Empty Storage Unit, Full Tank

Just after the gate closed behind me and I started down the road for my house on a particular Tuesday, I had a slight regret that I hadn't taken a moment to turn around and take a picture when I hauled the last bit of goods from the storage unit my "overflow stuff" had occupied.  I'd told myself that I'd take a picture of it, in its rat-droppings-glory just to remember what it looked like empty.

But I don't need a picture.  I know what empty is like.

After DeDe, my wife of thirty-three years, passed away, I felt an emptiness.  That is the first sensation when you lose someone in your life, especially a life partner.  'Til death do us part means one of us is likely to go first, and one of us will have to move on.  I knew, shortly after she died, that there was only one way that I could move forward.  I didn't know how it would all work out, I didn't know how long it take.  No one can know those things when it is the first time to deal with it.

For me, I was a very different man after being married over half of my life to a woman who I laughed and cried and and made a family and made art and made love and, in short, shared a life, with.  I don't believe a person should have to change for a love, but I do believe that having a lover become part of your life changes you.  If not, what is the point?

I became a more complete person with DeDe.  She brought out the best in me.  She called out flaws, encouraged goodness I didn't know I have.  I had an inherent darkness in me that she managed to shine a light on, and show a beauty in it.  I was able to accept myself more wholly, and some of that has only truly come to pass since she left this plane.  The things in me that changed with her were not from her, but because of her.  The difference is, things that because of someone are the things that are indelible. 

After she passed, yes, there was emptiness.  It is inevitable.  For me, the task of dealing with that emptiness was realizing just how complete I am now.  I needed to learn who I was when I was first with her, and to have her become a part of my life.  I needed to learn who I am without her, and the storage unit was, strangely enough, the very thing that put this all in perspective.

The clutter I removed was cleansing for my physical life.  And with each box I went through, I processed and I learned, and I realized much more about her, and about myself.

This morning, as I write, it is dark outside, and I hear the jets taking off from Mineta Airport in San Jose.  A big part of who I am now is my love of travel.  The world turns on, and with my tank full and my storage unit empty, I move onward.

Stuffed

It's as American as apple pie: The storage unit.

I see storage companies everywhere I go in the US.  Don't get me wrong, they have their purpose, but for the most part, these are absolute money pits.  How do I know?

I have one.  #375 is my storage unit.

I left a house in Pennsylvania in 2012, where I had a lot of spare space, and moved into a place with almost none.  Even after we got rid of a lot of stuff for the move, we still had too much stuff.

What we kept went into storage.  Storage units, like most everything in Silicon Valley, aren't cheap.

Though it is a money pit, but there is indeed some stuff in there that I want to keep.  Still, when calculating the amount of money dumped into a storage unit versus the potential value of its contents, it is a ridiculously bad investment.

And yet, these storage compounds are everywhere in Silicon Valley, and they are in small towns too.

Need to store your overflow stuff in the small desert town of Fernley, Nevada, population 20,000?  They've got you covered:

There is an emotional component to the one I have, and I suspect that is in play for others who rent these things as well.  In mine is some of my late wife DeDe's stuff.  There's also stuff from my kids' childhood.

But, in the end, it's just stuff.

So I have been working at clearing out this storage unit for the past couple of months.

It is a demanding process, and it can be emotional.  I found a little journal DeDe kept at a difficult time in her life.  I found an incredible poem she wrote that I'm still processing.  I found some surprising art projects she was developing.

But what I have found worth keeping is a fraction of what I have found worth getting rid of.  I've been giving a lot of what has come out away.  There is a cleansing feeling that comes from this.

There are a handful of things with some monetary value, but I don't have use for, which I will sell.  What will remain are a few things that are important enough to take up real estate in the house.

This is indeed a demanding process, but a worthwhile one.  The acquisition of stuff is probably a part of the human condition, but we in the United States have raised it to an art form, and the signs of that dot major thoroughfares today.

But I'm getting out of the storage unit business.  The center of the picture at left is the light at the end of the tunnel.  This storage locker was full to capacity.  Come November 1, it will empty, should you want to move your excessive stuff in there.

But I advise against it.