All I want for Christmas...

No, I don't want my two front teeth (although I'm happy I have them), nor do I want a DSI XL (as I think all the kids want...I'm not even sure what that is...a video game?).  I don't even want to gorge myself on baked Christmas goods!  No, all I want are non-material things.  Things I have to give myself, I think.  Now, how do I do that?!

As the end of the year approaches and Christmas is just around the corner, all I can think of possibly wanting for Christmas is to be anxiety-free, if only for one week?  This international move has tested my patience and pushed me further than I ever thought I could push myself.  Very eye opening, and I've not even left the United States yet.  From the realization that I have formed, over the years, a weird attachment to my possessions all the way to being knee deep in immigration paperwork, my anxiety levels continue to climb.

How does someone not form such a weird bond with personal belongings?  All I know is that I've had major mental meltdowns as I've cleaned out my closets, cupboards and drawers at the thought of parting with my stuff.  I know I have to part with some of it...I can only pack and ship so much to Ireland and I can only store so much at my mom's house.  With my brother's stuff, my stuff and my mom's stuff, I'm surprised there is even room to move at my mom's house.  But, its almost impossible to decide what is worthy and what is not worthy of being discarded, shipped or stored.  I've even tried to sell some items on ebay, which I have been successful doing.  I've even coped well with packaging these personal items up and shipping them to complete strangers...well, until this morning.  I sold my DVD player this morning on ebay and nearly cried myself to death thinking of parting with my DVD player!  I mean, seriously, my DVD player?  Even I think this is weird. 

And, my clothes.  All I can think of when I part with my clothes is that I have hundreds of dollars invested in these clothes and now I'm just throwing them out?! I actually find myself apologizing to  my clothes for not thinking they are worthy enough to come with me to Ireland.  Yes, I'm slowly losing my mind I think.

So, Santa Clause, if you can hear me, all I want for Christmas is just one week of pure nothingness--no stress, anxiety or obsessing over my stuff.