truism that I’ve lived, so I’m electing to believe in that now.

This is hell for me. I will get through it. I don’t exactly know how yet but I realize the only choice is putting one foot in front of the other until I arrive at a better place. Hopefully much less cluttered and more organized.

Those may seem like simplistic goals. But offloading the accumulated detritus of a lifetime is as hard emotionally as it is physically. By organizing my insides, I am driven to get my outsides in order, too.

That reminds me of the insight and wisdom of a little boy trying to get his Dad’s attention.

On the coffee table, Dad saw a magazine with a picture of planet earth on the front cover. He said to his son, Do you see this picture of world, tearing the cover off the magazine? The little boy replied “yes”, thinking he finally had won, his Dad was going to now play with him!

Taking the little boy to the kitchen table and ripping the picture of the world into little pieces, mixing them up on the table and giving his son some “scotch tape” he said, “When you put the picture back together then we’ll play OK?”

The son said, “OK Daddy” and started to work on the puzzle. Dad went back to the living-room, sat on the couch getting comfortable and turning the “Big Game” back on, thinking to himself, it will take him all afternoon for him to figure that puzzle out.

Dad had no sooner started watching the game when his son came running into the living-room, shouting with glee, “I did it, I did it, look Daddy I did it, I taped the picture back together!” His Dad couldn’t believe his eyes saying, “How, how did you do it so fast?”

This little boy looked up at his daddy and said, “When you tore the cover off the magazine, I noticed a picture of a little boy on the back of it. I just knew if I pasted that little boy back together, the world would come together too.”

The full story is here.

Pressure Cooking

Officially day one of sorting and tossing and packing up the big hoard.

What miserable work! Not a blessed good thing to say about it except that pinhole of light I currently see at the end of the tunnel.

Or that may be a floater in my eye. I’m not sure. Google it.

It is astonishing to me how in one life you can be the very soul of dithering and indecisiveness at one time.

At another time, you’d swear I’d eaten a full bowl of Wheaties. Today I was an offloading and “get that sorry stuff out of here” machine.

I am already breathing deeper. How about that?

In another glaring confession, I currently own two shipping containers. You know the kind I mean. Long, big ugly boxy things that transport all of the cool merch from China to here in North America for all of us happy consumers to enjoy.

Ugly, yes but boy are they spacious. And dry. And weathertight.

So these two butt ugly shipping containers have served me lo, these past four or five years at a lonely storage spot in the wilds of rural Ontario.

Tomorrow they will be emptied. And moved. And hopefully, some – no make that lots – of the contents will be diverted to a charity or a landfill. That is where the contents of the dumpster will eventually end up.

This is a “check in, along the way” post. I am aiming for Saturday evening reflections when containers will have been offloaded, house scoured and downsized.

My remaining effects will have been tidily arranged and the new locker moved into. Contents of the current locker (did I mention that one?) will be transferred and all tucked away.

This business of your expectations diminishing as you get older is so true. Wheee. A single, tidy, well-organized storage locker.

This hasn’t precisely been Swedish death cleaning but it has come close. The concept of Swedish death cleaning became popular after a 2017 book was published by Margareta Magnussen. It is meant to take the burden of “going through stuff” off of your loved ones after you die.

In practical terms, this means organizing and decluttering your home to reduce the burden of sifting through dozens of objects and trying to decide what’s significant. With Swedish death cleaning, you’ll have already done that for them by only holding onto items you’ve determined to be essential. 

We’ll see if that’s how far I get this week.

Maybe. Maybe not. I’m working on it.