A timely article as I’m currently pondering whether I’m really getting that much out of the whole therapy thing anymore. A lot of what they talk about seems to be a fair description of how I’ve handled my own life the past few years, which is frankly a lot better than I maybe thought I was dealing with it at the time.

I particularly liked their focus on solutions rather than fig,uring out the genesis of problems and on the idea that no matter what you do, things are pretty much going to suck a lot of the time and the there’s not a hell of a lot you can do about it. Once of the things it took me a while to recognize is that depression is not primarily about feeling sad or hopeless. It’s about how you deal with life and whether your sadness (or anger or bitterness or complete ambivalence or whatever) defines the way you live that life. it’s less about how shitty you feel and more about what you manage to do in spite of how lousy you feel…and that includes recognizing when you need some help with the process.

So this:

So it’s going into accepting what you can’t control, the factors that are out of your hands, and seeing what you can do with what you can control. And learning to be proud of yourself not just for accomplishing what you can, and not beating yourself up for what you can’t. Not seeing yourself as a failure, when you haven’t really failed because it’s not something that you could have controlled in the first place. And admiring your ability to withstand a feeling of rejection, and the frustration and the pain, and keep going on towards a more reasonable goal while being a good person. That’s also what’s emphasized so heavily. Figuring out your own values and sticking to them.

And this:

Our support of profanity isn’t that we think people should get up and scream horrible things at other people, but it’s about helping people to get a sense of humor about what bothers them. As my father said, to take things less personally.

And especially this:

It’s hard to continue to do what you think is important when you’re faced with something shitty on a daily basis. Some people deal with that, and they become shitty to their kids, they become mean to people around them, they get fired from their job because they stop showing up. You deserve to give yourself a pat on the back for living a normal life in adverse circumstances.

In retrospect, I’ve probably accomplished the most with my life during some of the most difficult times when I felt the absolute worst. I’m not sure what the relationship was, or if there even was a relationship, but I suspect having a sense of humor about it all probably didn’t hurt. And if humor was a “defense mechanism” or an “avoidance strategy”, who the fuck cares as long as it kept me alive and kicking?

So I heard it again today. This time I was in pancake house in Richmond, Virginia, rather than a hoffbrau in Daly City, California. Again I found myself in a time capsule of a restaurant (one that had a juicing machine that invoked the spirit of the Florida Sunshine Tree).

Fifteen years have passed since that odd moment in Daly City, but I still remember the sensation of wonder at how I came to be in that place at that time. It wasn’t a negative thing, really. I think I was just a bit bemused.

Yeah, that’s a good word…

A hell of a lot has happened since then, and I like to think I’m a little less baffled now. I’ve bounced around a good bit more and I did much of that bouncing with a partner. But I’m alone again, as I was this morning, and I pretty much think that fits. It works for me and doesn’t cause anyone else problems. I have a bit more direction now, and maybe my life is a bit more “orderly” but I still have a lot of fun. Granted, I define “fun” a little differently now, but I still love more than anything else to explore…which is why I was in a pancake house in Richmond, Virginia, this morning.

Yes, I’ve found several more occasions to think the world was ending since 1999, and yes, things have still not always worked out according to plan. And all in all, the world has still not really ended, no matter how much I thought it might. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve developed a little more perspective; even though I still start bawling from time to time, and even though I’ve known a whole new world of stress the past few years, I also know it’s not a terminal condition and that I will eventually get through whatever is causing me trouble.

I have no idea where I will be fifiteen years from now. Im dying to find out.

No attention span. Latest stuff:

• The house sale continues to be a nightmare, thanks to that fucking oil tank that we thought nine years ago would be “no big deal.” So far it’s probably cost me $15,000 and I still don’t have a clean bill of health. the buyers (and their lender) are getting nervous. So am I.
• That said, the house is mostly cleared out. And the non-tank repairs came in at (slightly) under $6500, so there’s that. If I can keep expenses at this level, at least I won’t owe money at closing.
• The chimney sweep was as cute as a bug’s ear. it was a lust connection.
• After moving them yet again, I’m torn. Should I leave my records to someone I really like or to someone I really hate?
• Finished my next article today, more or less. If I can get one or two of my librarian pals to give it a look tomorrow, I may actually get it submitted on time.
• Pondering Pittsburgh for Labor Day weekend, as Toronto for Thanksgiving in October is looking much less likely.
• Someone who gets it.
• Best news of the week? I am once again not at Burning Man. That fact may make up for all my other stress.

Sometimes you have to take a day or two off just to catch up with your life.

Today was that day for me. I knocked out a huge pile of things that have been hanging over my head, related to the sale of the house and to my mom. I no longer feel like everything is so out of control. And I’m thinking I may actually take a day off this weekend (and not use it to write an article like I did last weekend).

That said, the disposition of the house has been delayed, maybe for several weeks, due to a storm this week that forced the contractor to push back the oil tank removal. No comment yet from the buyers, but I think they’re pretty invested at this point and they apparently love the house, so I’m thinking things will be OK.

Got rid of a car today, and a shitload of stuff leaves tomorrow to help Habitat (or to line the pocket of the junkman). Just for reference, you can sell a car without a properly notarized title transfer in North Carolina as long as it’s for salvage and the car is more than ten years old. You apparently cannot, however, donate it or sell it to someone who may actually want to register it. As I’m all about making things as simple as possible these days, I opted for the $175 path of least resistance. The extra cash will cover one or two per cent of the oil tank removal cost.

Also for the record, no one (charity shops included) wants big, useless entertainment centers or particle-board computer desks. And Greensboro is much more advanced in its waste management program than Winston-Salem. By “advanced”, I mean that recycling is easier and everything else is generally less of a pain in the ass in Greensboro. Unfortunately, most of the stuff I need to get rid of is in Winston-Salem.

Getting rid of stuff makes me strangely happy. So I should be ecstatic tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll even splurge and do this. I saw them a couple of years ago and they do put on quite the show.

The approved librarian term for weeding collections is “deaccessioning.” Contrary to popular belief, we don’t hold on to every item we have until the end of time. We have to get rid of things periodically, and this is usually done through some set of criteria based on how useful the items remain over time. Sentiment can factor in to the process, but shouldn’t really be the primary factor.

I’m moving right now. Actually, I’ve already pretty much moved, but I’m consolidating the two houses (and a few leftovers from the one in Pittsburgh as well) and getting rid of a lot of stuff in the process. There are a few specific items that have some sentimental value for me and I’m having to consider whether they have enough value to justify keeping them. This is a process I wish my mom had gone through at some point in her past as well, but in a sprawling, suburban place like the American Sunbelt, it just doesn’t happen–at least not for settled residents who own their own homes that they can fill with limitless collections and accumulations of crap.

In fact, the ability to hold on to things like this was something that attracted me back to the whole detached single-family home model nine years ago. I like hanging on to things. It was also apparently attractive to my ex, since a not insignificant proportion of the stuff I’ve been “deaccessioning” was originally his. When you think you have unlimited space, it’s easy to avoid making decisions about what stays and what goes.

Until some event like a divorce, or a death, or a “geographical realignment” forces that decision, that is…

For me, the consolidation of the houses is the current incarnation of that event, and I’m using it an opportunity to get rid of tons of things I really have no use for. When a letter or a photo or a small toy has some special meaning or memory attached to it, it’s not unreasonable to hang on to it. But what if the thing that has sentimental value is a bedroom suite that–apart from the memories–you don’t really need or like that much? Or maybe a box of items that you otherwise wouldn’t have any real use for? is there really any reason to hold on to things like that when they actually start causing you stress rather than giving you pleasure? How important are things that you keep in a box in the basement and never look at except when you move or need to “rearrange” them to make room for more stuff?

I have several large pieces of furniture like this, many of which I have offered to sell or give away to Facebook friends. Some of these friends have suggested that i really “should” hold onto items because they were my grandmother’s or because they pertain to my childhood or whatever. But these are big, bulky things that take up space and that I would never acquire on my own given the opportunity to do so. Why should I keep lugging them from place to place and stepping around them when I really have no good use for them? It’s not like I’m going to forget my grandmother if I sell this bedroom suite that’s too big and not my style. And why do I need boxes of newspapers that I’ll never read and whose content is really of no interest to me just because they remind me of a specific trip I took in 2008 or because I think that I’ll eventually forget what newspapers look like if I don’t keep them?

I won’t even get started on the pressure I’ve gotten from some of my cousins to hang on to my dad’s guns. It’s great that he loved them. i don’t. They make me nervous and I don’t want them in my house. Case closed. And the funny thing is that these cousins are strangely hesitant when I offer to give them the whole fucking arsenal.

So I’m being pretty ruthless. I’m only hanging on to furniture that (a) I really like or (b) serves some useful purpose in my life. And I’m not feeling bad about deaccessioning items that match neither criterion. I’m selling what I can get rid of with minimal effort (I can’t be bothered with yard sales or Craigslist) and calling Habitat or the junk man to get rid of the rest. The funny thing is that once I made the decision, the process got so much easier! I think it helps that I was a city kid who lived in cramped urban quarters for many years; interestingly, I buy groceries like a city kid too, with multiple small trips rather than big weekend excursions.

I’m learning to do the same thing with people.

Over the past few years, I’ve reconnected with lots of old friends, some of them people I haven’t talked to in twenty years or more. I’m incredibly excited to be back in touch with a lot of these people. I’ve missed them and we were able to resume our friendships with ease. With others, I have–how shall I say this?–quickly realized that there was a reason why we’d lost touch.

In some cases, it’s because they became batshit crazy lunatics or never grew out of the “drugs, drama, and divahood (divadom?)” of their twenties. With these, I pretty much manage to lose touch again as quickly as possible because I have anough bullshit in my own life without taking on the additional bullshit of someone else who adds nothing positive to my life in the process. I have a few interesting Facebook anecdotes I can share if you want illustrations.

With others, I find that they have just moved off in a different direction and I’ve discovered that we really don’t have much to talk about anymore. Reminiscing about drinking in bars in 1989 is only interesting for so long if you have nothing new to add to the conversation. Usually, I think they realize it too and we just sort of back off again, realizing that our “friendship” will be the modern equivalent of running into each other downtown every few years, having a five-minute “catch up” on the street corner and then moving on. I have no animosity, but there’s no need to expend effort cultivating a relationship that clearly offers no real benefit to either party.

Like my house, my life is cluttered enough without feeling the need to maintain relationships that really don’t make me happy anymore. And I have way too many stressful relationships that I can’t ignore for one reason or another to hang onto additional ones that can be avoided, especially if we’re just friends because of fifteen or twenty years of inertia or a shared experience that ended years ago and was never replaced by anything new.

Now if I could just get a little better at letting go of grudges. And pictures. And cans of green beans…