Overcoming overwhelming odds!

And weighing the pros and cons.

If you know me, it's no secret that I'm a dreamer. I love an adventure. And I've never been afraid of the unknown. But, out of necessity, I've become a cautious person.

However, I sense myself coming to a fork in the road, one that demands a decision. I put myself in situations which evoke visions of happier times, or visions of how my life could be. And my inner child shouts, "YOU'RE STILL YOUNG! IT'S NOW OR NEVER! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT!"

The way it is now I'm a dog on a chain, a fish in a bowl, a horse in a corral, a bird in a cage . . .  I spend inordinate amounts of time thinking about things that I could be experiencing, and resenting the restraints. And I know I'm not alone in this. But I may be one of the few who will actually do something about it. I have nothing to lose, others do.

When I really think about what I'm contemplating, the hurdles are daunting, not the least of which is parting with the immense amount of "stuff" accumulated over a period of at least 40 years. 40 YEARS!! Why do we do it?!!

I guess because much of it was given to us by someone special and we feel guilty about getting rid of it. Some of it also comes from a love of certain things which we collect too much of. And things we haven't looked at in years, but think we might need sometime. So there it all sits. And the biggest hurdle is how to purge ourselves of it . . . give it away, have an annoying garage sale, an auction? I don't know the answer at this point, but my wheels have begun to turn. I see that as a good thing. I turn a discerning eye on some of these "things" and think to myself "would I miss it, could I live without it?". The most difficult decision for me would be my books.

Then I begin to think about putting the "keepers" in storage. But would the cost be worth it, and would I ever come back to it. You'd probably see my unit on Storage Wars! Tough questions. But I know me, and I'm not going to let myself get by without making that decision.

And the clock is ticking . . .