Finding Freedom From Fixtures

After recently taking a workshop with Marylee Fairbanks (http://maryleefairbanks.com/) I have decided to begin my own "24 Things" challenge (http://maryleefairbanks.com/24-things/). The rules are simple: each day for 24 days you let go of something that has been cluttering up your house, something that no longer serves you, objects that will be better suited at a yard sale, donation box, or in a trash barrel. During the 24 day release, one should only purchase necessities-- food, medical care, etc. All other material desires should be added to an ongoing list. If you are able to remember the items on your list at the end of the 24 days, then you are free to purchase them, otherwise they are likely to have been unimportant. According to Marylee, "The clutter in our house reflects the clutter in our hearts." Are we clinging to mementos of past relationships? Unwanted gifts that we were too polite to turn away? Clothes that haven't fit for years? Objects that no longer reflect who we are currently in this ever-changing body and mind of ours? Are the things we surround ourselves with keeping us rooted in the past, preventing us from blossoming into the future? In order to invite abundance into our lives, we must eliminate the unnecessary clutter that surrounds us.

Although Marylee recommends four cycles, corresponding to the four seasons, of 24 Things each year, the timing of her most recent workshop and the significance of this period in my own life could not have been better. I will be beginning my solitary 24 Things today, April 29th exactly one year after my (ex) husband told me he was moving out. In exactly 24 days I will turn 28 years old. I cannot think of a better way to mark the end of a year of transformation and to usher in another year of abundance, love, and gratitude for this life that constantly challenges and inspires me.

"One good thing to remember when clearing out is this: If you have an object that makes the past feel more important than the future then you should let it go. The past is gone. Your present is all that need be nourished." ~Marylee Fairbanks

Thursday, August 29, 2013

70: Red Sox Tickets

My father's hatred for the Red Sox began when he was a boy and Ted Williams did something that he found offensive.  He always routed for the Yankees, probably because they rivaled the Red Sox better than any other team. Children are impressionable and often adopt their parents' beliefs and values without question. I grew up cheering on the Yankees and my bias became even stronger after the Red Sox caused the restaurant where I was first employed to close down.

Like just about everyone else who lives in or around Boston, my husband was a Red Sox fan. It never really much mattered since we didn't watch the games together, but I was sure to get in a good dig any time the Yankees won.

A year before my husband left me I could see our marriage was failing, but I was still trying to cling to the idea that we would work things out. I thought if we went on date nights we could at least try to be happy together. The day after one of our talks that always ended in tears, I received an email from someone at work who was selling Red Sox tickets. I texted my husband and asked if he'd want to go and he agreed it would be a good time.

The day of the game I had an energy that comes only from excited anticipation. I'd never worn the lime green Red Sox t-shirt that he bought me five years prior for my twenty-first birthday.  I was sure he would have forgotten about it and was eager to surprise him by wearing it to the train station to pick him up. I stopped at Walgreens on the way home from work and bought a plain black baseball hat to wear to block the sun on the perfect 80 degree, late spring day.  I pulled out the lime green shirt from the bottom of my drawer, removed the official tag that was still hanging from the plastic piece on the collar, and pressed the wrinkles flat. It looked ridiculous on me, but I was willing to wear it because I thought that it might make my husband happy.

He was late leaving work and texted me to say that he might be working a double. I thought he might have forgotten about the game even though I'd been reminding him of it for months. He responded to say he didn't want to go anymore. I felt my body go limp with disappointment. He ended up leaving work late and insisted on walking home from the train station. I thought I'd be able to convince him to go once he got home, but he'd already made up his mind. It was Memorial Day and he was feeling the wounds of the friends he'd lost in and out of combat. I thought it might get his mind off things to go out and watch a game on a beautiful night, but he refused. I offered to do something different with him-- go out to eat or into Boston to walk around, anything except sit around the house and sulk, but he was adamant about staying home. He said something about how the Red Sox shirt didn't even fit me and went into the other room.

I went from practically skipping through the Walgreens parking lot, to wanting to break down and cry in a corner of my apartment.  Though he had good reason to be feeling upset, I couldn't help but think that the same thing would have happened if the tickets had been any other day. I knew then that our marriage wasn't going to make it much longer.

I never even took the tickets out of the envelope. They stayed between the pages of the planner in my purse for the rest of the year. Every time I opened the agenda book to write in a date the envelope would remind me of that night. At the end of the year I moved the agenda book to the bottom shelf in a closet that I rarely went in. Two years later, the agenda book and tickets were still inconspicuously taking up space in my home and heart. How freeing it is to let things go.
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