True Life: I am Life Bulimic

As my friend so kindly put it, I’m life bulimic. The past couple of days, I’ve been working to scour through every last belonging. What has little or no emotional significance I’m donating. Or just plain chucking. Ozone layer be damned, sometimes it just feels better to throw things in the trash. Hard.

A lot of it has to do with moving. What I can’t fit into two suitcases I have to either store or purge.

I get in this mode almost predictably every spring; it’s my extreme version of “Spring Cleaning.” Last year, I called it my Perfect 10 Concept. And while the same rules apply, this is different. This is determined, cold-hearted war. I’m not afraid to call a spade a spade. I’m life bulimic.

To veer slightly off-subject… I’m so tired. My mom jokes that I have one mode: Go Mode. The problem is that I’ve been in Go Mode since, umm, August 2010. I had a week long brain break when I escaped to the Bahamas in May last year. But other than that, I’ve been running on empty for almost two straight years. I’m tired, burnt out, and it’s definitely not helping my whole mental health (or lack thereof) sitch.

My mom caught this from 3,000 miles away, and kindly booked me a flight home for July. She’s informed me that while I am home, I am to sleep on my beloved red couch, play with my puppy, and eat home food (think Mexican food, and my dad’s biscuits and gravy). I’m going to plan Paris explorations, rediscover my running legs, and bathe in Vitamin D.

Tangent aside, my purging isn’t just about clothes and belongings. It’s throwing away letters and gifts from high school boyfriends. It’s shedding my responsibilities with WOOF and other clubs. Even getting rid of books, old magazines, business cards. It’s throwing away half of my nail polish, old beat up (Sharpie’d in) flats, and threadbare towels. Even cleaning out my computer files. It’s about clarity, zen. I imagine this airy, white room. That’s what I want my inside to feel like. That’s what I want my everything to be.

For someone who claims to be a “gypsy soul,” I sure have a lot of baggage. And just general shit. Better to purge the 1-9.9s. I’m buying a lot of trash bags. And probably mints, too.

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Hi, I'm Marian.
By day, I'm a PR maven with a nerdy affinity for research and branding. By night, I'm an explorer; I delve into books, food, design, and the murky waters of my own psyche, then share my musings here.





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