For the most part this has been great, I feel like I am more free. Living with less just leaves more room for living. However, I was not prepared for the painful part of downsizing: letting go.
This brings us to the first part of my story: Who I used to be?
This is a pretty good picture of who I used to be. I played 3 years of post-secondary basketball, I spent between 30-50 hours in the gym a week. I ran wind sprints with a 30 pound weighted vest, I lifted weights. I read, watched, talked, wrote and dreamed about basketball. A big part of that dream came true in the summer of 2013 when I moved up from the college level to play university ball.
I don't play anymore, I stepped away from the game in July. At first it didn't feel real, then all at once it felt like I had decided to rip my left arm off.
I felt like an entirely different person, and I spent a great deal of my time that summer waiting for the old me to come back. But the truth is, that person didn't come back and isn't going to. I have rebuilt myself and while I find that I am very different on the other side of my experience, I don't feel like this version of me is any better or worse, just new.
At least that's how I felt before I started downsizing. I felt my old shadow looking over my shoulder as I began sorting my clothes and books. Part of me felt really good, some of my gear has only been worn a couple times so they'd make great hand-me-downs/donations and I was finally freeing myself from the clutter I had been content to cart from place to place (I'm currently on my third move in 3 years with the possibility of a fourth in the near future).
A very small and petty part of me wanted to douse it all in gasoline and watch it burn. That way no one could ever get hurt the way I was hurt. No one would ever dream big dreams just to watch them wither away. But basketball is a game and it doesn't have the power to do any of those things. Basketball didn't hurt me, people hurt me. Basketball didn't kill my dreams, my dreams changed. And all those books and jerseys and shoes, those material items just helped me be the best I could be while I still wanted to be that person.
A very big part of me felt a deep sense of loss, not because the things I was getting rid of meant anything to me but because I thought they always would. Old me wanted to feel that connection to the game but, the old me is just a shadow that doesn't really exist anymore. Getting rid of this stuff is accepting the fact that the old me really is in the past.
But I'm happy, happier than I've been in over a year. I'm just as proud of who I am now. I have just as much passion for the things I love, I just love different things. I haven't lost all that I was.
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| This isn't even all of it. |
This is a pretty good picture of who I used to be. I played 3 years of post-secondary basketball, I spent between 30-50 hours in the gym a week. I ran wind sprints with a 30 pound weighted vest, I lifted weights. I read, watched, talked, wrote and dreamed about basketball. A big part of that dream came true in the summer of 2013 when I moved up from the college level to play university ball.
I don't play anymore, I stepped away from the game in July. At first it didn't feel real, then all at once it felt like I had decided to rip my left arm off.
I felt like an entirely different person, and I spent a great deal of my time that summer waiting for the old me to come back. But the truth is, that person didn't come back and isn't going to. I have rebuilt myself and while I find that I am very different on the other side of my experience, I don't feel like this version of me is any better or worse, just new.
At least that's how I felt before I started downsizing. I felt my old shadow looking over my shoulder as I began sorting my clothes and books. Part of me felt really good, some of my gear has only been worn a couple times so they'd make great hand-me-downs/donations and I was finally freeing myself from the clutter I had been content to cart from place to place (I'm currently on my third move in 3 years with the possibility of a fourth in the near future).
A very small and petty part of me wanted to douse it all in gasoline and watch it burn. That way no one could ever get hurt the way I was hurt. No one would ever dream big dreams just to watch them wither away. But basketball is a game and it doesn't have the power to do any of those things. Basketball didn't hurt me, people hurt me. Basketball didn't kill my dreams, my dreams changed. And all those books and jerseys and shoes, those material items just helped me be the best I could be while I still wanted to be that person.
A very big part of me felt a deep sense of loss, not because the things I was getting rid of meant anything to me but because I thought they always would. Old me wanted to feel that connection to the game but, the old me is just a shadow that doesn't really exist anymore. Getting rid of this stuff is accepting the fact that the old me really is in the past.
But I'm happy, happier than I've been in over a year. I'm just as proud of who I am now. I have just as much passion for the things I love, I just love different things. I haven't lost all that I was.
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| I lost a lot of this person |
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| But I kept the best parts |
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