It is official! I own way too many clothes. No, that is not a surprise or a very deep revelation but unlike years past as I go through the ritual of changing out the winter for spring and summer, the thought of too much has gone much deeper than the usual thought and the accompanying response of yea, so what are you going to do about it? With that exercise out of the way I go about folding and hanging and changing...yes, even some things going to the to be donated pile. Here in North Carolina where we may or may not see snow this weekend and it is April, I don't have the ready uniform for cold months like I do for warm, then hot months in Houston which averages out about nine months of the year...if we are lucky and get a winter shot of cold temps. I am pulling out the linen, running it through the steam setting on the dryer to get the worst wrinkles removed and then hanging it in the closet. Last night I thought I had lost my typical uniform of summer, all my Flax long pants, In the midst of the desperate search for my go to uniform, something so small, like a pin head or even smaller, pricked my finger without me so much as knowing it happened until I saw the fountain filled with blood...no it was just the fountain of blood ever so delicately spewing forth with wild abandon and I was in the twin bedroom which boasts of a main color, white with red and pink accents. Only my blood didn't need to be a part of the decor. Since I am on blood thinners and have to watch for this kind of occurrence I know now that putting a band-aid on the spot will do nothing except saturate the band-aid...so I know I need to put pressure on the spot for what seems a really, really long time. I was talking with Roy while applying the pressure and he reminds me I need to be careful and I am thinking, but not saying back to him...uh yes, I am but this was just like my skin decided to part in just an itty bitty place on my finger. So after forty five minutes of pressure it was finally safe to put on the band-aid. I was able to think clearly after taking care of that situation and next thing you know, I have found those pairs of linen pants hanging in another closet in the front bedroom.
Really, it is stupid how many pairs of jeans and capris I own. But I know where this dare I call it hording began... When I was in elementary school something changed between me and my father and he began to treat me like he had been treated growing up. Because he felt the need to control everything...he couldn't trust my mother to help me pick out school clothes, so he took me. Yes, it was as fun as it sounds. I remember looking at the round racks of back to school clothes in Penney's. Girls weren't allowed to wear pants to school way back then, so the choice was dresses and skirts. I was looking at the clothes and my dad comes over to me and says the saleslady just told me that you aren't cute enough to shop from this rounder. We need to go over to sales rack because that is where ugly little girls get their clothes. I was mortified, although I didn't know that word when I was in the first grade but that news hurt and stung me to the heart. He got close to my face and spewed his cigarette breath in my face saying, you better not cry or shed tears because if you do...we will leave and no new clothes for you to go back to school. I think I can thank my father for my high pain threshold because I had lots of training to perfect it. Then sometime in the school year I would cry to my mom that I was being made fun of at school because of my clothes. My mom would get mad that this was happening but there was nothing she could do about it. If she sided with me on anything, it would be a high price to pay with my dad who thought she always took my brothers or my side. The whole clothes thing was a continuous battle even as I got older and tried to buy my own clothes from my and isn't this ironic, my paycheck from working at Penney's while in high school. I loved lay-a -way. I knew when I was older I would never put myself in that clothes situation again and thus began my endless years of being a clothes horse.
Truthfully, I do not think about that whole thing very much anymore, hardly ever. It is just a part of my story. In fact I would say after spending time in therapy, working through issues and forgiving my father for the oh so many things that should have never happened, so now I can walk freely, with good boundaries and not be held hostage or controlled, the Lord brought this thought to me today as I have been working and sorting...He said, you let all that go emotionally, don't you think it is about time for you to break free and practice for what you fought hard to be free of and believed Me to take care of? Boom! I had to sit down. He was right, especially now when I get to pretty much wear whatever because the who are you wearing and the competition one feels to keep up with trends in Houston are not here. Well I am sure they are in Asheville or Hendersonville but out here in the country, we dress nice and look good but that isn't the emphasis.
I wrote the words above a week ago today. I knew I needed time before pushing on the post button. On cue the tufted titmouse, sparrow (various types) and a goldfinch landed on the branches of our red bud tree out back which makes me think I should give Matthew 6 another reading. Quit worrying and seek the kingdom.
Last night Bill and Vivian met me at Turkey Creek Cafe for dinner. Roy had mentioned earlier in the day he had picked up a burger at our favorite dive in Old Katy. That got me thinking about ordering a hamburger instead of the fish or the steak dinner. We met early, 5:00, and the place was beginning to fill up with hungry customers. In that cafe is meshed all the people that make up our area; old timers, people who grew up here, as well as generations of family before them, newcomers (more than just me), and people just getting off work. People are friendly here and we talk to one another across the tables just recognizing each other but not knowing each other's names.
With a renewed vigor I have tackled the preparation of letting go some of this stuff I have carried around on a couple of moves. So now I have bags and the like to put these fine frocks in and hope others can use or enjoy them.
The other disclaimer I need to add and I usually add this on most posts when I go back to childhood. There was a day I told these things to effect change or have someone feel sorry for me. Then it got to when I told childhood stories I was trying to figure out the why and the what. Finally came the day when I tell these stories to help or encourage someone who has a past like mine or is currently dealing with a controller and manipulator. There is hope and there is victory. It doesn't happen all at once but each good decision you make or each time you give this person to God or have to begin at square one, it comes. I can look now and see where God had people placed in my life for such a time as ______________ . He never failed. He was always there.
It is supposed to be warm tomorrow so I do believe I will be able to put together some kind of outfit from my summer uniform, linen. And yes, I have added some linen pieces to the pile of clothes that need to leave the building.