Holding On...and Letting Go

I came home from vacation on Sunday to a house that looked as if someone had come in and taken half of everything residing in it. The scene was no surprise; this supposed pillaging of my worldly goods was actually part of an agreement attached to one of the situations that prompted The Reinvention Project. I have had weeks to prepare for this sight, and it was about as disconcerting as I expected it to be. As I wandered through rooms, feeling melancholy, taking stock of what was no longer there, I thought to myself, “I didn’t even say goodbye to this stuff. I didn’t take a moment, before I left, to look at everything one last time.”

And that was when I stopped and took stock of myself instead. Because I was right—I didn’t say goodbye to the stuff I knew wouldn’t be around when I got back. I didn’t give any of it a second glance. So why, when I already have so many other negative emotions floating around in my psyche, was I getting all glum over a missing coffee table? If my instinct as I passed these objects for the final time wasn’t to linger over them, why linger over their memories now?

A large part of creating my new life, I suspect, is going to involve learning what in my old life needs to be held on to, and what needs to be let go. And I learned my very first lesson Sunday night: coffee tables, artwork, and queen-sized mattresses are firmly in the “let go” category. Now, I have a feeling that, among all the things I will be faced with distinguishing, material objects will be among the most easily categorized. Still, I have to start somewhere, and why not with the Native American pottery bought in Sedona five years ago?

As I begin this long journey, I know just enough to know that the majority of my victories are going to be small steps toward my ultimate goal. And if not crying over the fact that my dining room table and chairs are gone is the highlight of my day, so be it. After all, it’s just furniture—besides, I bought something new to replace them. A handy metaphor dropped right into my lap, to be sure.

On the flip side, knowing what to hold on to can be just as important as knowing what to let go. Case in point, last night found me sitting in one of the common areas of the university where I am getting my master’s degree. My education has been the aspect of my life least affected by the chaos that surrounds me these days. I have, however, had to give much thought to whether I would complete my degree at my current school, attempt to transfer somewhere else, or give up on it entirely (to be picked up again at a later date—or not). It is difficult to convey the slew of emotions that came with such ponderings. Learning is something I adore, and something I am unabashedly good at. I waited years to go back to school, holding off until the time felt right. Furthermore, the degree I am working on will give me an advantage in future career prospecting. All in all, being in school can only lead to a happier, more well-rounded, more successful me.

So, when faced with the distinct possibility of having to give up what has, essentially, been a dream of mine for years, even temporarily, it took a surprisingly short amount of time to come up with my answer: hell no. Sometimes, when everything else in life seems to be going downhill (and taking you with it), it’s important to grab on to the sturdiest branch you can find and hold on tight. That, for me, is a piece of paper with “M.A.” on it. No, I will not transfer. No, I will not drop out. No, I will not postpone. My education is one thing from my old life that will not be going away, and will not be modified. It’s coming along for the ride, hence my position last night on a cheap wooden chair, sitting at a slightly wobbly table, waiting for the first class of the quarter to begin. Ah, higher education.

Lesson of the Day: Any port in a storm, but be prepared to let go of the boat!