In the Circle of Safety
“Yesterday was a very traumatic day for me because I had to part with something that was very near and dear to me on both a practical and emotional level with which, over the years, I have developed some would say an unhealthy connection. Its not like I did it against my will or that I dwelt or festered on it at length. I came to the decision on my own in well-spaced chronological and incremental stages over a period of about a year before spontaneously acting.
Its not like I’m a collector of things, either flotsam or jetsam, but I suppose, to be perfectly honest I do like to hang on to things that I have used over the years as if we have some level of symbiotic attachment in terms of loyalty and spiritual connection. Let me give you an example to clarify. I graduated from Laurier in 1975 and kept most of my text books until about 2001 long after they were functional or even remotely relevant to the topic. In fact, they were so out of date it was likely comical and by some measures sad and pathetic. However, in my defense, it was compelling and soothing at the same time to have these books even if I never, or say rarely, looked at them after graduation.
I find that when I go on a little trip like to the Middle East or China, I often find that in my absence Cheryl has done, in her infinite wisdom and in her prevue of organizational Zen master has given, destroyed or thrown away some of my cherished often unused collectables. She never says anything to reference her clandestine activities, but over the years I may say things like: Where are my cowboy boots from that trip to Tijuana? Where is my blue briefcase with supply teaching materials from when I substitute taught in Toronto in the 70’s? What happened to my complete set of Hardy Boy books from my childhood that I was saving to give my grandkids one day?” The list goes on.
I’m not a hoarder in the sense like one of my cousins is, or was,I think she is now a recovering hoarder. I guess it may be a genetic infliction, but she would have actual piles of magazines, egg cartons and such all over the house so that one had to walk in the aisles between the piles. I may be deflecting my transgression but I am not a pile guy that is more on the continuum of cat ladies. I am strictly a dog guy which is more mid-spectrum at worst, if I have to get technical and defensive.
I thing keeping stuff lends an element of security and safety. It brings contentment and is a registry of a life lived. It is a series of life related souvenirs testifying to places been, memories and experiences lived. It is a museum, oh bad choice or words I see that now. Let’s say an articulated collection of personalized artifacts that define time, place and personality in a decorative sense blending texture and colour. Stuff is nothing short of a testament to life.
People collect coins, stamps, baseballs, sports paraphernalia, travel pennants, postcards, ball caps, bottle caps, beer coasters and any number of items in eclectic fashion and all seems normal and socially acceptable. I mean the item I threw out yesterday served me well and I was sad to see it go, but go it must. We said our good-byes. I put it, them actually there were two in this case, in a bin beside the actual garbage can. It was a Home Depot orange pail we used for mixing cement. I had two off them just in case. Anyway, I put them in the orange pail as an intermediary step to going into the garbage pail so not to rush the process. What if I had second or third thoughts on the issue etc.
When it comes to larger items like a car and I am by no means a car person. I expect dependability, safety and getting from point A to B and points in between in relative comfort and economy. It should likely be a Subaru, preferably with heated seats, mirrors and steering wheel, but other than that I really have no preference. Leather seats would be good, memory seating options and if you can still get a CD player so much the better otherwise a car is a car. I tend to get attached to my vehicles and hate to see them go. Its like we bond even though I know they are simply mechanical inanimate assembly like objects possibly with feelings now that AI is programmed into them but I digress.
Anyway, I work in Toronto. I drive a Subaru there and either I have a mild dementia, or there are things missing when I get home. I know we are thinking of down-sizing and of coursethrough natural selection items will be sacrificed for the greater good. For example, where are my lucky socks? I thought I had four sets of pajamas? Is my tooth brush really the blue one? You see the problem is I’m getting a little paranoid.
But I know and I understand and have come to grips with the reality of my situation. I’m a man of a certain age. I run my life. Things are just things. I am fine and that’s why I threw out my seven-year-old Solomon running shoes with the multiple holes in the toes last Thursday and I’m okay with that and my wife is always right in these matters and all else.”
“Thank you for sharing, Marty. I know that was emotional for you and may have been difficult at times. Would you like a tissue?”
“This is a circle of safety who would like to speak next?”
In the Circle of Safety
“Yesterday was a very traumatic day for me because I had to part with something that was very near and dear to me on both a practical and emotional level with which, over the years, I have developed some would say an unhealthy connection. Its not like I did it against my will or that I dwelt or festered on it at length. I came to the decision on my own in well-spaced chronological and incremental stages over a period of about a year before spontaneously acting.
Its not like I’m a collector of things, either flotsam or jetsam, but I suppose, to be perfectly honest I do like to hang on to things that I have used over the years as if we have some level of symbiotic attachment in terms of loyalty and spiritual connection. Let me give you an example to clarify. I graduated from Laurier in 1975 and kept most of my text books until about 2001 long after they were functional or even remotely relevant to the topic. In fact, they were so out of date it was likely comical and by some measures sad and pathetic. However, in my defense, it was compelling and soothing at the same time to have these books even if I never, or say rarely, looked at them after graduation.
I find that when I go on a little trip like to the Middle East or China, I often find that in my absence Cheryl has done, in her infinite wisdom and in her prevue of organizational Zen master has given, destroyed or thrown away some of my cherished often unused collectables. She never says anything to reference her clandestine activities, but over the years I may say things like: Where are my cowboy boots from that trip to Tijuana? Where is my blue briefcase with supply teaching materials from when I substitute taught in Toronto in the 70’s? What happened to my complete set of Hardy Boy books from my childhood that I was saving to give my grandkids one day?” The list goes on.
I’m not a hoarder in the sense like one of my cousins is, or was,I think she is now a recovering hoarder. I guess it may be a genetic infliction, but she would have actual piles of magazines, egg cartons and such all over the house so that one had to walk in the aisles between the piles. I may be deflecting my transgression but I am not a pile guy that is more on the continuum of cat ladies. I am strictly a dog guy which is more mid-spectrum at worst, if I have to get technical and defensive.
I thing keeping stuff lends an element of security and safety. It brings contentment and is a registry of a life lived. It is a series of life related souvenirs testifying to places been, memories and experiences lived. It is a museum, oh bad choice or words I see that now. Let’s say an articulated collection of personalized artifacts that define time, place and personality in a decorative sense blending texture and colour. Stuff is nothing short of a testament to life.
People collect coins, stamps, baseballs, sports paraphernalia, travel pennants, postcards, ball caps, bottle caps, beer coasters and any number of items in eclectic fashion and all seems normal and socially acceptable. I mean the item I threw out yesterday served me well and I was sad to see it go, but go it must. We said our good-byes. I put it, them actually there were two in this case, in a bin beside the actual garbage can. It was a Home Depot orange pail we used for mixing cement. I had two off them just in case. Anyway, I put them in the orange pail as an intermediary step to going into the garbage pail so not to rush the process. What if I had second or third thoughts on the issue etc.
When it comes to larger items like a car and I am by no means a car person. I expect dependability, safety and getting from point A to B and points in between in relative comfort and economy. It should likely be a Subaru, preferably with heated seats, mirrors and steering wheel, but other than that I really have no preference. Leather seats would be good, memory seating options and if you can still get a CD player so much the better otherwise a car is a car. I tend to get attached to my vehicles and hate to see them go. Its like we bond even though I know they are simply mechanical inanimate assembly like objects possibly with feelings now that AI is programmed into them but I digress.
Anyway, I work in Toronto. I drive a Subaru there and either I have a mild dementia, or there are things missing when I get home. I know we are thinking of down-sizing and of coursethrough natural selection items will be sacrificed for the greater good. For example, where are my lucky socks? I thought I had four sets of pajamas? Is my tooth brush really the blue one? You see the problem is I’m getting a little paranoid.
But I know and I understand and have come to grips with the reality of my situation. I’m a man of a certain age. I run my life. Things are just things. I am fine and that’s why I threw out my seven-year-old Solomon running shoes with the multiple holes in the toes last Thursday and I’m okay with that and my wife is always right in these matters and all else.”
“Thank you for sharing, Marty. I know that was emotional for you and may have been difficult at times. Would you like a tissue?”
“This is a circle of safety who would like to speak next?”
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