Breathe

Sometimes I just need to breathe. Song lyrics for a reason, right?
Lately I've been having to breathe so often I'm very close to hyperventilating. I read an interesting blog post earlier in the week about stress being a choice. That if we feel stressed it's because we're choosing to react that way to a certain situation. I agree with that line of thinking though I often find it difficult to come up with an alternative at all let alone a better one. When I sit down and think about the situations that I'm choosing to be stressed about I tend to realize that all of those situations are a result of my actions or most of the time, inaction. So why am I choosing to do these things/not do these things that ultimately lead me to choose to react in such a stressful manner? The only answer I can think of is that I like it.
I grew up in a stress-filled home, with stress-filled parents, that had stress-filled jobs. I think it may be my natural habitat. I may not actually know how to survive in a stress-free environment. I'm still going to try. I have been holding on to a lot of things. Literally things, materials, objects, etc., that cause me emotional and physical stress reactions anytime I look at them. Well it's mostly the placement and sheer volume of these things that cause the reaction, not the individuals items. I'm holding on to them for the following reasons:

1. They represent money I spent and I feel that if I get rid of it I am throwing, giving, losing money. Well it's already gone. No need reminding yourself everyday of past mistakes and regrets. A little sick, really.
2. I think I'll need them one day. Yeah well, actually it's more like I think it'll be nice to have one day. Or that someone will think it's cool that I still have one, it, them, etc. Awesome, I'm storing useless things for possible future validation by others...a LOT sick. 
3. I think Ruby will want it. Yes, Ruby may grow up and think it's really great that I saved her first pair of shoes. Do I really need her first booties, snow boots, sandals, dressy shoes, white shoes for after labor day, kitschy animal shoes, or shoes she never even wore but might want her possible daughter to wear one day? (Okay so seriously, how am I not locked up?)

I know that I'm doing it because I wanted those things. There are a lot of things that I'd love to have from my childhood to give to Ruby, except no probably not. They would be almost thirty years old, have been stored in a house/attic in Florida for most of it, above smokers and frequent users of air fresheners. Upon further reflection I hope no one has those toys and they have been passed on to toy heaven to run in a field all day and play toy games or whatever it is toys do in toy heaven. Besides, most of the cool toys have been remade anyway and are being sold as retro toys for three times what they originally cost. So if I really want her to have something I did, I can just tell one of her four sets of grandparents. Yes, I said four, but that's another story for another day. So to further my healing I will now provide an embarrassing example of my problems.

This is just one corner of our bedroom. Know what it is? A pile of dressy clothes, out-grown baby clothes and other random junk to get rid of. TO. GET. RID. OF. Yes, seriously. Now you know why I want the clean sweep team for a week. Every closet is just as bad. We're drowning in toys and laundry, clean and dirty. Luckily there's a week coming up that we'll be Ruby and work free. It will be dealt with, one way or another. Until then, stress mountain will stand proudly. Mocking me.