Hoarding and happiness

Do I really need two hot water bottles? Or three pairs of black high heels?

Do I need the clothes that do not fit, kept because they were a frigging steal.

Do I really need the trainers that I haven’t worn for years? Or the face cream, that when I wear it, brought me almost to tears.

Kitchen items, never used. Books I’ve never read. Gym stuff that I’ve never opened, hats for my big head. 

Handbags, not sure where to start. Or where they even end. One for every occasion. Literally. Instead I opt for ‘M’, my bestest friend.

This moving malarkey is difficult. Consolidating all your crap. Makes you realise what you really need, rather than boxes of this and that. 

Instead, I’ve accumulated all this ‘stuff’ over the last three years. Probably to fill a hole; a void, to beat sadness and tears. 

Good job, new place and adventures. I’m feeling quite alright. I’m finally starting to realise that I don’t need all this shite. 

Happiness comes in different forms, I’m more than aware of that. While I’ve been searching for my happy, I’ve just hoarded lots of crap. 

But now’s the time to say goodbye to all that extra stuff and I bid it a fond farewell. It might also be because my new place is small and can’t deal with the hoarding hell. 

I’ll keep the things that make me happy, plus my family and my friends. They’re the ones who have been there for me, from beginning to the end.

This doesn’t mean I’ll stop shopping, or going on a spending spree. But I think I finally ‘get’ my happy. I finally ‘get’ me.