I feel as I grow older and ehem, wiser, it’s becoming easier for me to let go. I am coming to my own, embracing what I truly like and not what society or social media thinks I should like. Along with it, the things I’ve consumed before that in reality doesn’t bring me joy, I can now easily determine. In everything, I have a “true love” rule. I will only purchase it or I will only bring it home if I feel it’s true love. If I try on a shirt, and it’s almost perfect except for that one thing — that the sleeves don’t fall at the right length, or the collar doesn’t look flattering — it’s not true love. If it has even one flaw that I have to convince myself to overlook, it’s not true love. I know true love if I see one. Or better yet, if I feel it. I know what I want, and what I want is true love, in all aspects.
I’ve let go of a lot of stuff recently, all of them go to my sisters and my mother and my nieces. I’ve replaced some with new buys, and learned to love what I have kept behind. There will be a point in time in the future where I have a house where it’s just filled with “true love”. Not yet there, but it’s an exciting work in progress.