… Or nesting.
I get told often enough that I “have a lot of stuff.” I do. There is no point in denying it or trying to paint a different picture. I’m fairly eclectic and I dabble in many different medias and interests. Usually when I pack I feel like a majority of my burden is getting my books in boxes. Boy do I have to a lot of books. The second biggest problem I have is my movies. However, I had just spent two hours removing them all from their cases into media binders for easier transportation. A hard decision that wasn’t made easily in anyway.
I was once called a “media whore.” A term I neither like nor agree with. I love stories and try to absorb them in anyway possible. It’s a product of how I was raised; a gift from my mother. It may be born from bedtime story time where my mother would have my siblings and I (an occasional neighbor boy from time to time) pull our pillows and blankets to the floor in our bedroom doorways. We’d lie on the floor as she read us stories. She’d never miss a voice. My biggest memory of this is the story of the Christmas Tree, the one that was too big to fit in any house so it kept getting clipped until it was just right for a mouse. I loved it.
Stories. I like watching them, reading them, writing them, crafting them, and imagining them. It’s a big part of my nest.
Nest. What a choice of words but that’s what it is. It’s my comfort zone. For ten years I’ve floated from one apartment to another room to another apartment to another room and the story goes on. I did this fighting major depressive disorder with general anxiety, PTSD, and suicidal ideation. The only way I was comfortable is surrounded by my collection of things. My movies, books, music, and craft supplies. I Used to describe my home as my things instead of a place where shared memories with loved ones are created.
With those two explanations I don’t deny that I have a lot of things. I am not a hoarder if that is the impression you’ve gotten. I am actually quite clean and very capable of giving to thrift stores. I just don’t live the life of a minimalist. I just hope that better explains why someone might have a lot of things. Maybe, it’s deeper then absorbing the newest media trend (which is also not me, books I tell you.)