By: Jana Greene

So, yesterday I cleaned out my chest of drawers, which would not typically be a blog-worthy subject – especially for a brand new blog. Way to start things off, right? But the process led to some pretty profound “brain droppings” (as the late, great George Carlin would say) that, in turn, led to a little epiphany.

I’m not a huge fan of little epiphanies. I like BIG epiphanies (or AHA! moments.) I am very big into ALL or NOTHING, and it seems like it would be a time-saver for God to just lay it on me all at once. Like, BRING IT, PAPA! This self-awareness thing is taking too damn long. I really want to have my shit together, and it seem that doling out life lessons piecemeal is inefficient. But I don’t run the universe, so I really don’t have a say.

Anyway, I dumped all of my clothes on the floor. I’m not a tidy person, so my clothes are basically willy-nilly in my drawers, just as they are on the floor. PJs with shorts, socks with shirts. Anything goes, really. No matter how good my intentions are about keeping the clothes in my drawers neatly folded, they will be balled up and in disarray before I finish the next load of laundry.

The crappy part of this process is that I inevitably have to try on some of the clothes because I know I’ve gained a fair amount of weight. This can be emotionally taxing, but for me, it is physically taxing as well. My connective tissue condition does not care for the pulling and stretching that trying on clothes entails. It doesn’t take long to realize I will have a “discard pile” within minutes of the effort.

And discard piles are kind of depressing. Here you are doing something productive, yet you end up with a dejected pile of clothes that no longer work for you. Some of the clothes, you really love. But they are mostly just taking up room in your dresser, in a ball at the bottom of the drawer that feels like it’s mocking you every time you open it to change underwear.

By the time I was finished, my discard pile was bigger than my “keep” pile. Some items had little holes in them from he claws of a Certain Cat who Shall Remain Un-named (Hazel.) Others are way too small; I mean like ridiculously small. Others are lonely, single socks who have lost a mate, and T-shirts that have been washed so many times, they are a wisp of their former selves.

I gathered up all the stuff that didn’t make the cut, and set it aside.

Fast-forward to this morning. I’m in the shower, washing my hair. Now, washing my hair is a big to-do, because its very thick and long, and if I don’t dry and straighten it, I am the proud owner of an Irish fro. My janky shoulder joints absolutely resent this process, but lo … it has to be done, and regularly. During the process today, I thought about having my hair cut for the summer, but followed that thought with this one: But I like it long.

Yeah, but remember what you were taught? Thought I. Women over 40 shouldn’t have long hair. It’s “trashy.”

Whoa! What in the early childhood development, ever-loving crease in my gray matter did THAT crawl out of? Always, in the back of my mind, is this voice: You shouldn’t wear / do / have THAT.

We are taught this in a million different ways. From magazines whose covers are emblazoned with the faces of perfectly photo-shopped models, and teasers such as “Love Yourself the Way you Are!” and “How to lose 20 Pounds Quick,” and “Death by Chocolate Recipe, page 37!”

There are sneaky, condescending thoughts big and small. From “Redheads can’t wear pink,” to “I’m not good enough and I never will be, and this pile of rejected clothing on the floor proves it.” My Inner Brat reminds me constantly that I am a disappointment to myself. The Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome makes doing the things I want to do difficult. The pattern of thoughts I’ve adopted all my life assures me that I fall short in every area.

But you see….

My Inner Brat needs to go in The Discard Pile.

I’m not going to pretend that I know how to change thought patterns. I don’t. I’m currently in therapy, and my therapist is both kind and gentle, and badass as can be. She GETS it. So, I’m learning.

When we are cleaning house, there will always be things to discard. Sometimes it doesn’t matter why it needs to go in the pile. Sometimes, it just does. All the overthinking in the world will not make sense of it. You just know it needs to GO.

So today, I’m instigating a little mind game with myself. It is called simply “Discard Pile.” When I was blow-drying my fro, and had the intrusive thought of “you’re too old to have long hair,” I just said out loud, “DISCARD PILE.” (And yes, I occasionally talk to myself … so I may as well say edifying things, as well as all the put-downs I have so mastered. I’m on a journey to let them GO.)

Holding every thought captive is HARD, ya’ll. Half of the battle is in identifying those thoughts as pile-worthy. You don’t have to accept the crap you have heard all your life, or told yourself. Isn’t that liberating? As my Therapist is teaching me, CATCH that thought before you insult yourself with it. Throw it in the pile if it doesn’t serve you or fit anymore.

The more negativity we discard, the more room we have in our drawers for good things. (Wait, that came out wrong…HA.) Life is just too stinkin’ short to live any other way.

Love to all! Have a great weekend. ❤

SoSheLaughedAnyway.com