Belongings of a past life

My garage was the main entrance to my home. As I would climb out of my vehicle, I would feel a small part of my energy begin to drain. Next stop, my kitchen. 

The draws and cupboards laden with items from my once wifely entertainer's life. Items left unused gathering dust and only shuffled about to get to what I needed. I had no desire to create culinary masterpieces for one, and my cooking would only be at is greatest upon my sons’ arrival home from University.

Having little inspiration for any meaningful cooking, I would meander to my living room with the thought of relaxing. Decorated with my loved artwork and bulky black furniture pieces that overpowered the room. I would crash on the couch, flick the television on and feel the weight of my unharmonious living space making it a challenge for me to get up go to bed.

Climbing the stairs in trepidation of a nights sleep that would come and go like the buses outside my house, I would collapse into bed in front of my wardrobe jammed packed with clothes and a shoe collection big enough to dress ten government departments. A constant reminder of my past life in full view, beauty sleep was not forthcoming.

Four years had passed, with spikes of lacking energy and the odd health issue. I could never understand why I wasn't jumping out of my skin 24 / 7 or why I didn’t have the desire to do so.

The evidence life couldn't keep going on like this was mounting up…. like my clutter of a past life.

The first thing that I needed to tackle was…. Who am I now?

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