I was out watering my plants this morning, when it hit me like a ton a bricks: I have a problem letting go.
I know. Clearly, they are all dead. This is not a surprise to me. They’ve been dead for a long time. But I continue to water them, in hopes that by some miracle a leaf or even a bloom will appear on any of these plants.
The tall plant is named Lola. I bought her last summer from Whole Foods, on a particularly sad day after we cancelled the wedding. I remember walking through Whole Foods, feeling lost, when I came to the floral department. “I need something to love,” I told the florist. Yeah, I’m that girl. She assured me that this gardenia plant would be easy to take care of, and would produce beautiful fragrant blooms all summer. When I bought Lola, she had a dozen blooms and was stunning. “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl,” I sang the whole way home from the store, Lola bouncing happily on my back seat.
By August she died. She’s looked like this ever since.
The small plant on the left is a tulip plant that Chef bought me a few months ago. The yellow tulips bloomed once, and proceeded to die as well. I didn’t even have time to name him (although I did decide it was a him). The center little plant is Lexie, a mini rose plant which my friend gave me at a pool/housewarming party I had last summer. I think that Lexie survived two weeks under my cruel, plant killing hands.
The plant on the right that never even made it from the bulb stage was given to me by my friend Becky. She gave me this kit where you plant the bulbs and they miraculously turn into beautiful flowers. She told me it was super easy, the kit came with everything I needed and the flowers grew really fast. I was super intimidated, having never planted anything in my life (outside of middle school science class!). So, I did the natural thing, and put it off for like a month. And then when I went to plant the bulbs, I realized I didn’t have any soil. “Jesus, Becky!” I thought. “You told me this kit had everything I needed! Now I have to buy soil?!” Good thing I finally realized that this little disk that was included in the kit, about the size of a thick coaster, was the soil. You just had to add water and the compacted soil would expand into enough soil with which to plant. It’s a crazy cool concept … here’s a video of a similar product:
Needless to say, the bulbs never grew. It was sad times in the Gryp household.
Every week, I find myself watering these clearly dead plants, not wanting to let go of the hope that they may someday come back to life.
It got me thinking of some other things of which I can’t seem to let go:
Old pairs of jeans – I seem to think that someday I may actually be a size 3-4 again. When in reality, I probably couldn’t fit one thigh into those jeans. But these are from the lean times. Not lean, like I didn’t have money, but lean, like I didn’t eat. It was the end of high school, and after years of being picked on about my weight and going through a sad breakup, I mostly stopped eating. I ate fruit and yogurt, and that was about it. I distinctly remember being 17 years old and buying a size 3-4 at Express. This was after years of buying jeans in the double digits, and at least a year where I had to shop at a specialty store for plus sizes. The day I bought the 3-4s was the best day ever. You’d think I’d won the lottery, I was so happy. The only thing that dampened my joy was that I was hungry as crap. Needless to stay, when I started eating like a normal person again, my jean size slowly creeped up, and now I’m the happy owner of several pairs of jeans that chronicle my journey through pants sizes.
- Old pairs of shoes – I have a ton of shoes, that while still really nice and cute (or so I think), I’ve walked in them so much that the metal in the heel is exposed, making that really annoying clicking noise when I walk on anything but carpet. Which wouldn’t be so bad, if I wasn’t a disproportionate walker, with the right shoe having exposed metal and left shoe in perfect condition. Which creates a “weird click … normal step … weird click … normal step” sound when I walk on hardwoods. No shoes are cute enough to justify that. Why do I keep these shoes? Because I am convinced that someday, I will take them to be repaired, and I will be the proud owner of a whole new shoe collection.
- Everything in this closet – Do not ask me what’s in this closet. It’s scary. Remember how Monica on Friends was a clean freak but had one crazy closet? This is mine. I keep my house very clean, but it’s misleading, because all my crap and clutter (and I’m sure a few treasures) somehow end up in this closet. Note the exercise ball, which I probably haven’t used since I fit into my old jeans.
- The box – This Victoria’s Secret box holds all the memorabilia from my relationship with my ex fiancé. It’s stuffed with cards, wine corks, even the toilet paper roll I stole from the hotel at which we stayed for our first anniversary. The worst part of this box is this balloon he gave me for Valentine’s Day a few years ago. The balloon has a recorder in it, where he taped a song for me. Well, if I accidentally even kick the box, I can hear my ex fiancé singing me a silly song saying he loves me and Happy Valentine’s Day. Why do I keep this box? Because I simply can’t force myself to get rid of it. And perhaps it’s representative, in a way, of the difficulty I’m having letting go of the relationship itself.
Gosh, this list could go on forever. From my gym membership that I use like once a month to the fact that I still have all my wedding folders and files (as though my ex and I might pick up right where we left off and decide to get married), to old friendships that no longer feel relevant, there are so many things in my life that I hold on to because I’m not ready to let go.
What are you holding onto?