...or put them out with a box for donations, in case people feel like giving you some money for them.
...or build and stock a Little Library.
...or see if there are retired librarians, or a Friends of the Library, or other bibliophile group that might volunteer or take some, or buy some.
...or post some here, to see if anyone here will buy some.
...or list some for free on Craigslist, just so they'll go to someone who will appreciate them, instead of getting thrown away.
...or donate some to school libraries.
...or just acknowledge that you are burnt out, and rightly so, and say, "It's okay to take the time to do what I need to do."
...or ask if you really want to be spending the last few years of your life dealing with it, or if you'd rather be free of it all (acknowledging the money lost, the value not appreciated, etc.)
...or visualize what you WANT your place to look like, and your life to look like, in detail, and keep that as motivation to soldier on.
...or say "Thank you for your life," as you put them in a donation box or the trash. (That does help me to hold on to fewer things!)
...or ask if it's really, truly necessary to do this? Do you need the money to live? If not, what would happen if they were all gone? What would you otherwise do with that time?
...or try tapping, EFT, to see if it will help calm the panic attacks.
Video:
I had to laugh about the "goat trails"...my house is now full of them. And how I had a friend come help me throw out half my books, and another drag a bookshelf in, and then I got organized...and now I have twice as many piled on the floor.
And I sometimes joke that I'll be like the brothers who were found dead in their apartment after stacks of newspapers and other hoarded stuff fell on them, smothering them.
And I'm happy I'm not the only one. And I get disgusted when I see how much money I've spent...even really cheaply, like $1 or less per book.
And I ask WHY do I keep buying more, when even if I read one book a day for the rest of my life and lived to be 100, I'd still have too many.
And I try to blame the fact that they have "buy 3, get 1 free"...and that really works!
And I know part of it is that I want something different for my life...but I'm not sure I can make it happen...or that I'll try that and end up not liking that either...and there are so many books, so many good books! It's not gambling, it's not cheating, it's not stealing. What is wrong with reading books?!
And I still get angry at my siblings for stealing the gum and candy that I stashed away, after they had eaten theirs, and hunted mine down. Or when they swooped in after Grandma and Mommy died, and stole the gold teeth and all the jewelry, without asking. Or when they threw away whatever they felt like, as Pop was dying, and I took care of him, and I had to re-buy CDs of the music he loved, because that was all he could do was listen to music. He couldn't eat, couldn't read, didn't know day from night, but he died listening to his favorite CDs, which I had to re-buy!
Nobody better touch my books! Don't tell me to get rid of them. Don't tell me I have too many. Don't ask me what am I going to do with all of them. Don't tell me they are a tripping hazard.
I have a right to have my books, dammit! You don't like it? Shut up and walk away! (gee...no anger and bitterness and defensiveness THERE! hahahahahaha)
So I hear you, I get it, I have books, have walls of books around me. Safe books, interesting books, valuable books. To help me, to help me to understand me, to teach me, to entertain me.
I understand, I understand. I know I too must cull soon.
I am learning to be a witness to myself. The non-judgmental, non-critical witness that my family never was. The respectful, patient sidekick that stands by me as I uncover all sorts of ugly and messy memories and feelings, and passes me a stack of homemade tissues to cry into (made of cut up old t-shirts, of course!!)
And sometimes I do EFT, tapping, even though I used to think it was airy-fairy bullshit. But then the cerveza sickness happened, and things have been happening that I never thought possible. And things keep happening that are unthinkable, and unbelievable, and unimaginable...but all true.
And the EFT helps me to stay as calm as I possibly can in the middle of a world falling apart around me. And I read some more, and I know I will likely survive. And the witness beside me smiles in support.
So please know there are others here who understand, and who struggle with similar issues.
