I went through my closets and pulled out my prized possessions - several very expensive dress suits that I looked hot in and worked hot in. When I put one of these power suits on, it was like putting on armor. I grew. I flew. I was Power Jeanie, Secretary Extraordinaire. I swear that I could type faster, think sharper, and could toss the grammar book down the elevator shaft because my power suit was ON. People looked at me in awe - I was that good. A professional secretary with crisp lines, brain at snap attention, focus on the prize - a job well done by a super human machine.
I gave them away today to a sweet friend (thank you so much, Ginny) who will delegate them out to a women's transition group where women are stepping back in to the work force.
My very first reaction to watching my suits roll out the door was to sob! I think one of those suits was still wearing my heart on its sleeve. And then there was the huge relief of letting go of one more thing to make a decision about. It's done. I have one more task done. I need a personal coordinator. That brought another sob.
O boy - this business of cleaning house and paring down my stuff to a manageable small pile is just so emotional!
And I haven't even tried to tackle the prized possessions of thousands of books. All books I have read. All books I plan to read again. All mine, mine, mine. All real - no Kindle here. All made of paper and ink. All dog-eared and comfortable in my hands. All alive with characters and adventures and mysteries.