Life Outside The Box
Aug. 3rd, 2014 10:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sinkwriterI've been reading this book entitled The Things That Matter, written by interior designer Nate Berkus. I'm finding it fascinating, funny, and in some parts, quite moving. This is not a "how to" book of home design, there are no rules or tips to follow. Instead, it's all about the things we own that make up who we are.
So many out there say that we aren't our things, that things shouldn't matter, and maybe on some level that's true. We could probably all stand to pare down a bit. But what Nate talks about in his book is also true: some things, maybe not all things, but some important things that we amass over our lifetime tell our stories.
As a blurb about the book says, "they reflect the places we've been and the people we've loved along the way..." A favorite book with an inscription from a friend in the opening page, a ticket stub from a concert, a cherished teacup that was once part of a great-grandmother's set brought all the way to North America from Europe during World War II, a pillow from your childhood that goes with you no matter how many times you move and is the first thing you make sure to unpack. Whatever the cherished item, in putting together a real home for ourselves we should take the things that matter most to us and find a way to highlight them rather than box them away for 'someday.'
What he talks about in this book has resonated with me because I've been thinking about that a lot in the past year or two. About "stuff." More specifically, MY stuff, and how for the past 6 years it's been boxed up and stored away.
When I got laid off from my job, I tried very hard to find a new one, but there came a time when I realized it was taking longer than planned and I could no longer afford to live in my apartment. So I boxed up all my things and moved in with my grandmother and two aunts who shared a home together.
When I made the choice to go back to school, I knew that meant staying with my relatives for several years, and I am so lucky that they were willing to give me that option. But it also meant keeping my stuff in storage for all that time.
It didn't seem to be that big a deal at first. After all, I'd already been out of work for a couple years by that point, and the main focus was on applying anywhere for almost anything I could, and then the focus became all about homework and learning new skills and attaining a new degree. Keeping my head down and focusing almost completely on school became my life for three and a half years. There was nothing else.
But as I neared the end of my schooling, I lifted my head up from the books and found myself daydreaming of a new job in my new field, and with that a new place of my own to live and work and play. I began to want it very much.
That really isn't the surprise. It's in our nature from the beginning, as kids turning to adulthood, that we seek independence. I like having my own space, I need it. There's peace in that for me.
What's surprising to me is the connection between me and my stuff. Most of it is just that: stuff. It's kitchen stuff and bathroom stuff and bedroom stuff, all those necessities, odds and ends. It's merely the inconsequential tools that I've used to live my daily life over the years. No big deal.
But as Nate discusses in his book, there are things that matter, that mean something to us, that make us smile or remember or reach out to touch them as soon as we see them. Those things shouldn't be boxed away; instead, they should be placed where we can see and enjoy them.
Which brings me back to the point I'm trying to make.
When I moved in with my relatives, I couldn't take much of anything. There simply wouldn't be room. And there were too many boxes -- there came a point when I could no longer remember what was in what box, so I couldn't even dig out what I wanted, if I needed it. Those things were all stacked up and shoved away.
That's the point. For the past six years, almost anything that might hold that special sort of value to me has been boxed up. As a result, I've felt boxed up. I feel like some of the things that remind me of who I am are missing right now, locked away, and that makes an impact more than I thought it would.
In the past 6 months since I finished school, I've felt such a yearning for something "more," and I know that's related to how boxed up I've been feeling.
It's tough for me to say that, because in a way it makes me feel like I'm somehow being disrespectful to the relatives who have housed me for these past years. I am so grateful to them for that shelter and care. It's not gone unnoticed by me that were it not for my family's help during this time, life could have taken a much more difficult path. I can see so easily how people who lose their jobs end up homeless. It could have been me.
Without support from my aunts, my grandmother, my parents, and my siblings, it would have been me.
At the same time, philosophically speaking, I believe there is more to life than just work and daily routine. There needs to be, or who are we, really? What makes us more than drones?
It's our stuff. Our life experiences, memories, interests and passions. And if mine have been boxed up for 6 years, is it any wonder that I feel like I'm itching to break out? Like I can't be myself when I'm not really in my own home, surrounded by the stuff that equals my experiences, memories and passions. Like metaphorically (and in some ways emotionally) I've spent 6 years stored away and now it is beyond time that I open back up.
I really want that.
And I'm really close to reaching that point.
I'll have to watch my budget but I finally feel secure enough in my new job to take the plunge and move out on my own again. In fact, I've been searching for an apartment for several months now, but nothing's been available. The housing market has been tough, so everything's booked up. Which has been a bit torturous for me, feeling more than ready to unpack myself but stuck waiting on the whims of someone else moving out of an apartment.
However, this past week I got a call that a tenant that had been in the process of buying a house has finally given 'final notice' and will likely move out by the end of August, which means if all goes well I could end up in a place of my own by mid to late September.
I'm still waiting to hear back for certain, but... I'm hopeful. And a little bit excited.
:)
So many out there say that we aren't our things, that things shouldn't matter, and maybe on some level that's true. We could probably all stand to pare down a bit. But what Nate talks about in his book is also true: some things, maybe not all things, but some important things that we amass over our lifetime tell our stories.
As a blurb about the book says, "they reflect the places we've been and the people we've loved along the way..." A favorite book with an inscription from a friend in the opening page, a ticket stub from a concert, a cherished teacup that was once part of a great-grandmother's set brought all the way to North America from Europe during World War II, a pillow from your childhood that goes with you no matter how many times you move and is the first thing you make sure to unpack. Whatever the cherished item, in putting together a real home for ourselves we should take the things that matter most to us and find a way to highlight them rather than box them away for 'someday.'
What he talks about in this book has resonated with me because I've been thinking about that a lot in the past year or two. About "stuff." More specifically, MY stuff, and how for the past 6 years it's been boxed up and stored away.
When I got laid off from my job, I tried very hard to find a new one, but there came a time when I realized it was taking longer than planned and I could no longer afford to live in my apartment. So I boxed up all my things and moved in with my grandmother and two aunts who shared a home together.
When I made the choice to go back to school, I knew that meant staying with my relatives for several years, and I am so lucky that they were willing to give me that option. But it also meant keeping my stuff in storage for all that time.
It didn't seem to be that big a deal at first. After all, I'd already been out of work for a couple years by that point, and the main focus was on applying anywhere for almost anything I could, and then the focus became all about homework and learning new skills and attaining a new degree. Keeping my head down and focusing almost completely on school became my life for three and a half years. There was nothing else.
But as I neared the end of my schooling, I lifted my head up from the books and found myself daydreaming of a new job in my new field, and with that a new place of my own to live and work and play. I began to want it very much.
That really isn't the surprise. It's in our nature from the beginning, as kids turning to adulthood, that we seek independence. I like having my own space, I need it. There's peace in that for me.
What's surprising to me is the connection between me and my stuff. Most of it is just that: stuff. It's kitchen stuff and bathroom stuff and bedroom stuff, all those necessities, odds and ends. It's merely the inconsequential tools that I've used to live my daily life over the years. No big deal.
But as Nate discusses in his book, there are things that matter, that mean something to us, that make us smile or remember or reach out to touch them as soon as we see them. Those things shouldn't be boxed away; instead, they should be placed where we can see and enjoy them.
Which brings me back to the point I'm trying to make.
When I moved in with my relatives, I couldn't take much of anything. There simply wouldn't be room. And there were too many boxes -- there came a point when I could no longer remember what was in what box, so I couldn't even dig out what I wanted, if I needed it. Those things were all stacked up and shoved away.
That's the point. For the past six years, almost anything that might hold that special sort of value to me has been boxed up. As a result, I've felt boxed up. I feel like some of the things that remind me of who I am are missing right now, locked away, and that makes an impact more than I thought it would.
In the past 6 months since I finished school, I've felt such a yearning for something "more," and I know that's related to how boxed up I've been feeling.
It's tough for me to say that, because in a way it makes me feel like I'm somehow being disrespectful to the relatives who have housed me for these past years. I am so grateful to them for that shelter and care. It's not gone unnoticed by me that were it not for my family's help during this time, life could have taken a much more difficult path. I can see so easily how people who lose their jobs end up homeless. It could have been me.
Without support from my aunts, my grandmother, my parents, and my siblings, it would have been me.
At the same time, philosophically speaking, I believe there is more to life than just work and daily routine. There needs to be, or who are we, really? What makes us more than drones?
It's our stuff. Our life experiences, memories, interests and passions. And if mine have been boxed up for 6 years, is it any wonder that I feel like I'm itching to break out? Like I can't be myself when I'm not really in my own home, surrounded by the stuff that equals my experiences, memories and passions. Like metaphorically (and in some ways emotionally) I've spent 6 years stored away and now it is beyond time that I open back up.
I really want that.
And I'm really close to reaching that point.
I'll have to watch my budget but I finally feel secure enough in my new job to take the plunge and move out on my own again. In fact, I've been searching for an apartment for several months now, but nothing's been available. The housing market has been tough, so everything's booked up. Which has been a bit torturous for me, feeling more than ready to unpack myself but stuck waiting on the whims of someone else moving out of an apartment.
However, this past week I got a call that a tenant that had been in the process of buying a house has finally given 'final notice' and will likely move out by the end of August, which means if all goes well I could end up in a place of my own by mid to late September.
I'm still waiting to hear back for certain, but... I'm hopeful. And a little bit excited.
:)
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no subject
Date: 2014-08-04 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 07:19 am (UTC)Anyway, I just applied right before the weekend, so I have to wait for them to process all the paperwork and do their credit checks and such, but I'm hoping everything works out.
How's things with you?
no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 01:32 am (UTC)As I asked
:)
no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 02:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 08:34 am (UTC)I found myself nodding along while I was reading your post, a lot of what you said made perfect sense and you wrote it so eloquently.
Huge hugs and good luck, I hope you are able to get that place that you want. HUGS
no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 01:31 am (UTC)I think it's going to be a discovery sort of unpacking -- I'll be going through all my stuff and saying, "OH! I forgot all about this wonderful thing! This reminds me of..." It will be a bit of an archaeological dig, LOL.
I'm looking forward to unpacking. I have this plan to take all boxes that aren't necessities and put them in the storage closet of the apartment, and then one by one I'm going to go through the boxes and sort according to "keep this, sell this, throw this out, or donate this" and pare down to the "things" that mean the most to me. We'll see how that goes!
Apparently the apartment should be ready for me by September 12!
So... as I asked
no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 04:45 am (UTC)If there was a fire, the first thing I would do is grab my comics and graphic novels. The pets would have the sense to race out of the house so I don't think I would have to worry about them so much. :-)
After that, my photos, CDs and DVDs, all my other stuff, clothes jewellery etc are pretty much replaceable.
Sorry if it sounds kind of shallow but I really love my comics and many of them are now out of print now. But allow me to explain...
I came from a pretty dysfunctional family, my mother even though she was very loving was suffering from severe depression and became mentally ill. I think because of this comics became my escape from a pretty unhappy childhood. My father would bring home stacks and stacks of comics from work so I grew up with Ritchie Rich, Archie, the old EC horrors, Batman, Superman The Fantastic Four etc and I think when I read them now, I sort of go into my happy place. :-)
I think everyone should have one thing that makes them happy. :-D
no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 09:02 am (UTC)I totally understand what you mean about feeling boxed up, by the way. I think that contributed, in part (among many other things), to the depression I was mired in in my early-to-mid twenties. I was stuck living at home when I didn't want to be anymore, I was stuck in a city I was growing to hate, and for the 6 years I lived with my mother, I never bothered to really make my room my own space, and a lot of things stayed boxed up. 6 years! I just didn't feel motivated to settle into that space, because I didn't want to be there. Now that I'm in LA, in both places I've lived here, I've unboxed as much as possible, and made my spaces my own, and of course overall I'm much happier in life. There are many reasons for this, naturally, but I totally believe the "stuff" factor is one of them.
Also, it's funny you're reading that particular book; I've met Nate! He's been in the store a few times and signed his book for us, so I think he either visits often, or is locally based. Nice man.
I also saw this book come through the store recently, on the subject of removing some of the stigma from "things". I'm definitely one to hang onto things (even "silly" or seemingly meaningless ones) more than maybe most would. Call me sentimental. ;)
no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 01:22 am (UTC)I think I know what you mean about the feeling of 'stuck.' That's how I've felt for the past few years. Thankfully, I had school, so I pretty much kept my head down and focused almost completely on that. But like you in your mom's house, I've never really made my room my own here. I felt welcome enough, of course, but it never felt like "my" space, you know? It's my aunts' home. It's their space. And though they never really did anything to make me feel that way, I had never planned to stay this long and going back to school was certainly never a thought in my head. So I never made the space my own; I can't help feeling like it's not really my room or my place to put anything up that's truly mine.
Of course, the longer I stayed, the more intense the closed-off feeling, that my life was boxed up and scattered. I was trying to talk about it this week with my therapist but I'm not sure I made a clear point. He was concerned that I'll become a recluse, once I get into my own place, especially because my job is work-from-home. I'll certainly have to be careful of working too much on the computer and not getting out and about, but I'm looking forward to moving because I'll finally get to unpack myself. I'll be busting out of those boxes! :D
In a way, I feel like I haven't taken very good care of myself lately. Like, what's the point? I'm all boxed up anyway. I'm stuck. That's why I'm looking forward to moving (no matter how tiring I know the actual move and unpacking will be). Because I'll be able to unpack my 'stuff,' and feel like my space is mine, like I'm regaining independence, that I can take care of myself in the ways I want to, rather than stuck doing things the way people around me prefer. Granted, there was no rule that said I couldn't do that while I was living with my aunts, but... there's just something difficult about making place and time your own when you know it's not.
I don't know. Am I making any sense?
It's cool that you've met Nate! How fun. He seemed like a nice man on TV. And I really enjoyed his book. Lots of food for thought. :)
Thanks for the link to the other book. I'll have to check it out.
So... if you feel comfortable sharing, what are some of your special "things"? What do you see and smile at in your space? What would you grab first if there was a fire? :)
no subject
Date: 2014-08-10 07:33 am (UTC)there's just something difficult about making place and time your own when you know it's not.
Exactly! And I had always lived with a parent up to that point in my life, so it's not like I'd even had a break of independence (yet), and even then it felt wrong. It was overdue, I was so ready to be gone, but I was just... stuck.
Of course I feel comfortable! It's not an easy one to answer though, because a lot of the more "keepsake" things (like photos and sentimental things) are still boxed away under the staircase in this house I'm living in, because I just don't have the space to indulge in always having access to them, you know? (Which is just one of many reasons I hope this place doesn't burn down, lol. Unlike my "always prepare for the apocalypse" mother, I'm not exactly primed for having to leave the premises in a hurry. Fortunately, east Hollywood is not really a fire prone area, unlike the one I used to live in...)
I'm a notorious keeper of little things. I have a little "matchbook story" thing Manny randomly gave me at work around when we first met. Lobby cards from films I've seen in town and liked. Movie ticket and concert stubs. Most of my space, of course, is always taken up by books, books, books, lol.