packing up ghosts

So I'm packing up all of my "stuff", literally, as my apartment-mate and I get ready for new cork floors to be installed this week, and I find that as I pack up my physical stuff, I can't help but find myself packing-up emotional "stuff" as well. I've been trying to do a bit of purging while I pack, and inevitably I find myself coming across bits of flotsam and jetsam that are haunted with the ghosts of past friends and lovers, bits that drag old memories out of the dusty corners of my mind. Some of the memories are great and fun to re-visit. Others are heart-wrenchingly painful.

I laughed hysterically at pictures of our grade 4 trip to Victoria, and nearly cried when I came across a letter from an old flame. I kept my old prayer journal from college, and tossed a postcard from someone I'm still trying to forget. I filed away old bank statements and tucked into a drawer a pile of stones whose significance I've forgotten but whose beauty made a convincing petition for their keeping.

I'm a highly reflective person, and so I'm a sentimental sucker for shuffling through the bits and pieces of my past, both the literal and figurative bits. The ghosts of the past never quite completely disappear, and I find myself startled by how the ghost that haunts some little item can assail me so swiftly and so effectively that I can barely stay standing, barely hold back the tears.

The shocking thing is how pleasurable the overall purging process has been. Here I sit in a nearly empty room, excited about the chance to re-arrange my furniture, shocked at how much stuff I own, and yet also unable to part with even some of the most painful stuff. Hopefully as I unpack I'll have the time and emotional energy to let go of some of the painful pieces and both confront and exorcise some of the ghosts. I also hope I have the time and energy to properly put away the pleasurable pieces where they can provide me with joy.