Sunday, 8 July 2018

30 Day Writing Challenge 8/30: Struggles

Day 8: Share something that you struggle with

There's a habit that I have that I wouldn't always say that I struggle with, but there occasionally come times when I have to admit that it is a problem. This habit is hoarding.

I'm most definitely a hoarder. Not a hoarder of anything in particular, just things that I think are interesting or cool. One look at the shelf in my bedroom above my desk tells you all that you need to know about my bad habit. There's an empty bottle of Brooklyn Gin that is just so pretty that there was no way that I was going to let my mum throw it out. Same goes for the vintage tin that once held little individually-wrapped chocolates. Inside a clear container on the shelf below that used to be a box of Ferrero Rocher are keyrings, badges, keys to lockable journals that I don't even own anymore, story ideas that I scribbled on the backs of receipts behind the till at my first job, and the list goes on. On top of said container is a toy car that I took from a previous job when the building was getting refurbished. No one had claimed it, it had been there for months, and it would just get thrown away otherwise, so by that logic, it was up for grabs.

This only really becomes a problem for me when someone points out how much stuff I have. That's not the only word people use to describe the items that fill my drawers and shelves - 'rubbish', 'garbage', 'crap', and many, many more - but I'd say that 'stuff' is probably the most accurate term. I don't consider these things that I choose to keep as 'rubbish' because everything has meaning. To everybody else, it might seem like these things have no meaning, but everything I keep, I keep for a reason. That bottle and that tin that I mentioned earlier? I could use them as decoration - or the tin for storage of some kind - when I eventually get my own place. The keys? Well, you never know when you might need to open a cheaply-made padlock. The story ideas? A sign of how far my writing has come since I was sixteen and trying to find inspiration while working in a café.

And this is why clearing out my room or preparing to move home is so difficult. I know that I have to get rid of the clutter and keep only what is important in an attempt to move on, and yet, I can't. Whenever I attempt to throw something out, a tiny, evil part of my brain chimes in with 'But what if you need it at some point in the future? You can't throw out a huge box of old party poppers and a stack of disposable espresso cups! What if you have a New Year party, or feel the need to have a very very small coffee and then throw away the cup?' And the sad thing is that it's this part of my brain that normally wins. When I moved out of my Dundee flat, I was as ruthless as I could possibly be while emptying out my drawers, and when I got home, I was still told that I had brought home too much. I guess I just can't let some things go. 
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