Secrets and Attachments
I remember when my mom took away my Blanky. Save it, you had one too. I protested, probably even cried a few tears, but inside I knew what she was doing, and I gave in. I let it go, and moved on to baseball cards. No big deal. This lesson has helped me throughout my life. Though I am not great at it, I can purge “sentimental” clutter when needed, and do the hard things, when necessary, kind of. Certain things, on the other hand, were not so easy to let go of. In fact, I have a collection of probably close to one thousand secrets and stories that I keep right inside my untidy, little storage unit two stories above my ass.
I have spent the last two years decluttering, and throwing away all of it. It has been the most painful, and rewarding experience of my life. It has been the most important work I have ever done. I haven’t, and will never, stop working on letting go of the unnecessary garbage that I have accumulated in my head. I am addicted.
It began with giving up alcohol. I couldn’t do the work drunk, hungover, or in-between, and the work had to be done. It got to a point when I was so poisoned internally, I could no longer make a healthy gut decision with any confidence. I could not discern true from false, and my body, mind, and spirit were spiraling down a drain. The shitty part was when I realized it was me that was holding the plug.
The first stage of the process was to flush the system. That took about 90 days to feel recovered physically and functioning somewhat normally. Mentally, I knew I was in for the long haul, but every minute of the day was like an hour for the first couple of weeks. One thousand secret stories were now coming in at full volume, in Super-Mega HD, and the remote was in the hand of a chimpanzee with 3 gallons of coffee, and a bag of cookies in his system.
Since then, it has been a grueling session of analyzing and cutting the mental reel of film. I had to find, shred, burn, and destroy all the “Blankies” I was saving in my mind to self-describe my identity. Holy shit, I had no idea. It is very difficult to see what you refuse to look at.
So, stage two was taking inventory of all my BS: When was I being a self-serving, spoiled, 5-year-old brat in my life? What false/limiting beliefs were I holding onto? Where was I at fault for placing blame externally for my lack of self-worth? How was I avoiding my part in my own maturity and happiness? Why do I continue to be dishonest with myself, and how does that effect my relationships?
To me, this wasn’t being hard on myself. It’s the hammer to the chains. I finally understood that my spiritual freedom was going to have to come from my willingness to take action for change in my life, from the inside out. Whatever I was doing had been counterproductive. That’s the nicest way I can put it. I had it all backwards.
If the motivation is there, the change will happen when action is taken. At the moment, I happen to be taking action by doing nothing. Meditation is my new wonder drug. It’s just medication spelled with a “T”. I had tried meditation before, but I didn’t get it. It took 40 or so days of meditating 1-2 hours a day for me to start to get it just recently. I don’t want to get too deep into it, but it has worked miracles for me. I have never felt a truer connection to my spirit than I do today. It is deep, it is ethereal, it is loving. I never would have been able to say that before, let alone have the notion, unless it was after making a hole-in-one, or an “unforgettable” night with so-and-so, or what's their name. Catch my drift? External, surface level happiness, lasts only as long as it takes to buy it, eat it, drink it, or fuck it. I never knew how to access happiness in any other way. Today it is my pleasure, to require no more pleasure than the ability to just be.
A couple years ago, my mom gave my Blanky back to me. It’s still soft. It still smells like I remember. It hasn’t changed, and I never forgot. If I had never let go originally, it would have ended up in the trash, and I wouldn’t have it on my lap today. I think that would have been a sadder story, don’t you? Happy 2022!!
