A closet is a repository for things— free storage space, if you will. It is home to clothes you haven’t worn for years, class notes from high school that might be useful someday, and a wide array of general items that you probably haven’t used in years and never got around to throwing out.
Recently, my mom became very interested in home-improvement and decided that our house needed renovating. She informed me that my closet could not be used as my personal dumpster anymore, so I had to clean it out—fast. I was not expecting my mom to make a grand walk-in closet as part of our home renovations, and I was not willing to pay for monthly storage space to hold on to debate trophies and oversized shirts in neon colours from summer camps. Logically, I thought to myself: some things needed to go.
In theory this sounds easy, but it really isn’t. Not for someone like me, who likes to hoard memories and get emotionally attached to items that remind me of my past, who I used to be and what I used to enjoy in the past. I assign significance and meaning to everything I own—which is usually accompanied by a feeling of intense nostalgia whenever I come across those things. However, now that I had no choice but to get rid of unnecessary items I have accumulated over the years, I have to decide which memories to hold on to and which to abandon.
Do I actually have to keep anything? Does anyone have to? I may never know. Oftentimes, I never actually bring my memory boxes and keepsakes out to reminisce over; I just like the idea of knowing it’s all there. Though most of these things may be meaningless, I can use them to bring back old memories of the past, and recall the type of person I used to be. I don’t need any of this per se, but it’s nice to have—there is comfort in knowing I came from somewhere and didn’t just imagine or make it all up.
Part of me wants to start fresh. I want to throw everything away and start all over again. The other half, though, is too afraid to do such a thing. Being “an out of sight, out of mind” person, if I don’t have any reminder or memory of something, I manage to forget about it like it never existed. When it comes to memories, I believe the brain leaks like a filter, and over time, changes the ones it keeps. What am I willing to forget?
For one, outfits from middle school that I will never wear again, old novels that I pretended to have read for school and didn’t, but kept them because I liked the look of the glossy covers and crisp pages, and notes and photos from people who aren’t my friends anymore. The more things I put in my “to throw away” pile, the easier it becomes. It’s cleansing, therapeutic, almost, to see my past life flash before my eyes that I can leave behind—in the past, where it belongs.
Of course, it can be fun and interesting to watch yourself evolve over the years, become a new person; look back on where you came from and make yourself feel something through random items you used to own. On the other hand, however, everything you essentially need to remember—everything that truly changed and impacted you, will always be in your head. We don’t necessarily remember things and people who changed us so much as feel their effects, continually. We don’t need things to remind us of who and what we were—who we are now is a great enough reminder.
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