I loathe unpacking. It's the reason why, much to my parent's dismay, that both my house and my car are often in cluttered disarray. It's not that I'm a hoarder. Speaking of, have you SEEN that show on TLC about hoarders? It's truly frightening. People with so much stuff they couldn't tell you what color their floor is. I'm not there. If fact, I'm more likely to throw out absolutely everything I can grab as I am to keep it, and the reason has already been stated. I HATE UNPACKING.
I spent most of my childhood and young adult years moving. When you move, you realize that your entire life is contained in few boxes and can be moved in a 15 foot truck accross the country only to be reassembled in a completely different house. As if the stuff would make it look like you never left at all. My room was always the first thing completely unpacked. It's not that I liked doing it so much as I needed the peace of mind that came with knowing my favorite stuffed animal and framed picture of Leonardo DiCaprio were in their proper positons so I could sleep.
Not only did I move pretty frequently, but my parents are divorced, so a few times a year I'd pack up and go live with my dad for a few weeks. In college, I was constantly traveling between school and home (4 hour trip) on weekends, so for a good chunk of my life I've lived out of suitcases. (Mom, Dad, if you're reading this, please know that I always felt I had stability even if the scenery changed)
For whatever reason I hate unpacking to the point I have stuck suitcases, fully packed, into closets and forgotten about them until my next trip (where handly, they are already packed). I hate unpacking because you have to find a logical home for everything that comes out of a shopping bag, suitcase, moving box, Christmas package. You have to rearrange things. Take out the old to make room for the new. You have to clean things. You may even have to buy a new piece of furniture to hold said things.
I wonder if one of the reasons anxiety is so difficult to let go of, is that it is a lot like unpacking. I can't tell you how many well-intentioned people have asked me why I can't just stop worrying? First, it's not just a matter of worry, it's clinical anxiety, so ease off your trigger a bit. Second, my brain doesn't want to unpack. Anxiety is a suitcase full of old memories, habits and hang-ups that I had shoved in a closet and forgotten about. Then the panic attack happened and suddenly I had to bust out the suitcase; like I was off on a trip to find my sanity. Unfortunately, what's in there has no place in my adult brain. I am going to have to get rid of things, move things around, wash things, and find a home for everything else.
I don't know why unpacking is so tough for me, but ironically enough, clutter makes me-you guessed it- anxious. So it looks like I'd better hit up HGTV for some better tips on how to get organized, because it is long past time that I unpacked.
