Holding onto something can be hard, but knowing when to let go is even harder.
When I first moved to Columbia, Missouri for my freshman year of college, I packed everything I owned.
And boy oh boy, do I mean everything.
I knew I’d be staying in Missouri for the next four years. Originating from Texas, I had lofty aspirations of getting my in-state tuition (achieved), and I guess a part of me knew that my definition of home would change somewhere along the line. I stayed in Missouri that summer, then the next, then I studied abroad, and now here I am, counting down the days to my graduation.
Time really does fly. Weird.
Going through my semi-annual closet cleanout — I’m a self-described reformed shopaholic — I stumbled across a jewelry box that I’d forgotten I had. Truthfully, I hadn’t opened the thing in years; it’s a wonder I still had the key lying around.
Inside was a treasure trove, not just in content but also in essence. Of course there was jewelry, but nestled deep within the tangles of silver and gold was something more: memories.
Handmade bracelets from friends long gone but still close in my heart. A color changing mood ring I’d begged my parents for during a family trip to Florida in my youth. A sweet note written by an old high school flame. A few rocks left over from my short-lived crystal-girlie phase. The set of earrings one of my best friends gifted me for my 17th birthday that I thought I’d lost to the twists and turns of time.
Bits and pieces of the person that I once was and never will be again. Also weird.
Naturally, I called my sister to discuss my findings. Though intrigued, she was still less than enthused to hear about the sheer number of things that I’d unconsciously held onto.
“Girl, why the f*ck do you still have all of this?”
If I’m being honest, I didn’t have a solid answer.
Holding on
Mary Shelley preserved her late husband Percy’s heart wrapped in a piece of his poetry. She also kept locks of hair from her children, Clara and William, all stored in her desk drawer.
When Charles Dickens’s beloved cat, Bob, died in 1862, he had Bob’s paw preserved and attached to a letter opener as a way to remember him, too.
I’d like to think that I’m a sentimental person. I may not be as dramatic as a Victorian novelist, but I am, in the end, just a girl. With that in mind, collecting items for the sake of memory didn’t start with me — nor did it start with Shelley or Dickens.
Dante Alighieri’s “Inferno” includes a section on hoarders and wasters — also known as the Avaricious and the Prodigal. Locked in an eternal struggle, one side clings desperately to their possessions while the other recklessly squanders them. Written in the early 1300s, English major and medieval studies minor Teanna Moeller cited “Inferno” as one of the earliest literary explorations of the concept of hoarding.
Additionally, Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II (1552–1612) was often considered a hoarder, but thanks to his royal status, his vast collections were more frequently described as an “insatiable appetite for art,” Moeller said.
“Studying medieval perspectives, you really begin to understand the mindset people have behind their reasonings for holding onto specific items,” Moeller said. “Understandably so, humans have not changed much in terms of the feeling of sentiment, it just differs on why you are sentimental.”
For Moeller, the value of an object lies in the intention behind it. She gave the example of her charm necklace, which holds about 20 charms and counting, each piece representing an important event or person in her life.
“The idea that you can ‘capture’ memories into one object is so beautiful to me,” she said.
Though she considered herself a conscious trend-follower in middle and high school, Moeller acknowledges that the pressures of growing up and wanting to fit in played a big role in determining her possessions. Now, after years of college and the independence that comes with it, she finds that her belongings feel more personal; more like hers.
“I would absolutely say that due to the type of literature I study as well as the kinds of books I read, my idea of sentimentality has evolved to be more centered around mental (and) emotional attachment as opposed to physical attachment,” Moeller said.
And you know what? I agree.
When you do choose to hold onto something, more likely than not, there is something behind it. A motive, perhaps. A narrative, if you will.
No matter the extent to which those feelings are felt — sometimes too great, sometimes not at all — those associated items are still subject to being stowed away and forgotten about.
Guilty.
I don’t think this discredits the memory, per se; in a way, those will always be there. However, having something stowed away for so long might mean that something has shifted. Maybe, just maybe, something is different now.
Maybe, just maybe, with time, feelings change.
Or maybe, just maybe, you do, too.
Letting go
While I was rifling through my lost treasures, I stumbled across something else that I hadn’t seen in a while: my mother’s high school class ring.
It’s a beautiful ring, a simple gold band with an engraved emerald. I’d “borrowed” it my junior year of high school. I suppose it was never returned.
Oops.
After I hopped off the phone with my sister, I called my mother to give her the news. She laughed. Ever the inquisitive journalist that I am, I asked why.
Her answer surprised me: “It was important to me in high school. I mean, it was high school. Rings were big back in the day, everyone got one, and it just symbolized that community. But, you know, as I got older, I didn’t really need that anymore. I keep in touch with my high school friends that I want to keep in touch with; I don’t need a ring to remind me of that.”
My mother emphasized that, though she did appreciate the ring (and many other expensive pieces of jewelry that she’d accumulated over the years) at one point, as time went by, her values changed. Now, she places more value on other things, like the handmade jewelry that my siblings and I crafted for her in our youths.
“I don’t want (the ring) back,” she said, with another giggle. “Plus, it’s not my style anymore.”
According to my mother, you’ll know when to get rid of something when the following is true: it doesn’t bring you joy, it doesn’t serve a purpose in your life, it’s taking up space that’s not necessary anymore, or it’s causing you emotional trauma or distress.
This was a sentiment echoed by Moeller.
When asked when she thought it was time to let go of something, Moeller said the following: “When it adds no emotional or sentimental value to my life. Sometimes things don’t have to be remembered, and that’s okay, because you enjoyed it when it did matter.”
Holding onto something can be hard, but knowing when to let go is even harder.
To be honest, I’m not sure if you ever really, truly know when the time is right. The older I get, the more I feel that it doesn’t have to be.
Just because you’re getting rid of something, doesn’t mean you’re parting with the memory. And, even if you are, that’s okay; if it was so forgettable, if you locked it away in a box and (very nearly) threw away the key, perhaps you don’t need a reminder in the first place.
Letting go can be a reminder that your identity is shaped by experiences, not objects. What once felt significant may no longer align with you in the same way, and that’s normal — who you are is not measured by what you own!
Cherish the best, release the rest!