The Emotional Bondage of Stuff, or, Why am I having so much trouble getting rid of things I don't really like, never wanted in the first place, and actively want to discard?

I had a lot of stuff that I really loved, and six years ago, I found the perfect house for me to buy and move it into. When I moved in, most of my stuff stayed in boxes, as I tried to figure out how it fit into my perfect house. Then a flood took out my basement. Then I couldn't pay for the repairs. Then I borrowed against everything, put everything on credit cards, borrowed some more. Then I fell behind on the mortgage. Then the sheriff locked the doors and the bank sold my house, and took my things. My things, which I bought a house to keep them in, were put in storage at an exorbitant monthly rate, in a place I wasn't allowed to visit them. I had no money to bail them out, and as I lived with my Mom and my cat and the clothes I could get into the car before they kicked me out, I realized that I didn't need much of anything. I started digging myself out of debt, and I still didn't need much of anything. I found things to do that didn't require me to keep much of anything. I wore the same clothes through the week, some for work, some for home, and I didn't need to buy much of anything. I was able to get my own apartment, and I realized that I could choose the absolute perfect things, because there was very little pressure, because I didn't need to save much of anything. I let the bank sell all my things. I don't miss one thing that's gone. By not needing much of anything, I found that I pretty much have everything I want.

Some thoughts as to why it's so hard to get rid of the things we know that we should feel like we shouldn't need. I am not a hoarder per se, but I have difficulties far beyond what I would like with organization and keeping my stuff to a reasonable, manageable stuff-level. The following is mostly what I have learned through observation of people with far more serious situations than myself, which has given me insight into what I get out of dysfunctional stuff-management. There are two things, besides the (imaginary) usefulness of having things I might need someday on hand and the (slightly more rational) sentimental attachment to things that I have decided will be my stand-in for memories I would like to preserve- I mean, those are hard enough to get over, but in addition, stuff keeps me in thrall because I have given it emotional significance as my guard and protector. From your description of your attachment to your things as emotional bondage, it seems possible that you may feel something similar. First, the gross weight of sheer things and the density of their arrangement in my living space has taken on a symbolic meaning as an extension of my own physical self. Many people have seen what happens when a well-meaning person attempts to help an even slightly reluctant hoarder clean: touch the wrong thing, move too quickly, and the person who hoards may respond with an irrational-seeming anxiety response, or anger equivalent to what would be seen if they were themselves physically attacked. When I use things as a crutch against fear, I am not small and squishy and light, defenseless against the things that threaten me; instead I am enormous and expanding, I weigh tons, and when I am in the safety of my room, I am shielded by multiple barriers of things that are layered in the way of any unwanted intrusions. Anyone or thing that wants to mess with me has to get to me first. And obviously I have a good excuse not to invite people into my private space- too embarrassing- so I don't even have to deal with possible consequences. Second, the presence of clutter, both visible (the never-sorted laundry on the never-sat-on couch) and invisible (forty-seven mystery boxes in the basement) serves as a highly convenient proxy when it comes to anxiety. What's the use of dealing with worry about and working through a higher-level concern, such as how to get into and pay for the school that I still need, when I can't even cross my bedroom floor without risking injury? How can I be expected to get that small business going when I need to sort ten boxes of papers to find two documents I need? I can't possibly deal with that now; it'll have to wait until I can get all these things straightened out. Anxiety regarding things that may be partly out of my control is transferred to the more manageable anxiety and shame over being a packrat and a slob. Which, being more immediate, lets me look no further than my mess for a reason as to why I never really have it together. I can still see the other reasons, but it's easier to backburner them until I can deal with all the stuff. Except, as suggested above, the stuff is what protects me, and therefore the mess is self-perpetuating. I use present tense because this cycle is still playing itself out, although much less severely than previously. Part of what has helped, after working out all of the above from looking at others and examining how I accumulated clutter, is attempting to identify and acknowledge the symbolic meaning individual pieces or collections of crap means, as I encounter it; this is useful for taking away some of the emotional power of memory-placeholders. Another useful thing for the actual purging process, which will probably sound weird or gross, is envisioning my protective clutter-shield as a giant carapace or skin that is now outgrown and must be shed, piece by piece. I have to keep constantly in mind the fact that its negative benefits outweigh its positive benefits, and that those jumbled boxes and piles of magazines and decades-old papers are like individual scales or scabs. If I choose to keep them, they will weigh me down and hold me back no matter what growth I might be achieving underneath. If I choose not to slough them off, I need to acknowledge that I am placing an artificial barrier between myself and the rest of the world. So, to answer your plea: no, you don't need the bottles or the clothes that echo the person you once were, or the decorations that were nice things you never quite let yourself enjoy, or whatever- and you know you don't need them, perfectly well, in the technical sense of the objects themselves. You know that the objects themselves are hurting you. But you have been willing to accept that harm because you do very much need the intangible things for which all of the objects are a substitute. Severing the emotional bond with the stuff is going to require building it with yourself and other people. Some of the support and comfort you now get from your things is support you may have to do without, for a while. You sound extremely resourceful and strong, underneath it all, and I do not doubt that you can get through whatever method you decide to use to deal with your immediate situation, as well as your long-term approach to your things.

Chuck them out without looking. You don't even remember what's in there anyway, and if you haven't needed it in this long, you won't ever need it. There is almost nothing you can't rebuy later if necessary, anyway. This was going to be exactly my suggestion. Do you have a particularly stoic friend? Enlist their help sorting the stuff not in boxes, and in taking away the unopened boxes and making them disappear. I chucked a lot of stuff recently and I feel so good- like a person who is less weighed down by mistakes in her past and opportunities she missed. I feel more aerodynamic. Also, the first part of your new mantra is "It will bless someone else's life." That crockpot? Those sweaters? Those sheets? Somewhere there's a family who has to stretch their grocery budget- they NEED to find that crockpot at Goodwill. There's a woman who is cold every day and can't afford to turn up her heat- she needs those sweaters. There's someone who just got out of a bad relationship and is starting over- they need those sheets. Even the decorative crap will make someone else happy because it's to their taste. The second part, stolen from an issue of O Magazine (shut up.) on decluttering is "These cards are not my mother." Those gifts that your relative sent? They are not the relative's love for you. You carry that inside, not in a box. You do not need to keep the stuff to keep the love. Good luck, I wish you the best. This process was really liberating for me; I hope it is for you as well.

I can see something in your post and in your responses. Once upon a time, I had a Victorian breakfast cup (what would today be similar to a latte cup) and it had a portly gentleman on it and it said "I am not greedy, but I like a lot." That is me, and it's possible that's you. And http://ask.metafilter.com/207122/The-Emotional-Bondage-of-Stuff-or-Why-am-I-having-so-much-trouble-getting-rid-of-things-I-dont-really-like-never-wanted-in-the-first-place-and-actively-want-to-discard#2985365 gets it perfectly. You like a lot of words, and are very descriptive. You like having a lot of things around you, I know - it's comfortable and interesting and it's everything in notquitemaryann's comment. And, it seems you have have a lot of thoughts in your head about why and why and why it's so hard - and those are understandable. And, as I've learned, people with physical issues often live in their heads, and so having a head full of thoughts is simultaneously stimulating and comfortable. In the past, in both my job and http://www.thestar.com/comment/columnists/article/427451 (and as an ongoing thing with my parents), I've helped people divest themselves of "a lot". In the article I've linked to, what it very kindly doesn't say is that the house was incredibly full. There are tv shows about how full it was now. And, every single thing in there had meaning or was beautiful or sentimental or had potential and there was not time to make a decision about every single thing. You don't have that either. I'm sorry that you don't have a team - I'd gladly help. And, for my part, twice I've had to leave full homes rather quickly, once with nothing (though I was allowed to go back and take whatever I could within one hour, under duress); and once leaving with only one room to hold me and my things. So I agree with the advice to first pack (or label for the move) only what can be contained in the place you're going to. Let that be your guideline. But, while I also adore the thoughts about being able to access anything in the world when you're ready for it, it doesn't help with the things you have an emotional attachment to now. And it doesn't help with the physical part. The physical part of touching things leads to the emotional part, too - it's diabolical! I am simply hoping for any spark of insight that any and all might have to offer on ways I might possibly make it suck less, in terms of attitude, approach, coping mechanisms, possible methods of getting rid of the stuff that I might not have thought of, y'know, anything. One of the things that might need to happen for you is that you need time (which I know you don't have much of) to work on your mindset. Crisis is a great impetus, of course - but you need to get comfortable with the emotions and anxiety of letting go of stuff, and realize it will pass. I see that you grasp this concept by your post, but likely only in an abstract way at this point. Hopefully, it won't be abstract to you to realize that you will be fine on the other side of this, because it just will be. That's a really good feeling to hold onto. You might need to grieve a few things over time, but you can get past that. Part of the difficulty in getting started is that it's hard to have the energy to emotionally deal with this as well as physically. Do you know what I thought of when I was working with someone - the http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OtBBMff1hU&feature=related. Somehow, you need to get yourself to the part http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8B56YRizoTc. How do you make it less hard? You need to look at your stuff that's holding you down and get mad at it, really mad that it's keeping you from being flexible and it's keeping you from moving forward with ease and simplicity. Anger is an energy, right? And if that impels you to stand up to your stuff and tell it that it has no power over you, even that little burst of energy can get one box packed. So, while sure, I'd recommend fifteen minute increments or all those good suggestions above, I'd suggest you also spend some time sitting and looking at those boxes or those collections of things, letting all the emotions wash over you when you look at them or even touch them and remember and think about keeping them - but push the feelings to the limit, feel them to the fullest, and get past them - and then get mad enough to get moving on it. Don't put something aside to keep to think about later - make the decision, and feel the relief. Get out of the strain of the doing and into the joy of the done. Soon you won't be doing this for every little thing. Momentum is huge. The more you get used to making decisions on items, the faster you'll get at doing so. And you don't even have to physically move much to get to that point. That will help you develop the calluses you say you need. That said, if I have guessed at least your state correctly, there is a business that handles not just Estate Sales (Contents Sales is another search term you could use, wherever you are) - but they have what is called a "move coordination service" which looks at what will fit into the space you're moving into, what is essential, what can be sold etc. They pack and unpack, and have Estate Sale services for what's left behind. Whether or not this is the "lifetime liquidation" solution you need, perhaps there is something similar wherever you are. And last, before I go and dump my own mudroom and put back only into it what I am actually going to use - my own project for the day - I'm going to also tell you that you just can not personally responsible for the ultimate fate of every item in your possession. Unless the items you need destroyed are genuinely evil or illegal, or of a supremely private nature, nobody associates the same emotions with them as you do. Just let them go, if you can. And there's one more theory that I use - every once in a while, people need an exemption from being the person that makes sure that everything gets properly recycled and disposed of and donated in the best possible fashion for the sake of the world. Let a company that does this be responsible for that, and it will then be easier to move forward without that on your conscience. I wish the best for you. I know, it's very, very hard.

You need two or three friends with a free weekend. They come to your house while you go spend the day at the library or a coffee shop or something. They sort everything into four piles/rooms: 1. Any and all things that look like they have sentimental value: letters, baby clothes, old stuffed animals, etc. If they're in doubt about whether something is meaningful, err on the side of caution and put it in this pile. 2. Things that they think will be practical and useful in your new life. (Your current wardrobe, dishes, etc.) This pile should be small. Tell them what you're shooting for: no more stuff than you can fit in a car? A suitcase? The smallest UHaul? 3. Things that ate useful to someone, but not, currently, to you. The two fish tanks you have when you've never owned fish as long as these friends have known you, etc. These are the things that can be donated. 4. Trash. The broken comb. The old pair of jeans. THEN, after THEY have done this sorting, you're allowed to come home. Your friends stay with you while you look at their decisions. Don't even look at the trash. It should be already bagged and sitting at the curb. Give a quick perusal of the "donate" pile. You're only allowed to move something out of that pile if you can convince both friends that you should. Once this is done, have your friends cart stuff off ASAP, so you can't second guess yourself. The "useful" pile should be small already, so you should be able to leave it as is. If the combination of the useful and sentimental piles is small enough to fit in whatever method of transport you decided on beforehand, you're done. If not, have your friends do the same sorting process described above on the sentimental pile. Basically, use their judgement instead of your own. Give yourself a VERY small container (like a single book box or carryon suitcase) where you can veto their decisions and keep something "just because", but otherwise let them be the deciders.

However, unfortunately, there is a VAST range of content in those boxes - and a few things of great sentimental value I would strongly prefer not to lose - along with the potential for "personal" material I might not want ending up in some random party's hand, which makes me leery of donating boxes of unknown content. How many boxes are we taking here? 10? 50? 100? I vote for making a list of the things you need destroyed/kept. It should be, like, five items, maybe. (ie, KEEP: Papers to do with my immigration; kitchen tools from my mother; craft supplies. DESTROY: that gift ex gave me, all videotapes since I think one of them is a sex tape; any picture of me with person I now hate.) Then you have a friend go through the boxes and do the sorting. You are NOT to look at any of this stuff. Offhand I can't think of anything specific, but that's not necessarily meaningful. I actually think it is really meaningful in that it's a sign that the idea of the stuff and the emotions around it are more important to you than the actual STUFF. You need a personal packer who will keep your emotions separate from the stuff, by keeping YOU separate from the stuff.

Imagine your house burned down and you lost everything. How would you feel? I am guessing, you would be at least a little bit relieved. Think about that for a while. More practical suggestion: the boxes that you have been carting around without opening - don't open them. Chuck them out without looking. You don't even remember what's in there anyway, and if you haven't needed it in this long, you won't ever need it. There is almost nothing you can't rebuy later if necessary, anyway. Everything else: take photos, then throw away. Also, the friends who have offered to store or help you move things: enlist their help to get rid of things instead. Put everything you are going to throw out in one room and ask them to get it from there to the dumpster or to the rubbish tip. Good luck.

I think enlisting your friends is a great idea here. If you're in the Chapel Hill, NC area I will donate a few hours of my time this coming weekend to the cause. Start with the easy stuff. Things like the kitchen -- you might have one or two sentimental items in there, but lots of it is just ready to donate. Dishes, silverware, you don't need any of that. Same goes for things like furniture. Books are a bit trickier but unless it's sentimentally valuable (family Bible level of sentiment, I mean) it gets donated. You're not keeping any furniture. I have a close friend who has fewer than 50 possessions. He has a large shoebox that he keeps everything sentimental in. If there are things that don't fit in the box -- like a shirt -- he cuts a piece of the shirt off to save. That's a good trick for keeping sentimental items that I now use myself. The box mostly contains photographs and little pieces of items. You may also want to write a list of all the things that you can think of that you know are sentimental. Take an hour or two and sit down in a quiet space and just think. Don't go looking for the stuff, just ask yourself: If my house was burning down really, really slowly, what ten items would I save? Get your friends to help. Give them a copy of the list. If it's not on the list, they don't have to ask you about every little thing. Your personal papers are going to be the most difficult (at least they would be for me). Don't start with them; do them after you've gotten a great rhythm going. Also, get rid of the stuff you've boxed up every day. Don't wait. You'll see the results and it will feel amazing. If you pile everything up in the "this is garbage" and "this is good to donate" piles and wait until the end it won't look like you've made any progress. This is awesome! You're going to feel a real sense of pride and accomplishment when this is over. Try to comfort yourself with that thought, and take good care of yourself in the next few weeks while you go through this. It will be difficult, but you can definitely do it.

In the Larry McMurtry book Cadillac Jack, the title character, a picker, envisions all of the stuff people accumuate as an infinite river glowing past. Sometimes they collect stuff, pulling it out if the river, and sometimes they divest, tossing it back in. Very few things are truly so rare that you can't pluck them out of the river almost at will (see eBay comment linked upthread). I find this idea comforting.