Letting go of history

I’ve just spent the last few days clearing out my old bedroom in my parent’s house. Two reasons: To update it to a bedroom more befitting a woman in her late 20’s who has just arrived home empty handed after a painful breakup; and because I have learned that ‘stuff’ has a huge impact on my personal well-being.

I come from a family that are just bordering on the description of hoarders. To illustrate, my parents lounge is a mish mash of old furniture, old exercise equipment and an old dressing table that my father currently uses as his base of computer related operations (downloading stuff). If you happen to come over and use our bathroom, you will notice, whilst perched upon the porcelain loo, that our shelving system is really just an old piece of point-of-sale display. My father must’ve dragged back home from the bosses warehouse tip.

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