Decluttering

My wardrobe is a mess. Has been for a few weeks now and every weekend, amongst other things, I add “declutter wardrobe'' to my Todoist. Sleep, laziness and groove no go let me tick am off. Hopefully, this weekend is the weekend. Amen.

I know that there are things in there that probably need to go. I don't really have a need for them but these things have come to mean more to me than what they independently represent. Things that comfort me, things that make me laugh, things that have the potential to make me cry. I’m a sentimental person and somehow, some people don't see it. For which I’m grateful. (erase this line from your head once you’re done reading this. Wickedness is my preferred brand).

But yh, this decluttering, It's also about my mind. There are things, songs, places that I have attached to certain people (as most people do). People who are still ‘here’, people who have left ‘here’, people who are still ‘here’ but not in the way that they once were. My people.

Things like my dad’s ID card from his time working at the bank. I carry it around in my wallet. My name isnt C.O Ogbonnaya so obviously I don't need it for any real reason but carrying it around makes me feel like I'm carrying him around with me. On some days I have looked at it and cried, on some others I have looked at it and laughed. My dad was a funny guy, but he was also my father whom I lost so of course it's laughter or tears depending on the day. I like that I have the luxury of being able to remember him so fondly. I’ll keep the ID card.

A thing like Atican beach that lives rent free in my head. I'm not sure that I can go to this beach without having flashbacks of the time me and a lover sat in one of those uncomfortable ‘cabbana-lite’ things and talked endlessly about other people at the beach, doing beach things. These flashbacks make me happy because I was truly happy in those moments but also they make me sad because I hadn't prepared like I thought I had for the ending. This isn't like the ID card that I can simply throw away. On some days I'm sure I want to let go of these memories and on some others I'm sure they are a very important part of the fabric of the friendship I now have with this “lover”. I guess the jury is still out on this one.

A thing like my grandmother's rosary ring. My mother's mum died last year and although she was my favorite grandma and we had a cordial relationship, I didn't think I'd mourn her as deeply as I did. It was truly surprising to me. The night my cousin Chizaram gave me the news, I sat on the stairs in my house and wept intensely. I was shocked. I cried and cried for days. How grief chooses to reveal itself is a very strange thing. I say this because my father who was my ‘G’ died and I couldn't muster a drop of tears until a few months after his funeral, mama dies and I came completely undone instantly. I love them both differently and mama a bit distantly. So why the waters flowed so freely for mama and not my daddy is something curious indeed. We went for her funeral and I came back to lagos with her teal cardigan and her rosary ring. I don't wear the ring everyday and I mostly wear the cardigan on cold nights or at the cinemas but I like that I have them. I feel a lot closer to her now that she's gone, more than when she was alive. I'll keep them both; The ring and the cardigan.

A thing like a white tee shirt I ‘obtained’ from a ‘man’ on what was for me, one of the best sunday nights of the year. It's ‘white white, you won with that one’ is how he described this ‘obtaining’. I’ll keep this shirt not only because I'm deeply fond of this man but because with him I'm able to escape my actual life which is on more days than I'd like to admit ---- desperately trying to kill me. It’s nice that I feel these tiny pockets of joy on days I pick out this tee from my wardrobe. Thank you ‘man’

Things like the songs ‘High’ by Shaydee that remind me of my friend Wonuola and ‘own it’ by Drake that remind me of Yemisi. These babes and these songs mark a sort of coming of age  period for me. I met them in what was my most fun year in uni. A year filled with jams, laughter, banter and sisterhood. I always have these two songs on all my playlists and on days I'm doubting my status as a bad bitch, I play these songs which carry in their rhythm; the sound of my girls reminding me that I'm the shit.

I started this out talking about decluttering and taking stuff out and have now only spoken of stuff I don't intend to take out. Lol. What did I start this out going for? I'm not sure anymore but what i'm sure of is that I've exhausted all the mush I have in me for the rest of the year in this piece. Sorry to my men.  X.

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