I do go on sprees. I admit it. I use them to boost myself out of depression and to deal with what feels like emptiness inside of me.

Once it was this brand of clothes (Seed) at Walmart. I felt like I had to own most of it – two pairs of the black leggings, all the t-shirts in size large, the mini skirts that matched with the leggings (brown skirt, brown leggings – I looked fabulous. Just ask me.) They were not that expensive, but that’s not the point.

My latest spree was (are) boxes. Most of them were free, like the lentil box, the most expensive was $3. (An adorable jewelry box from a Thrift Store.) I intended to use them for Christmas gifts, which I am hand making.

Many of them were pretty. Problem was I have, like, twenty of them. I need, like seven. I have only been doing this for a few days, and I see now that I’ve made a funny mistake. I mean, I didn’t spend $350 on scrapbooking stuff. But, I recognize that I’ve hoarded. Not a lot, but still.

The cool thing is, though, that I didn’t have to be TOLD that I had too many. Dh did not like the mess, but that’s just him. I went in a few minutes ago and saw all these boxes and recognized my error. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it, but I’m pretty sure I’m done collecting them.

It’s a new leaf for me. It’s strange to other people who do not deal with mood disorders, or aren’t in a time of hurt or mourning. The “other” think and sometimes say, “Of course you don’t need 20 boxes! Of course you don’t need $$$ of papers and scrapbooking equipment.” Those people are right, but we are not one of those people.

I stated boldly up top that “I’m done collecting them.” I realize I can’t promise that. I’m admist a med change so things might be up and down. I hope not though. I’ve got all of you to attend to, as I promised a devotional a day. I want to be with my family, not in a room full of boxes, under the blankets, cold and homicidal – or worse than that in the hospital near my parent’s house. I’d rather have all my boxes filled with wonderful things for wonderful people. I’d rather be up passing on a glass of wine and eating baklava. My doctor is out of town, so I’ll be doing this with less support than usual, but I will be doing it with the help of my psychologist and my wonderful husband. My mom has done as much as she can to learn about bipolar, but she’s still lost in a lot of ways, and she’ll be there. My dad knows how to comfort me. My brother knows how to straighten me out. I have a team and it is a blessing. I know many of you don’t, and for that I am sad. When you’re meditating on that, please count me on your team.

One thing I’m pretty sure of though: I don’t need anymore boxes. Except big ones.


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