"Transitional Objects"

[Brigid]

(((((((2 cents))))))))

I'm glad to see you sharing some of your own "stuff" since you have always been of help to others.

You are so young to be so wise.  You must have worked hard to get to where you are and I have faith that hard work will pay off in eventually settling your life.  

I don't think we can recreate the items of value from our youth or adulthood for that matter.  Items must have intrinsic value and simply replacing them will never be the same.  As your life finds its path, new items will become valuable to you for different reasons.  

I'm sorry for how your father treated your mother's death.  I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for you as an adolescent for him to have "dumped" it on you.

When you're comfortable, keep sharing your story.  We'll be here for you.

Bless you,

Brigid

[October]

I am a lover of all things old.  Have an old  house, similar to one I grew up in.  Even as a child, new houses left me cold.  Like antiques, all things Victorian, 50's memorabilia, Indian artifacts.  History in general.  I do seem to have some longing for the past but it is beyond my lifespan so not sure where it comes from

This resonates with me.  I love Victorian houses, and want to own one one day; preferably three stories, with attics and a cellar as well.  Memories of visiting my grandparents and great aunt in their massive Victorian mansions. (Just terraces, really, but they seemed huge and palatial somehow, to tiny me, and I want one!!!!   )

I share this feeling of many here, that if something works, why replace it?  And if something is old, it has a value way beyond monetary price.

What is that old saying about knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing?  Perhaps we are the other way round; we know the value of provenance, and care nothing about the price.  And by keeping nana's old brooch, which is worth nothing at all to anyone else, I keep a part of her alive.  Because I value something which she valued, that means I value her too.

[October]

I've still got the mug.

I've tried buying stuff (like books) that I had when I was a kid, but it's not the same. I'm not really into receiving gifts either...

Sorry for the looooooooong raaaaaaaamble but I guess it's about the feelings that stuff represents. Thanks for starting this thread and letting me get some "stuff" of my chest,

2cents

I'm glad you kept the mug.  And I am really sorry about all your possessions from years ago.  I agree with you that you cannot recreate or retrieve these things, but perhaps you could write more about them.  See how many of the books you can remember, and what was in them, and describe them in detail.  Just to show that in a way they are still with you.

My brother is obsessive about throwing away anything that is either connected to the past or else broken.  He 'encouraged' me to throw away all my childhood diaries one time, and I let him do it.  I have always regretted that.  Another part of me sent to the tip.     I used to keep photographs in them, and mementos of one kind or another, and wrote a page every day for years and years, including at the time my nana died.  All the memories were there.  One of the photographs was of our great grandmother, and I have not seen another copy since, so it has gone, I am afraid.  Stupid really.  And he made our parents throw away  his old carry cot from when he was a baby.  I regret that loss too.  It couldn't have been used now, because it would  not be safe enough, I suppose, but it could have been kept.  I did it to make my brother happy.  He wanted me to prove that the past was gone and didn't matter.

I think this is a reaction against my Nmum, who is a hoarder, and keeps everything, which seems to be how she tries to find love or satisfaction or fulfillment somehow.  It gives her a thrill for a short time to buy something, especially if she gets it cheap and can believe she has robbed or cheated or got a bargain somehow from someone else.  There is a  strong element of oneupmanship in her acquisitions.  So my brother wanted to be different, and so threw stuff away.

Now he has a home of his own, however, it is strange to see he has started some collections of his own.  Vintage toys and train sets.  Weird.

[P]

Oh good God October, your diaries, I'm so sorry, I can't imagine that loss, all those precious words. I'm horrified. All the words. Criminal damage, you know what I mean, your words from the past are ------- beyond precious.

If it helps, I burned all my diaries at 16 and started new ones. I chose, but I still regret it.

And your brother sounds really quite unwell. Extreme. I'm sorry. portia

[October]

And your brother sounds really quite unwell. Extreme. I'm sorry. portia

You are right that he is unwell, Portia, although I would probably say damaged.  Sometimes I think he is worse affected than I am, but he manages to keep his life and job going fine, whereas I am not able to.  But I am more open to learn and discover the hidden skeletons in the family cupboard, which he wants to keep firmly shut, of course.

Before then, when I wrote the diaries, he used to look for them and read them.  No matter how well I hid them, he would always find them.  He said that if I was writing about him and the rest of the family, then he had the right to read what I said about him, and so he always did.  So that stopped me being honest and open, like you need to be in a diary, and that took a lot of the fun out of it.  I had some good friends at school who did the same, with a large page a day diary each.  It was just something that kids do, but it was spoiled for me in the end.  And then he wanted me to throw them away, so I did.  I had written a journal on a school exchange trip to France as well, for which I won a prize, because it was the best one.  That went out too.  I should have said no, but I think I was trying to prove to him that I was not a hoarder like my mum.  

He never likes talking about the past, or old photographs or anything.  To him it is gone, and forgotten.  Except of course, it never is really.

[Bliz]

I think I find history soothing on some level.  My father's parents were older when they had the kids, so technically they really were from the Victorian era.  Living in an area with many old houses. draws me to them all the time.  I have the old jewelry of several aunts, great aunts, grandmothers etc.  I have a lot of old furniture.  Thank God, a lot of my brothers like modern so there generally is no quibbling about these items.  

I have ofthen attempted to interpret my draw to all things old but have never truly been able to analyze it.  It is almost a spiritual thing.  And here is where it gets really freaky.  On at least one occasion I have had a "vision" or awake dream, (not sure what exactly to call it) involving older, (dead) relatives or friends. IF anyone is interested I will tell.  Maybe others have had similar experiences or a new thread(?)

[OR]

Blitz, in reply about dead relatives and all things from the past.

I enjoy geneology and have recently received some pictures of my GGrandparents. I love the family pictures of the 20's;the clothes were very cool. My Grandmother died when I was 1yr old. Pictures are the only way I will know them.

I will never forget the night before my aunt died I had a dream about her.(looking as a young woman she had red hair, this is why I knew it was her)in the dream she was letting me know her tired body needed to move on. She was walking down a hall opened the door transfered from her young self to her now older body.
I got the phone call early morning she had died in her sleep. I cried when I got the phone call because it freaked me out how the dream was so vivid in my mind. Most dreams I can't remember the next day, but some dreams I never forget.

I do feel like sprits are around me I don't know if they are dead relatives or not but I often wonder if sprits are just any sprits or the family members that have some connection to us.

I love this stuff and find it to be a special part of my life.


OR

[Bliz]

Wow, the dream is pretty powerful.

The following event happened regarding a next door neighbor I was very close to growing up.  

About ten years ago, I had gone to a baseball game with my nieces.  When I came home I was really tired.  I was lying on the bed watching the three tenors sing.  Pavoratti, (sp?) was singing "Ave Maria".  I wasnt asleep although suddenly a video like thing was running through my head, while he was singing, "Ava Maria".  

It was like watching a  silent movie.  Two young adult girls, or maybe teen-agers, in early 1900's attire, were kind of playing, chasing each other,  back and forth in the hallway of an older Victorian style house.  It was herky, jerky, like a silent movie.  I didnt know what to make of it and just said to myself, "well enjoy the ride" so as to not disturb this event.  

The next day I found out this believed naighbor had been dying that night.  I didnt know it.  I am sure in some way she was tyring to reach me.  She had a sister, who I belive was still alive at that time.  They lived in a very old house growing up which would have fit the description.

Prety freaky.  Just in case you wonder, I don't drink or take mind altering drugs.  Looks like I dont need them.