Stuff is never just stuff.  Stuff is, as my brother put it, ideas.  Every item I own is an idea I've had, about who I am or want to be, what I want to do, what I value, fear, or need.  No wonder I've found that getting rid of items clears my head marvelously!  My room is slowly but surely becoming an oasis of Karen in a world of not-Karen, which is a relief.  My true desires and priorities are coming into focus, and my to-do list is shorter and more imperative.  I hope to have this process done by the end of the year so I can start 2019 with a clean slate! 

Today I'll post about two harder, sewing-related purges: my pattern collection and my historical costumes. 

. . . at least be purgative! 

You may recall my sew-from-stash resolution at the beginning of this year.  You may also recall that I did a bit of stash busting since then, but not early as much as I wanted.  And all year I've held off on buying new fabrics (with one exception) because I still had stash to bust!  Then, midway through October, my pile of fabric (as well as mental clutter, disorganization, and personal stuff) reached paralyzing point: I could neither move forward nor back until I cleared something out.  I felt overwhelmed by my to-do list, the guilt-trips attached to my things, a feeling of paralysis and creative inertia, et cetera. 

Talking with a counselor helped bring me to this point.  Until I started looking at and naming my emotions instead of avoiding them, I didn't realize how much I was motivated by guilt, and usually needless guilt.  (This isn't fabric-related... the fabric was just a symptom.)  Even my perfectionism breeds guilt: when my imagined standard is perfection, then I can hardly start working, and un-finished projects lie around the place, reminding me of "failure".  Thankfully, I have wonderful friends who mustered to support me with prayer, phone calls, and ideas.

My old lunch bag made of oilcloth (a kind of lightweight vinyl) served me well for about a year, but even good things must come to an end!  In this case, oil from my hands disintegrated the vinyl grips, while occasional heavy lunches took out the bottom corners.  So I came home from work one day, shook my head, and pulled it apart to make a new one!