by Molly Jo Realy @RealMojo68

Frankly, My Dear . . . : Momma says, "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

Frankly, My Dear . . . : Momma says, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

I packed up almost thirty pieces of clothing to give away today. Thirty, y’all. I thought my closet would look sparse. Hungry, even. But, nope. There it is, all neat and pretty. Straightened. Dust free. And dare I say, organized.

Oh, and the shoes. That’s right. This Girl tossed out four pairs of shoes.

And I’d do it again.

My Momma always says, “Less is more.”

Now, I’m not always a fan of most of my Momma’s mantras. (Sorry to burst that bubble, Mom). Mostly because she uses them to drive home a point I should already know. Things like

“Keep it simple.”

“Just breathe.”

She’s right of course. Dangnabbit. She’s almost always right. Dangnabbit again. I guess it comes with . . . Well, I was gonna say age, but not sure she would approve. Let’s change that. I guess it comes with the territory of being a Momma.

So, back to my opener. Yup. I did it. I’ve been on a clearance kick and I don’t mean sale. I’m taking a day at a time to focus of what I can, and let go of what I can’t.

Letting go can be hard. We hold on to so many things for varying reasons:

  • Sentimentality
  • A sense of obligation
  • Rarity
  • Habit
  • Hassle of disposal

But those aren’t really good reasons to keep things around. Things, here, can mean more than the tangible. It’s also emotions, thoughts, actions.

Before you know it, life is hoarding station and you know you have what you need but it’s buried under mountains of . . . well, stuff you don’t need.

I tend to hold onto things for “someday”:
I can’t get rid of those games, I might someday have grandchildren.
I can’t toss out that old jacket. I bought it two boyfriends ago.
I need these movies that I haven’t watched for ten years. I might have friends over next someday.
I don’t want to let go of how I’m feeling. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m used to it.

Mostly, when I’m stressed over something that hasn’t happened yet, Momma sits me down with a cup of coffee and says those seven words I dread the most.

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

She’s right, of course. Did I say that already? YOU’RE RIGHT, MOM. OKAY?! You’re. Right.

And the best thing I can do, is do the best I can. No matter what.

As you’ve probably guessed, my Momma’s a big fan of keeping life neat and tidy. [And her house. You should see her house. It’s better than mine. Like, always. #shemakesmejealous.]

The truth is, nothing changes if nothing changes. And since each day is new, that’s a whole new 24-hour pile of stuff going on to the pile from the day before, and the day before, and the day before . . . And before I know it, I have a year’s worth of junk mail in a bag on the floor. What good is that to anyone?

So, literally and metaphorically, I’m cleaning out the house this month. And I’ve come up with a few questions to help me evaluate whether something should be kept, donated, or trashed:

  • Does this enhance my life?
  • Does this help me enhance the life of others?
  • Do I feel good and healthy about this?
  • Does this bring back good memories, or do I just feel obligated to keep this?
  • When was the last time this was used or useful or appreciated?
  • Am I holding onto this in anticipation of something that may never happen?
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Momma says, "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

Frankly, My Dear . . . : Momma says, “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

Now, I don’t want to be a chicken, afraid of life and what’s right in front of me. I want to be a chicken who’s brave enough to crack that shell and come out into the world singing.

So if y’all will excuse me, before I toss this house some more, I need to go sit down for coffee with my Momma.

Are you facing a messy closet and need a change? How do you clean out your life?

TWEET THIS: How do you clean out your life? #Momma and #Chickens and a Clean Closet @RealMojo68

With a clean closet and a happy chick,
~Molly Jo

And Frankly, My Dear . . . : That’s all she wrote!


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