Confessions of a hoarder Collector

How much, exactly, is too much? I mean, is there an actual measureable number? For example, how many bottles of nail polish can you own before you slip over the line of way-too-much?

I wrote about this subject before – about the art of letting go. But somehow I keep coming back to it.

When I was nine, my family packed, sold, and threw away everything we owned and I began a life of travel. We spent a couple of years traveling the country and visiting homes full of stuff. Every home had something different, but they all had lots of stuff on shelves and in boxes. One of my favorite times was when we stayed at a house with a shelf full of Twilight Zone episodes.

Then we lived in France for a year and I discovered a whole new culture of collectors. The French homes I visited seemed to have just as much stuff as the American homes. But I can remember more glitz and sparkle and gold scattered around. That was the year we first realized I needed glasses, so part of it was a bit blurry. That could be why those memories are a bit fuzzy. That, and the fact that everything was so new and different. I had trouble processing and understanding it all.

When we moved to Africa, change was more of a norm for me. I settled into my room in my parents’ house, then I packed a suitcase and moved up north into a dorm room at boarding school. Every trimester, I moved into a different room with a different roommate. We were definitely limited to the amount and types of stuff we could bring with us each time we moved. There were no shelves for knickknacks and extras, though we each had our own dresser for clothes.

I remember being absolutely fascinated when a friend opened an old footlocker at the foot of her bed and showed me that it was full of socks. She had a pair of socks in every color imaginable! I believe that began my collecting phase. (Yes, I’m using the term ‘phase.’ Possibly to convince us all that it was a concrete versus never-ending period of time).

There weren’t a lot of opportunities to go shopping in Africa. You could. It just wasn’t always the simplest of endeavors. We usually found it best to just save up our allowance for the next trip stateside. Then, we’d go SHOPPING. We’d make up for those months and years of not being able to get or have stuff. One summer, I filled a bag with American candy to bring back and share. Another summer, I stocked up on my own sock collection. I also bought a lot of clothes. My brother focused on building up his sneaker collection.

There’s something about not having for a while that makes you want to hold on tightly when you finally do have. My grandmothers both lived through the depression, and I saw it in them, too. One collected shoes, clothes, and food – filling all of the corners and closets in her house with stuff she would never use. The other washed out and reused paper towels and always used both sides of a piece of paper. And I learned something from both of them.

But I’m also learning that letting go is not always scary. And that I don’t need to hold onto things just because I didn’t have them in the past. Sometimes, it’s better to let go of it, because there may be someone else who doesn’t have it now. So, I’ve been working on thinning my collections. Because yes, while it is absolutely essential to have that perfect shade of nail polish, it’s also quite possible that I don’t need every shade of nail polish.

As for how much is too much, I still not quite sure. But I’m happy to report that I am now down to a quite manageable number. I just counted – after thinning out my collection, I’m down to only 118 bottles of nail polish.

Now to tackle the books…