EDITING.... by dz

Last week there were a few revelations, which made me think and do what I had to do the last few days.

I was talking to Peanut about this; we are going on similar yet very different journeys. One of the things we do is edit. Edit our lives. From friendships that no longer benefit us spiritually, emotionally to foods that were bad for us, we ran through a list.

This is life, no?

Editing anything out of your life, especially friends and relatives, can be a painful process. We are all not heartless people, but there are personalities that drain you. And you wonder why, after each encounter you have with them, you are friends.

And so it goes.

I started with my wardrobe. In my past life, I went to many functions and dinners. In this life I have now, I don't. A number of dresses and evening gowns stand forlornly in the cupboard, gathering dust. I have given many away, and there are a few more.

The Dress still stays. Until I wear it once, it will wait in the cupboard. The rest? They do not fit into my life now, and I do not see them fitting into the future.

Now I am wondering how to do this: to get out of an enterprise. Mind you, this is not about ending a friendship, but moving on from a dead end project that I got dragged into this year. I have told the team that I had no passion for it, I didn't want to be part of it, but they begged to differ.

Honeytar opened my eyes last night. "Your laptop being stolen was one way of you detaching yourself from him. That was the final gift from him. Now you are free."

She was right, but I still fret as I have many photos and work in the laptop. Whoever has it, may he or she poo tankers.

I have friends that can be curt about editing. I am in awe of their boldness and hurt by their callousness. But, as we all know, this is life. You just pick yourself up and move on.

Editing requires strength. Physical in the sense that you have to move to take action. When I gave away a dress my arms hurt because the dress had so many memories, but I gave it away.

Emotional because you think, what if you still want to be in touch with the person? So you call your good friends like Sof, and then you realise, it was never meant to be. Mental because you have to be focussed, and it's easy to not be, you know! You delude yourself into thinking that one day all these will be artefacts that the Smithsonian will want upon your death and that your gossip magazines will be studied by 25th century academics.

It is May.

Four months of the year have passed, and so many things have happened. I wonder what will happen today and tomorrow, but I do know that I will be editing more parts of my life that may have served me well years ago, but have no place now.