The Desire to Hold On

We cling to old memories in many ways— we hold on to objects, mementos, photos, and digital items. However, beyond physically holding onto these items, we hold on to them in our minds as well. We cling to the past, ignore the present and worry about the future. I had a friend tell me once that those who live in the future are anxious and those who live in the past are full of regret. I will be the first to admit that I am guilty of both of these. I have always been a planner, an idealist, and have always imagined how my life could be. And while one the one hand, this method of thinking can serve me and help me feel prepared, it can also make me incredibly anxious because I am perpetually thinking ahead rather than existing in and appreciating the present. Additionally, I tend dwell on the past. I will look at old photos or think about things I have done in the past, regretful, wishing I had done something different, done more, so that I could be further ahead than where I am now.

Neither of these mentalities serve me or make me feel good about myself. In order to remedy the anxiety and regret that come from these cyclical thoughts, I must intentionally ground myself in the present because, when I dwell on what is, rather than on what could be or could have been, feel more in control, grounded, and, most importantly, more content.

So, what does this have to do with the things we own? Our things are the physical representation of our thoughts. If holding on to things intentionally can make us appreciative and hopeful, then holding onto things simply because we already have them can fill us with anxiety and regret after a while. We hold on to things and call them “sentimental” in an effort to cling to the past, which, if we’re honest we lived about as fully as we're living in the present. I have never been an overly sentimental person, but that does not mean I have not kept sentimental items. Most of the ones that I keep now, I keep because they actually mean something to me and because I enjoy them. But this was not always true. I used to keep many things. movie tickets, notes, souvenirs, as well as every card that I received— for birthdays, Valentine’s day, graduations etc.— not because I actually enjoyed looking at them, but because they represented a person or an experiences and were, therefore, sentimental, and therefore, something to keep.

My parents both have a drawer each filled with cards they’ve received. My grandmother, too, has kept years of cards from every holiday. She recently re-gifted us all the cards she’s received over the years. My father put his stack straight into his card drawer. I threw mine away. When I was younger, I also would have kept them, but at some point in my late teens, I began to recognize what I was actually trying to do with my sentimental items— I was trying to demonstrate that I had people who cared about me, not just family, but friends. Most of my sentimental items were simply there to prove that, in that moment, I had not been alone. My middle school experience was very rocky and I often felt alone; like I had no friends, and so, to compensate, to prove to myself that I mattered, I kept every memento that I could. But as I progressed through high school, embraced my weirdness and felt more confident being by myself, I did not need those mementos to show me that I had friends. I knew that I had people when I needed them. And as for the cards that my grandma returned to me, I was able to throw them away because I know that I love her and value every moment with her. And those moments, and the memories of them, cannot be held in a stack of Hallmark cards. Even now, I think about the mementos I have left, the cards and objects and I ask myself why I keep them; whether I am holding on to them because they actually mean something to me, or because I like the idea that someone once cared for me.

I doubt that everyone keeps “sentimental” items for the reason that I once did. Nonetheless, as we look through our sentimental possessions, it is important to ask ourselves why we are keeping these things— if the answer is truly that it brings me value and makes me happy, then of course it is good to keep that item. However, if those truly meaningful items are mixed in among the ones that we have kept simply because we feel we should, or, even worse, ones that are masquerading as sentimental items, but actually remind of painful parts of our past that we have since outgrown, maybe it is better to let them go.

On the one hand, we hold on to items because we fear letting go of the past, even the parts of it that may be painful, but we also hold onto things in an effort to affect the future. We have all held onto those “just in case items” and we continue to hold onto them, even if they don’t actually serves us. Letting go of these items means admitting that you will probably never do that thing you once wanted to do. To let go of the item represents letting go of some sort of potential or something that we could have been; an artist, a cook, well-read.

I studied art in school, and I am constantly trying to dive back into a consistent pattern of creating rather than sporadic bursts of creativity. I have a plethora of art supplies split between my current apartment and my parents’ house. During the summer of 2020, I decided to sort through all of my art supplies while staying with my parents. At that point I assumed that I would soon be moving abroad indefinitely, so I was being more ruthless than usual. I sold all of my painting supplies— acrylics, canvases, most of my brushes, and various other supplies. Why? Because I finally gave myself permission to. I hadn’t used my acrylics, in earnest, since two years prior and I had a variety of other media like watercolors and bookmaking materials that I preferred to the acrylics. I let go of the notion that I needed to hold onto my paints because I would definitely (probably) use them again someday. I am almost certain that I will use acrylics again one day; I do enjoy them. But when the time comes, I will purchase fresh paints, in my preferred colors, rather than dig into my supplies only to find all my paints, except for the phthalo green, have dried up. I released my expectations on myself of what I should be doing as an artist and instead focused on what I wanted now and could visualize wanting in the foreseeable future. And in doing so I saved myself some space and made a bit of cash.

Letting go of my paints does not make me any less of an artist and more than letting go of cards makes me less loved. I simply defined what kind of art I truly wanted to make in this moment and passed on the supplies that didn’t serve that artist to someone else. When we let go of the vision of what we think we should be, we allow ourselves to be honest and pursue what we actually want to be. Our possessions reflect who we think we are, who we were and who we want to be. When you start to understand who you want to be right now, rather than who you feel you should be, you are free to then declutter and discard the representations of what others may have expected of you and what you expect of yourself. Once you physically and mentally release these expectations, you slowly begin to connect with who you truly want to be.