The Voices in my Head

I know I'm not the only one who has a committee of critics in her head.  My decision to move across country AND radically simplify my life has done nothing to quiet their voice.  If anything, they're chiming in more often trying to convince me that I'm too old, not talented enough, too fat, don't have enough money or the right car and that I'm crazy to think I'll make it on my own.  They're even telling me right now that nobody wants to hear what I have to say about this process or anything else.

Fortunately, I've learned how to quiet these voices over the years and have come to understand that it's just fear trying to run the show.  Years ago, my friend from Santa Fe introduced me to Louise Hay's little blue book, "You Can Heal Your Body" during one of my visits and the affirmations in that book have become one of my most effective tools for changing my inner critics into personal cheerleaders.  I also learned to reason things out with someone else, someone outside my own head that is.  And that simple act has helped me live a life full of possibilities instead of a life based on fear.

I've been surprised though by some of the negative thoughts that have come up since I started simplifying.  I discovered that I've been subconsciously defining myself by some of my things.  Now I begin to wonder who I really am without these things.  Do I become "less than" with less stuff? 

Perhaps it's simply time to redefine who I am, and letting go of most of my belongings gives me space to figure that out.  This is a voluntary process after all. I don't have to get rid of everything to make this move.  I have plenty of friends who have the space for me to store it all until I get settled in Santa Fe.  One friend even asked why I was doing this, wondering if it was some sort of science experiment.  The answer is yes, of course.  I am intrigued by the idea of becoming a minimalist (at least for a while) and clearing away the old to make room for a new sort of new.  

One of the items I am definitely keeping is my Dad's childhood rocking chair.  That's him  pictured below in 1941 and my son at nearly the same age in 1993.  I also rocked in it as a child and hope to see my grandchildren rocking in it one day.  But, as much as I love my some of our other family heirlooms, like my Grandmother's steamer trunk and console radio, I am willing to let them go today.  That doesn't mean I'm letting go of my memories of her or dishonoring her memory in any way.  It's just about peeling back another layer of this onion and learning to be comfortable in my own skin without all the extra layers of stuff surrounding me.