Purge

As I continue to pack my life away into boxes, marvelling at just how much crap I've managed to collect despite my best efforts at minimalism, I'm again going through a purge, tossing out all sorts of things I no longer have use for. I plan to do the same when unpacking, in fact, to further reduce the clutter of my life. Last night and today, while I didn't actually pack all that much, was the most poignant. Whereas before it was just packing away lots of stuff I seldom use, last night and today I finally faced the task of sorting through 2 deposits of personal memorabilia, and that meant choosing what to keep and what to toss. And while the decisions weren't terribly difficult ones, they were nonetheless a little harrowing. In some cases, it was because I found things I'd thought I'd long ago discarded, which served now only as painful reminders of a time of my life I prefer to forget. But putting those, and her, behind me was easy. In others, it was facing the horrific task of throwing away something that once meant so much to me, a silent acknowledgement of the fact that a relationship I once so much enjoyed was not just over, but a part of a closed chapter of my life that cannot be revisited. Determinedly condemning her to the past is not nearly so easily done, albeit just as necessary. And then, in yet another case, I found a few truly old things that have obviously survived many moves before now, items from relationships of long long ago. And with a few, I made the same decision today that I've obviously made many times before, put them into a box destined for my new home, where they'll reside in a bottom drawer somewhere, never looked on, and yet somehow still a part of me. There beneath a pile of junk they'll remain, just as there beneath the surface, my dark infection forever lingers.

I don't know whether I'd called it "fortunate", but I am unable to focus much on these thoughts of the past, which I suppose is a good thing really. Sadly, it's because I'm so terribly anxious today thinking about my suddenly desperate financial situation. Paperwork I submitted last November went astray, and so they withdrew student loan payments in January rather unexpectedly. And as everyone who's ever spent any time dealing with banks knows: you say it's their mistake, they say it's yours, and at the end of the day, they keep your money and you get screwed.

I so dreadfully hate money, and finances. It is the root of evil. It is the most obvious symbol of mankind's materialism and the root of our suffering. Perhaps some day I'll shock the world by running off to join a Buddhist monastery.

I remind myself repeatedly how much worse things could be, how I don't have anyone to support, very few bills, and ultimately I'll still have a roof over my head at the end of the day. In fact, if I didn't have a significant portion of money locked up unaccessible to me, I'd be fine for many more months. But my litany against financial fears won't let me sleep tonight, just as my litany against joblessness hasn't helped me sleep much in months. I only hope that in the future, after I've turned the corner and gotten back to something regular, that I won't forget these sleepless nights, and that I'll use this experience to remind myself of the need to plan better for the future, instead of living day-to-day.