Last week my friend lovingly helped me clean out my closet. I noticed a pang of... Something within myself. Unease? Sadness? Panic? I have a hard time with change and getting rid of things.
My parents grew up poor in Thailand, then immigrated to the U.S., where they were considered even more poor. My dad recounts how he used to drive taxis and would count every penny of his fare until he could afford to buy the box of diapers his baby needed. There's a Thai expression my mom often uses that I believe translates loosely to, "What a sadness to waste that!" The idea is: That thing is still perfectly usable, how could you get rid of it?! What waste! And: What if you need this in the future? This applies to plastic food containers, food, days-old coffee, hangers that aren't aesthetically pleasing but still sturdy and intact.
A mindset of scarcity and fear is hardwired in me. But it doesn't make sense for me to live this way anymore. I don't need to carry the burdens and beliefs of my ancestors. I don't need to live in fear that the other shoe could drop and one day I could end up impoverished and need these T-shirts I haven't worn in years or spoons that make our kitchen drawers stick or prelit Christmas trees where 75% of the lights don't light up.
I asked the part of me who was feeling scared what she was so scared of. She thought that by throwing away these old hangers, I was throwing away my parents and the painstaking efforts they put in to raise me and ensure I was better off than them. I told her that we are much more financially stable than we have ever been in our lives. I showed her that these objects are not the same as people and our love for each other. I showed her that it doesn't even make sense to equate these dusty, unused objects to values or people who are important to me. I reminded her that we actually WANT things clean and decluttered. She still felt uneasy, but trusted me that this was what was best.
I sorted through the hangers and separated out the wire ones. I brought them to my local drycleaners to be recycled - most drycleaners in my area are owned by Korean immigrants of my parents' generation, who I imagine share a similar sensibility as it comes to savings and reuse. It was a win for all: I cleaned things out, released some emotional and physical burdens, and she saved some dollars on having to buy new hangers.
I’m not obligated to keep things that no longer work.