I’m not a hoarder (although we can talk about that in therapy), but I have a deep, physical reaction to throwing away anything that can still be used. By me or by anybody.
It’s the same with food. I was taught to clean my plate, even if I didn’t like what was on it. When I see someone not eating perfectly good food, it feels improper. I take it personally. Like they do when I ask if I can eat the food before they throw it away. It’s not that I’m hungry, I’m just trying to be responsible. One day the people who refuse to eat at restaurants with me will see that.
Moving to a new house really highlights how much stuff one has accumulated. Every little item has to be confronted and accounted for. Take it? Dump it? Why am I still hanging on to this? Is that black mold or a product design? Before we left Atlanta, we practically restocked our local Goodwill and added a few tons to the landfill. Yet I still have too much stuff.
After we moved in, we bought a couple of cheap-yet-functional IKEA-style cabinets and shelves to make up for the storage we lost in the move. Every box came with the necessary hardware, but each one also included a screwdriver, a hex wrench, and even a pair of gloves. I now have four brand-new screwdrivers and four new pairs of gloves sitting on my living room floor. I know I should throw them away immediately, but my brain tells me how irresponsible that would be. Why add more to a landfill when someone could use these things? Why am I buying storage containers just to store the crap they are including in their packaging? Why does buying a cabinet come with this extra package of existential anxiety?
Why can’t I throw away a nine-year-old bottle of ink? Why did I just eat that cottage cheese noodle stuff? Why do I have every email I’ve received since the year 1996?
What’s wrong with me? I’d call my therapist for answers right this minute if I could find which box her card is in.
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