Perhaps I could have waited until cooler weather, when I could build a fire and toast marshmallows over the burning embers of our history, watching the wind carry the whisper-thin sheets of burning ash in a swirl before losing their flame and soundlessly hitting the ground. But s’mores blackened with the heat of unanswered questions and residual anger did not seem like the most appetizing of desserts. And when I found the box buried in the corner of my closet earlier this evening, all I knew was that I did not want to harbor its contents within my home and heart any longer.
So I shredded almost everything in it.
Sitting on the floor of my office with two large trash bags, I proceeded to tear out pages from journals and feed them into the cross-cutting open maw of my shredder. I rarely paused to read the letters, words, quotes… I didn’t want to get bogged down in the feelings, revelations and speculations that comprised a large part of this life several years ago.
I was surprised by my ability to resist the temptation to revisit the open mystery that was our relationship. Instead, I found myself enjoying the rhythm of feeding the paper, of tearing out staples and watching all of the drama, the hope, the heartache, the frustrations, the resentment and the excuses disappear with a grinding squeal that sounded out in different tones depending on the number of pages and types of paper. If I had some musical talent I’m sure I could have put together a breakup song worthy of YouTube.
Now the rather beautiful wooden box is empty… a physical situation that I’m somewhat glad to say does not mirror my own. I am not an empty vessel, waiting to be filled up by someone else in order to have a purpose. I have held onto a sense of ME, and while I remember our past I refuse to let it guide my responses in my future. After all, baggage is only a burden if you fail to put anything useful in it.
Tonight I did not erase the memory of you, but in shredding the contents of the box I agreed to not relive the things I wish I had done or said differently. To cease to ask the questions that apparently have no answers. But don’t for one moment think that my evening was spent wrapped up in a history that I wish I could rewrite or reignite…
I also cleaned my cat’s hairball stains out of the carpet.
That’s something I have never been able to do. The only time I purge myself of former flames is when the current one finds the stash and forces my hand. Good for you and your cross shredder. Oh, and good for your carpet too.
Beautifully beautifully written! I’m going to put a blurb on my blog directing interested parties here. Please let me know if you don’t want me to and I’ll take it off. ๐
The last line is the best. Really. ๐
I find it very helpful to get rid of reminders. I don’t generally keep anything from exes. I think I may have kept a ring or two. And with the most recent one, I will hang onto the cards until I feel like I’m ready to move on and then I’ll throw those away, too.
Intersting re-direction in that last line Jenn.
I see things like that (historical documents we’ll call them) as a part of your history, whether good or bad, and i don’t see them, fo me, as a place to look back and go “coulda shoulda woulda”. Experience makes us and breaks us, and it isn’t a bad thing to remember the past, especially the good parts, every once in a while, and not necessarily by reading, but just knowing they are there and you’ve gone past them.
Your writing the last couple entries has been quite eloquent, keep up the great stuff!!
C-
EXCELLENT! I am very proud of you. I have one more piece… it’s a check that my ex-husband had written me trying to be cute. It’s made out for “lots and lots of lovin”. I’ve held onto not for sentimental reasons. Nope, I can honestly say that. I’ve held onto it because I really want to take it into a bank, have them stamp it with their “NSF” (non-sufficient funds) stamp and send it back to his pathetic @ss!!! ๐ At some point, I really do need to get rid of it. I think it’s the last thing I have of him…