Le Sigh - Pepe le Pew
I was a bit under the weather since Saturday. It's only today that I returned back to work. But I'm ok now.
The slightly colder weather is perfect for layering some thin pieces of clothing. Time for the cardigans and jackets to come out. So last night I've decided to edit my wardrobe. I carefully folded my summer tanks (the fancy ones meant for statement affairs), the tees with exploding prints and the assortment of other stuff I thought I could pull off but remained unworn for reasons that it simply doesn't fit my right frame of mind now. I've also edited the jumble of papers and knick knacks I've easily amassed since arriving here one year ago. It's a difficult process for someone like me who surround himself with stuff that has meanings and connections. But I don't negate the fact that everything in this reality has to end. Everything I hold dear will eventually pass. Only the good memories remain. Only the good times I want to remember. So with ruthless abandon I folded some of my fave tees that comprise a hundred or so. I remember coming here in Cambodia with just one suitcase which contains 20 shirts, 1 leather jacket, 1 cotton jacket, 4 cotton pants, 1 jeans and 4 shoes. Don't ask me how much I own now because I'm too ashamed to count. Then I moved on to the socks, underwear and pants. There were moments of debate between my head whether to keep an item or not. In the end I rationalized that there's more to come. I have to let go. I need to let go.
My heart was slightly bleeding when I saw the pile I need to chuck away. All those wonderful stuff. All those good memories attached to each pieces. Some I've tried discarding before but then decided to take back. I remember the same feeling very much like when I had to leave one year ago. It took me 6 months to recover. The horror of chucking almost 90% of what you have. There are moments when I would wake-up in the middle of the night because of nightmares involving those stuff I let go. And after another 6 months I'm undergoing the same process again.
I've never been good in articulating my feelings. My friends know that. Some even accuse me of being emotionaly constipated. When my college best friend died it took me a month to finally cry over it. And it was during my sleep. Same thing when my father died. I'm actually still mourning of his passing. I guess that's normal if you really love the person. I'm sure you understand even if I don't have to explain everything.
One thing I've learned is that I'm getting better at this 'cleaning' thing.