I’m knee-deep in my ART OF TIDYING UP NEGATIVE ENERGY project on my master bedroom closet (I finished a hallway project first, so that post is on its way soon), which has lead me to a full-on conundrum – what to do with my family and wedding photos.
The memories of the four of us together on vacation, during a monumental event, or the biggest yet – WEDDING PHOTOS – are not ones that I can emotionally part with. These weren’t memories that I ever want to forget or pretend didn’t happen or that didn’t have real love behind them when they were shot.
BUT, displaying this family of four around the house is triggering for us left behind, to say the least. It feels confusing. Perhaps unauthentic. Weird.
So far, I have divided up some of these photos to give to my husband and I’ve pretty much stopped there. Should I box the rest up and store them? Will I ever look at them again without bursting into tears? I certainly don’t want to destroy them.
A project like my Art of Tidying Up Negative Energy is one meant to address the emotions that appear with the work. It’s important to put a lot of meaningful thought and purpose around the struggle. I knew this and expected it, but I was still surprised how quickly I was triggered and just downright sad while in the thick of it.
At one moment during the photo purge, I stared at an old photo of my husband and I before we had kids and thought, “Was he in love with me here?” He said he was (and up until the day he walked out). He said I was the ONE. His soulmate. And he was all of those things for me. But, was it his truth? I may never know. Maybe it doesn’t matter now that we’re at the place we’re at, but it still pokes at my heart.
And then the pics of the kids. Photos of us as a family of four stings the most. These beautiful boys with a loving mom and dad, now discarded. As if there was never a history, love bonding, or bloodlines. Just discarded. And now these moments will be discarded in a plastic bin to live in the garage indefinitely.
Unless you have a more clever idea for handling them. I’m all ears.
This sucks, people. 7 months. It’s only been 7 months. I’m in tears with every 4×6 I touch. Help.