Write2Unpack

I love Hoarders. Not the people, although I do love some people who are hoarders, but the A&E Show “Hoarders.” This is a show about people so tortured and afraid to let go of even the smallest item that they’ve literally “buried” themselves alive in their own homes. I watch this show and it inspires me to go through my house and consider whether or not I need every treasure. Turns out – I do not.

“Outer order contributes to inner calm.”

With so much stress in the world around us today the importance of a clutter-free space is more important than ever. In the world of Feng Shui, low energy of clutter is detrimental to the bright, refreshing, uplifting energy that we all seek. Better productivity, more creativity, calmer and clearer thinking is definitely worth taking a look at your home.

Experts say you should first divide your clutter into 3 piles:

1.  Things to donate. Hey, tax deductions are a good thing. You get “paid” for items you don’t need or never use, and someone else will buy them and put them to good use. It’s win-win.

2.  Things to keep. Mementos, books that you love, sentimental treasures and things you really just can’t part with. I was cleaning out my basement and found a box full of old vinyl records.  A friend suggested searching on Pinterest for repurposing old records, I did, and am amazed at the creativity of others and totally plan on making super-cool gifts out of my old memories. (Seriously, go to Pinterest and search “repurposing vinyl records.” You can find anything on Pinterest).

3.  Things to throw away. Is it broken? Have you kept that broken exhaust fan motor because you’re going to fix it “someday?” Throw it out. It doesn’t serve you. Those clothes you’re going to lose the weight and fit into? Throw them out. When you do lose the weight celebrate and buy yourself updated clothes!
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Clearing the clutter isn’t just for your house, or that back room. Clearing away clutter is important in your life too. Are you happy in your job? If you’re unhappy doing what you do then maybe it’s time to make a change. I’m not talking about quitting your job today and telling your boss “Melissa said I am supposed to do this!” I’m talking about taking some steps, or even just one step, toward what you really do want to do. What is it that drives you? Move toward that.

Are your relationships serving you? This year, as we move into Month #2 take a look at your life and assess your relationships. Are you in loving, compassionate, and supportive relationships? Do you spend time with people who lift you up and inspire you, or do you get sucked into those who thrive on drama and discord? Make a conscious choice to be a better person, to shed unwanted hate, and surround yourself with those who motivate and encourage you.

Tidying up your house (and life) is a good thing and an important thing. By getting rid of what doesn’t serve you, you make room for what does.  You’ll be amazed at how much better you feel just clearing away the clutter.

I love input, so please feel free to leave me a comment below, find me on Facebook (Melissa Gale), or send me an e-mail with your thoughts (write2unpack@gmail.com). Oh, and sign up to follow me. It’s quick, easy, and you won’t miss a post!

“Why does everyone want to glamorize the dead?” This is the question that has been swirling in my brain for the last week. For those of you who didn’t catch last week’s post, my niece was horribly burned in a coffee stand fire and passed away on Monday, January 11.  There has been a flood of support for her family and her two daughters (shameless GoFundMe link), which is wonderful and certainly needed. All beauty and grief aside, what kept poking at me was the fact all media/social media only talked about how wonderful and good she was (she was a good and wonderful person), but there was also more to her. We’re not perfect people – we’re flawed, and so this week’s blog post took form.

When someone passes I hear phrases like “devoted wife,” “dedicated father,” or “loving mother.” While these things may be true, I’d wager those people were more than just those generic labels.  So do we use them because we only want to remember only the good stuff?  Why is that? Aren’t they made up of good and bad, just like us? I think our flaws are as important to remember as our strengths.

I have many flaws – one of them is an irrational fear of spiders (Yes, I know I’m bigger. Yes, I know you can just squish them… I said it was irrational).  I actually dated a guy for a week before I found out he was just as scared of spiders as I was… and that’s the reason we only dated for a week. But I choose to see this irrational fear not only as a weakness of mine, but also as an opportunity for someone (my hero) to save my life from that-which-must-never-touch-me, and for me to express gratitude and appreciation. Maybe we should look at our flaws as a means to attract the right people, rather than looking at them as a failing or a defect of some sort.

What if our imperfections are there to let our good parts be good and allow others to show their kindness and compassion? Have you seen the Disney Pixar movie Inside Out? It’s about the parts of us (Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust) and how they all work together inside us to make us who we are and, as it turns out…

*SPOILER ALERT*

Joy kept trying to get rid of Sadness but finally realized that Sadness was how others realized that (her person) Riley needed help, and that allowed others to show her love, and kindness, and compassion.

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I know I’m not perfect, and I appreciate it when I’m treated with kindness anyway. I try to do the same for everyone I meet: for my clients, the cashier who’s obviously having “one of those days,” or the driver who insists on going 5 miles under the speed limit in the fast lane. I invite you to do the same. This next week make a conscious decision to pause and understand that the freakin’ jerk who just cut you off is flawed, and maybe he made a mistake, and maybe that’s ok. I mean after all, you have flaws too, and maybe your flaws are there to bring the right people (your hero) to you.

I love input, so please feel free to leave me a comment below,  find me on Facebook (Melissa Gale), or send me an e-mail with your thoughts (write2unpack@gmail.com). Oh, and sign up to follow me. It’s quick, easy, and you won’t miss a post!

This week took a decidedly unexpected turn for me. I write to you from Seattle, in the house of my brother-in-law, consoling him any way I can for the loss of his daughter. More  on that later.

I called upon my writer friends for some help putting out my weekly blog post, and my friend Orin (the prince) came through for me. Please enjoy his writings and offer him your support at thewritespirit.com

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Have you heard of the real Super Girl living in the town of George, Washington? Town might be too ambitious of a name, although their website declares them the City of George, Washington, their top stories include two headlines about a new well and a sidewalk – important issues for the 501 residents. The town was started by a man named Brown and its streets are named after cherries. Somewhere in this Americana rural charm lives Super Girl. She doesn’t fly, at least not yet, she either lost her cape or has yet to find it under a tree at Christmas. The world may never know her, hidden as she where most cars whiz by at 75 miles an hour, but I do. I know Super Girl.

She ripped her hand open carrying a box of books through a metal door frame built before modern safety codes. She sat thru music, library, and a math lesson before she told me, her teacher, that she needed to talk about something. I forgot, and she did not complain. She reminded me before recess with tears in her eyes and she showed me her hand. Pink and red glared from her gashed brown skin. It was a nasty cut, a true wound. That was December of last year.

Today, she was reading to me and I noticed her hand.

“What happened there?”

“You know.” She replied.

“I remember you told me, but I forgot.” I lied.

Her hand had a pale series of scars running from the knuckle of her index finger down towards her wrist. It looked like old warts or a childhood mishap with some nasty chemical. I felt bad for the pain that must have caused her, and the embarrassment that I didn’t remember those scars before.

“You know,” she told me again. “I hurt my hand going to library.” She looked at me like I was her grandfather at a mental health clinic.

I didn’t know what to say, so I told her the truth.

“You were so brave that day.” I said. She looked embarrassed. Super heroes don’t like the attention. Like the supporting actor in a Hollywood summer flick I asked, “Are you a super hero?”

She smiled, dipped her chin, and shook her head ‘No’, her black braids moving gently against her coat.

I remembered when I I asked her what she wanted for Christmas. She wouldn’t answer, so I asked again. “She looked at me in her strong, shy way and said, “Nothing.” OK. I thought, no need to press, but I was curious. Later, as chance and Hollywood superhero scripts would have it, I was walking down the hall with her.
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“Come on.” I said. “You must want something for Christmas.”

She looked at me with her strong-but-I-am-about-to-cry eyes and said, “I would really like to talk to my grandparents in Mexico. They are my dad’s parents. I have never met them I would really like to talk to them on the phone.”

Not knowing what to say, and being generally stupid I said, “Well, maybe Santa will be able to bring you something nice.” It was a running commentary in my room as “Santa” was going to bring them something during lunch on the last day of school before Christmas break. Being smart, my whole class knew it was me.

“Are you going to call my grandparents?” she asked with a glint of hope.

I am no superhero. “No.” I said. We walked in silence.

She bought a Christmas ornament with school tickets that she earned.

“Look at what I bought today,” she said as she came in the room after recess. “An ornament!”

“Wow! Give that to your mom for your Christmas tree.”

“Our house is too small for a tree, but one day we will have our own house. My mom says when that happens we will have our own tree and it will be big!”  Super Girl is always optimistic, and that is why she has yet to find her cape.

The girls come in from recess and their hands are freezing from playing in the cold. Iceberg, Antarctic, dying from hypothermia after the Titanic sunk kind of cold.  They rush to me with smiles showing off how cold their hands are, challenging the other girls to have colder hands then they have. I am the judge. They touch my forehead and cheeks, and I realize I have a room full of Super Girls.

I tell them each how brave they are, and teach them how to warm their hands. It’s a daily ritual, so they have heard it all before, but it doesn’t matter. That is how superhero scripts go.

I know Super Girl. Scars tell of healed but remembered wounds. Cold hands tell of adventures survived. Some things are hidden, and some things are seen.

There is a hero in George, Washington, population 501. I think, though, that there are heroes disguised as boys and girls in many places. Hidden, shy, and wonderful. Seek them out. Your life will be changed forever.