We're given a prompt and 12-13 minutes to write...
Look what I found in the dumpster...
it's my life...in black Hefty trash bags!
I spent my Monday morning in the throes of decluttering. You'd think I'd have nothing left in my apartment...you'd be incorrect, Sir!
Like I said, I spent my Monday morning decluttering. I started with a set of drawers - purposedly untouched because I know what lurks inside. Bills, magazines, receipts, mail, letters, notes, crap, crap and more crap.
Crayons, markers, coloring books. Really?
Boxes of stamps and ink from my "crafty" period.
Tons of scrapbooking items from my "craty" period, phase II.
Pictures from my last day of teaching in 2000 of kids I don't remember.
Cards from people all over the world congratulating me on my pageant win. In 1997.
Without thought, these pieces of me were thrown into black trash bags, tied up and left outside my apartment door. I moved on to three stacked drawers and attacked with the same fervor and absence of thought - toss, tie, outside the door.
As I dragged the last of six bags down to the dumpster, I stared at the scene. Pieces of me and my life in six black trash bags, sitting in a dumpster. I ran upstairs and right into bed.
I thought this process would be freeing, lifting a burden, relief and release. Not yesterday. It was almost paralyzing. It's left me raw and exposed and feeling extremely vulnerable.
I know this is a good thing. Or, it will be. But yesterday, I found pieces of me in the dumpster and that sucked.