A Cariad Life

One week from today, Darrell and I will be on a one-way Iceland Air flight to Raleigh, NC. He and I will each be loaded down with two giant suitcases, as well as a rolling carry-on and shoulder bag/backpack containing all of our remaining shoes, clothes, toiletries, and a few French souvenirs. (If I never have to pack everything I own into rolling suitcases again, it won’t be too soon.)

Although we did take some of our summer clothes with us to Washington when we were there for the wedding and then had them shipped to my mom’s house in two boxes, we are actually returning to the US with less things than we came to France with. Since last year, when we decided to sell our house in Bainbridge Island, I have gradually edited my belongings–shoes, clothes, coats, furniture, books, etc.–over and over from my life. During each move, I’ve asked myself, “do I need this? is it worth carrying across an ocean? will I miss it if it gone?” and most importantly, “does it contribute to the quality of my life?” and “what am I needlessly keeping because I think it is part of my identity?”

I’m going to go a bit deep here and share something many of you may not have known (though I am sure some may have suspected) about this editing process…here goes vulnerability; I hope it helps…

Just this week, I edited some things that were very much a part of an identity I once had–one dress in particular was really hard to let go of. It was bright coral, on the short side (I would wear with tights and my tall boots), and it was a size 0. I don’t tell you that to brag–quite the opposite. There was a point in my life when we lived in WA and before we went on this epic adventure where I got a bit (ok… a lot) obsessive about the things I could control, specifically my weight. I was experiencing things at work that I couldn’t control, so obsessing about my weight and what I ate was my way of coping. Many days I was only eating a 1000 calories a day, even counting the number of blueberries I would eat with my yogurt for lunch. Wearing that dress was my indication that “I made it;” I was, I thought, successful and in control. I was also unhappy, constantly worried about gaining the weight back, (and hungry!) Through various seasons over the years, I could fit into that dress and then I couldn’t–it continued to be a barometer in my head of the “perfect, ideal” size, body, and image–in my more stressful times of life I would get back into it, feeding my obsession for perfection.

Before we left for France, the dress fit, but not well, so why did I carry that dress with me all the way to France? I don’t think it was because I thought I would wear it (maybe on a fancy night out if I didn’t eat for a week), but that somewhere I thought it was still me or the me I was supposed to be. What I realized though is that is not a “me” I want anymore–yes, I want to be fit and eat well, but that dress makes me think of deprivation and the sadness of trying to control something with unhealthy obsession. We all cope in different ways, some of them destructive and are shamed for it and some in equally destructive ways that are sadly praised in our society. Regardless, this journey of coming to France has helped me to look at those coping mechanisms and think about what I want to edit from my life–living life like that no longer serves me. Further, what do I just need to face head-on without resorting to destructive coping mechanisms?

When a movie is made, the director shoots way more scenes than will ever make it in the movie. There are subplots, even characters, whose scenes are cut from the movie and end up on the cutting room floor. The director works with the editor to cut and cut anything that does not support the overall theme of the movie. All distractions…all things that are superfluous are cut to serve that purpose. I am still doing that cutting…those material items that were just not loved that much were the first to go. Now the cuts are a bit deeper and more meaningful–now I am asking myself the hard questions about the things that I once held dear, and asking myself if I still want those things or am I willing to let them go for something better.

There is more to come and I know the process isn’t over with just material items, there are habits and ways of doing life that I need to re-examine. All of it is a journey, but I feel lighter and it has nothing to do with my weight or just owning less stuff–it’s a leaner mindset.