Are You Waiting for Your Stuff to Make You Happy?

This weekend was like 5 weekends wrapped up into one.  I love when we can get many things accomplished, on the flip side you feel like you need another weekend to rest.  But we can't so we drag ourselves to bed late Sunday night only to find the Monday morning sun creep through the blinds way too early.  But, then again the Lord just Blessed us with another glorious day to be together as a Family so why complain!?!  

We have lived in this house almost 18 months and we are still settling in.  After moving 4 times in 5 years we have individual boxes filled with things that belong in several different rooms, not just the room that's written on the outside of the box.  Sorting and purging has been the new norm around here for a few months now.  When we moved in we were off to a great start, but given our Family's situation over the past year we honestly stopped doing anything 14 months ago.  Now, we are on the road to recovery and taking the time to not just stuff and shove things away.  But, to really look at something and think if it's something that has purpose or is it something I think will make me feel better.  Over the past 10 years as our Family slowly shifted away from each-other I noticed we all became dependent on things to change our moods.  We needed to feel loved and needed so in a way having a room full of crap that we could arrange, dust, use, see, arrange again, step on accidentally, forget about and then find again made us feel a fake sense of connection to the item.  And when we went to a store we would find shinier things that promised to make us even more happy and fulfilled then the stuff we had at home.  And the sickness goes on and on and on.

Now, I'm not saying to throw away a special something that your Grandma left you or that you have to stack your books on the floor because that shelf needs to go.  But, do you really need 5 spatulas or a half dozen different lotions?  What about all the knick knacks and storage containers?  The shoes, clothes, decorations, kids stuff, basically everything you have stuffed in a closet, under the bed or in the garage.  Is it really serving it's intended purpose for you?  You know that project on Pinterest that you know you will get around to doing?  That has been my excuse for almost anything I have brought into this house.  I can use it for something else that I saw that I just know would look good or benefit the Family in some way.   But, I realized even though I was not the one with the addiction problem we were all numbing out.  Stuff was our drug of choice to deal with the big elephant in the living room.

Saturday I was going through a box and I found 20 tiny Tupperware containers for spices that I had bought probably 6 years ago at a yard sale.  My intention was to fill them with beads and sequence.  I knew it was going to be perfect for the classroom.  From the looks of it I had started filling a few of them, but that was about it.  I never finished my project and where are my little crafty things right now?  They are in a plastic carousal that I love and it's one functional piece.  So, those 20 little containers are now in the back of my van to be donated.  
If it's a true need and it has function like for Beauty, Function, Safety, Storage anything really...just be mindful that your stuff doesn't own you.  That you surround yourself with things that have an actual purpose.   Don't depend on your stuff to make you feel a certain way or for it to change something in your life.  I used to honestly think life would be better if all my dishes matched and if the bathroom was full of fresh new towels.  If I change the artwork around things would be better.  People would change if I could just make this house more cozy and less stressful.  People change when they accept responsibility to do so.  Nobody can lift the Denial Curtain accept the person behind it.  Indeed my life was more stressful, I was stressing myself out.  Not anymore though, gone are those days, I feel so relieved and I haven't bought towels in years.