The Yellow Door Life

We have too much stuff.

Too much baggage.

Emotional.
Physical.
Spiritual.

I grew up in a house that always had plenty of stuff.

I had a corner full of stuffed animals in my childhood home. I used to call it Beanie Baby Corner.

We had decor and books and toys and CDs and clothes.

There was never a lack of stuff.

But not the stuff that mattered.

…

I remember one Christmas Eve, I couldn’t sleep. I really wanted a toy medical set and I kept hoping Santa was going to bring it to me.

I snuck out of my room and wandered into the living room where the Christmas tree sat in front of a large window that overlooked our driveway, front yard, and Welton Ave.

I spent a lot of time in front of that window.

I dreamed a lot of dreams and made lots of wishes on the stars that hung up in the night sky outside.

I used to duck and hide when cars drove by.

I used to wait there anxiously when friends were supposed to come over to play.

That night, I stared out the window at the cold, frosty ground below, with Christmas lights illuminating the room behind me, and suddenly the need for the toy medical set was gone.

I wanted much more than a toy could ever give.

…

My dad worked on the road, so using storage units was a regular part of his routine. He would move to a city temporarily for work and he didn’t know if he would be staying long enough to get an apartment, or if he’d be in a hotel semi-long-term, so he would get a storage unit to store the majority of his belongings.

He always had one.

So I just grew up thinking it was normal to have one.

As he got older, and called Texas, instead of Colorado home, he had one particular storage unit in Lubbock.

He kept everything in it, even his treasured, classical guitars.

I hated that he didn’t really feel like he had a place of his own, and that he insisted on using storage units, but that was his choice, so I let it be.

The apartment my dad had at the time wasn’t in the best neighborhood and the other tenants were not exactly a fan of him living there.

He often forgot to lock his car at night and one night, a few young men took a bunch of stuff from his car including his phone. Earlier that week, he had emailed me the address of his storage unit and gate code because he was having surgery and he wanted me to have it in case something happened.

Those young men accessed the storage facility, broke into my dad’s unit, and stole everything inside. When my dad filed the insurance claim he estimated the worth of the contents at about $35k.

He never recovered from that incident. He stayed angry, even after the insurance money came through.

He wanted justice.

…

A couple years later, my dad was getting ready to come visit us for Thanksgiving, and he went to his new storage unit (yes he still got another one after all that) to retrieve family photos, so he could bring them back to me for safe keeping.

He was weak and the neuropathy in his feet was terrible.

He fell.

He had to call an ambulance.

When I came to visit him a month later, I went to the storage unit to help him sort through stuff and I saw the blood stains on the ground from where he fell.

When he passed away, I dreaded going back into that storage unit.

…

I’ve spent my whole life accumulating stuff.

Sure, some stuff is necessary for us to function.

Having some sentimental things is great.

But the majority of the stuff we carry and store and worry about? Most of it is trash.

I think about this every time I drive past a storage facility.

But how much storage are we taking up in our homes and hearts with stuff that no longer serves us?

…

In one month, I will turn 35.

My present to myself this year?

A purge.

Of stuff.
Stuff that no longer serves me, or never actually did.

I’m blessed to have my life with my family, friends, and students, but there is still a big hole in my heart.

A hole that may forever ache from the people that have gone too soon, or the people I thought would have arrived by now, and haven’t.

But what I do know is I can’t fill that hole with any more of the wrong stuff, so it has to go.

Perhaps with less stuff around, I will be able to refocus and reignite my light which has recently felt so dim.

❤