Since my divorce four years ago when I have tried to declutter the basement, I always think about getting rid of it, but keep it. I always figured some day when I was having a baby I would need it.
When you have a baby, you will need support, information, and inspiration… and you will receive it, just as this magazine came to you with such ease before. This one is for the baby you lost. You won’t need it for the next child. Your loss is undeniable, painful, and a million other things that I recognize only in the way that another woman who’s lost a child in her womb can know. That magazine represents that life and the loss of it but the magazine is not that life or that loss, and releasing it will free you, not from having had a miscarriage but from clinging to the loss in a way that holds you back.
I feel like it means I will never have my dream of having my own family.
I gently, lovingly, and respectfully ask that you consider this statement again… is it true that releasing this magazine will keep you from having a baby? Or that it will keep you from remembering that you want to have a baby? I imagine that your response is something like, “of course not.”
Is there something different, perhaps something more true and consistent with your actual feelings about this life and loss, that you can do to honor the memory this magazine represents? I’ve heard of many different ideas (for example planting a tree, writing a letter and releasing it by fire, wind, earth, or water, etc.) and would be honored to explore some of them with you, if you’d like.
I understand now that there is a sixth element I neglected before, and it must be tended in order for us to release these things that no longer serve us. I’m seeing it over and over again, this paralysis between our spirit and our stuff. The reason that stuff is here, occupying the space we need to breathe and think and live, is that it causes us discomfort to release it. It causes us discomfort to even consider releasing it, or perhaps even to consider it at all. So, we try not to. We put it in our basements and our attics. We stuff it in the closet and close the door. We spend our entire lives trying to find a way to manage our stuff–buying more organizing materials, searching for “better” housekeeping ideas, and beating ourselves up for failing to keep our stuff in order. That’s managing our stuff, instead of managing our lives.
The stuff is locked into the feelings and the feelings are locked into the stuff. It doesn’t matter from which side we break the lock. What matters is that we break it. When we have the courage to say, “I’m sick of being stuck,” and begin this process of releasing those things that no longer serve us, everything becomes possible. It works because dealing with our clutter is simply a willingness to, at long last, deal with ourselves.
Image credit: puuikibeach via Flickr