Hoarding The Beginnings

I grew up with the bare minimum, shopping from the sale racks for basic necessities.  While my classmates had school supplies with the latest Sanrio characters my materials were without adornment.  They would return from Winter & Spring Break wearing new clothes (that their grandparents had gotten), but I had no one spoiling me with material possessions.  The day after Spring Break the most popular girl in elementary twirled in what she called her “Easter dress,” proudly sharing with everyone that her grandma had taken her to Robinson’s May to pick it out.  My grandparents lived in Mexico and I rarely got to see them and when I did my parents were usually the ones providing for them…  My parents too grew up in Mexico sometimes lacking the basic needs.     

I lied on a job application and began working when I was fifteen-years-old as a cashier at a fast food joint.  Since, it's as Tupac would sing, “…I love payin’ rent when the rent’s due…”  Most of my life I would go to stores and look at items and think I can’t afford that and probably never will, but soon as I began providing for myself I began to buy the material luxuries that I went without. However, I couldn’t make peace with paying so much money for designer pieces and often I went with cheaper versions.  Until, I came into the world of buying preloved items.  At thrift stores I found treasures for a few bucks and thus my hoarding began.

I developed this love for things.  Shoes first because no matter what size the scale reads shoes are forgiving and continue to slide on the foot. That and the fact that I always saw kids wearing Nike sneakers and mine were always dupes.  As an adult secondhand shopper, I packed my closet full of the best material goods that only a few people can afford.  The thrill of excavating and finding the one-dollar Jimmy Choo’s was as much fun as putting the found treasure in a nice storage box in my closet.  Looking at all the wonderful designer goods and buying more and more made me happy for the longest time, but now my possessions are starting to give me anxiety.  I have too much and many of the items just sit like forgotten artifacts in an over packed closet.  Yet, equally anxious ridden is the thought of letting them go.  I think I have some hoarding symptoms that I need to work out in order to slowly simplify my life as I enter into the cadency phase of my (over-extended) Secular Franciscan process...           

Seriously who needs this many sunglasses?