Grandfather clocks and pirate medals?

Gifts we keep. And when to let go.

Believe it or not, the Birchbox is back.

I’m going to choose not to believe it because honestly? I can’t begin to tell you how much crap I accumulated in my bathroom between 2011 and 2015. So. Much. Crap.

But also? There was that one tiny foil packet of Eve Lom cleanser that I tried to make last for 4 months because OMG if you’ve never used this stuff? It. Is. Heavenly.

You never knew what you were going to get in your Birchbox and I think it was the mystery, thriller, suspense of it all that kept me subscribed.

But then there was this: The number of times my box actually contained anything good? That number is more than one, but definitely less than 5.

Which means that every month for 4 years, I was being given a box full of stuff I didn’t want. And shoving it into a drawer in my bathroom. Until that drawer got full and I dumped it all into a box that I shoved into my closet. Until I decided to move to Thailand and I offered the box to a very cosmetically-oriented friend who quite properly said, “Um, no. Thanks.”

Because we don’t have to accept things that people want to give us that we don’t want.

Except sometimes, we sorta do.

Because people are constantly trying to give us random things that we didn’t register for at Williams Sonoma.

And some of these things end up in our homes because it’s rude to toss something into the dumpster when the person who gave it to you is standing there with a hopeful “I got this for you and really hope you like it” smile on their face.

And also because we don’t feel like we can say no when someone we love offers us a piece of their heart wrapped up in a clock that is taller than you.

One winter, my grandfather spent seven billion hours in the garage building a grandfather clock out of a giant box full of parts that somehow were all supposed to fit together and work. It was seriously the crowning achievement of all his tinkering and fooling around and “inventing things” that were weird and often battery-operated. And for reasons I will never understand, nobody clapped when they saw it.

Except me.

My grandmother allowed it to stand in the foyer where it chimed every 15 minutes and counted out the hours until they downsized, and the movers broke something, and the clock never tick-tocked again. When my grandparents passed, nobody wanted the clock.

Except hi, it’s me.

It made no sense. I lived in a tiny apartment in NYC and where was I even going to put this clock?

And also? It made perfect sense. Because that clock represented all of my childhood memories and all of the love I had for my grandfather.

So, I made space for it.

Several years later, that space didn’t exist anymore. I was moving abroad and shipping a grandfather clock that didn’t even work across the ocean was not something I wanted to do.

So, I sold the clock. To someone who would love it as much as I did.

The thing is: When you’re moving toward something, you have to leave behind some things that you know are not quite right for this next part of your life. Things that don’t really belong in the life you’re stepping into.

When you want the life you’re building to have the space it needs to be amazing, sometimes that means getting rid of anything that makes that new life impossible.

Sometimes you have to let go of things you love because you need to move forward.

The other thing is this: You can totally toss anything that never belonged in any of your nine lives.

For Christmas one year, an old friend sent me a big box full of little boxes all wrapped up with Santa paper and loads of holiday cheer. On Christmas Eve, I tore them open because I kind of knew that they were mostly candy (because everyone knows that’s basically the best gift you could ever get me). But not all the gifts were sweet. One of those packages contained what will forever be known as The Medal.

A heart shaped, bronze-ish glob of metal, hanging from 3 gold-ish chains of varying thickness, looking like something a pirate might have cloaked herself with if she’d won first prize in the Pirate Games of 1432. It was heavy. It was stenciled. It was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen in the jewelry category. And, the tag was still on it so I could see that my friend had paid a lotta lotta money for this treasure.

Thank goodness we did not Facetime the opening of the gifts. Or the thanking her for the gifts on Christmas morning when she told me that she hoped I loved the necklace because when she saw it, she immediately thought of me.

Uhm, say what now? The Medal makes her think of me?

Pirate Olympian is the vibe I’m putting out into the world?

Please say it isn’t so.

It was NOT so.

I confirmed it with my City friends and work colleagues. And I got rid of The Medal.

Because nobody knows me better than me.

And nobody has to keep anything that doesn’t fit the vision you have of yourself or your life.

The Medal was not me. Not in any version of my life that I’m aware of. Did I hang on to it for a couple of years? I am sorry to tell you that the answer is yes. Mostly because I was in shock and wondering if maybe this was a sign that I needed to step into my pirate era. Did I come to my senses and then feel bad about dropping it in a donation bin? No. No, I did not.

You are allowed to let go of things that you don’t love. Even if someone else spent a lot of money because they really thought you would love it.

This might shock you, but I don’t believe in holding on to things you don’t want. Not in your home, your career, your relationships, or your Time Warner Cable plan.

I don’t believe in shoving things under the bed or in the back of the closet or up in the attic just to get it out of the way where you don’t have to look at it or think about it or deal with it because you just don’t even want it in the first place.

All of that tucking away is annoying. Especially when space is tight and things are coming untucked and falling on your head when you’re trying to get “the big suitcase” out so you can go on your summer vacation.

Nothing in your home should annoy you or make you feel like your life is way harder than it has to be.

Even things you used to want, but now you don’t.

Even things you think you might someday want, but probably won’t.

Even if it will make someone happy that you’re keeping it. Or sad that you’re not.

You get to decide what you want in your home and in your life. And if something doesn’t fit, you’re allowed to let it go.

You’re allowed to live in a home that works for you and moves you forward into the chapter of your life that you’re working on right now.

Letting go of things people have given you doesn’t mean you’re not grateful.

It doesn’t mean you’re erasing the memories or abandoning the love that brought these things into your life.

It doesn’t mean you’re being cold-hearted or selfish or rude.

It means you’re being true. To the person you are and the life you are building.

And if that life has space for sample-sized cosmetics, well…Birchbox is back!

Your friend who can’t stop herself from browsing the sample-size aisle at Sephora,
Vivian

PS. In case you’re thinking I’m always ready to toss out all the random, non-candy things I’ve been gifted, check out this post about the porcelain cat my fourth grade teacher bestowed upon me when she was throwing out a bunch of stuff so she could retire to the simple life in Florida.

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PPS. Know someone who needs to be part of this discussion about the things we keep, why we save them, and when to know if it’s time to let them go or hold on with all our might? Share or Restack this post so they can subscribe too.

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