Casmin Week 2: Addiction
In the days of my youth, I was always fond of collecting little trinkets and jewelry. My all-time favorites were the handmade bracelets, shiny and vibrant plastics laced through transparent string. Even though my parents urged me that these items were nearly worthless, they held a special place in my heart. I remember storing my goodies in a large pink box, embroidered with pink on top of pink flowers and glitter. It even had its own lock and opened up like a book, revealing all of my precious findings. I always gazed at them pridefully like a fisherman looking at his caught fish for the day. Even until very recently, I still had possession of that pink box until it was unfortunately taken away against my will. Looking back, I wondered: Why were the items I collected so valuable to me at that moment, and why did I keep them for such a long time?
I wholeheartedly believe in the fact that childhood habits and the way someone was raised will determine the majority of how they will live the rest of their lives. I always noticed these subtle things about my childhood friends: the way they smile or get upset over specific things because they were taught a certain way by their parents or environment. I argue that my childhood habits are where I got my hoarding addiction from at the ripe old age of 6. Little Casmin was always a curious child, and her possessions in her small box were really all she had to her name. When I started getting older, the hobbies of my childhood still carried on, but the only difference was that I had more liberal control of what I wanted to own. I had money. The concept of money will never cease to amaze me. So what I’m understanding is that with this tiny piece of green paper, I have the power to acquire any item? What intrigued me the most about money was the fact that it could be in endless forms. A figurine? Certainly. A burger? Definitely. Happiness? Uh…
Even though I don't own or actively search for the same cheap materials I enjoyed during my childhood, they still are with me at the literal price of my wallet. Today, my room is concerningly filled with what seems like "trash" to an average observer, but I cherish every item I have even if I don’t quite enjoy them or the media behind them as much anymore. From posters to figurines to pins and stickers, I could go on. But it’s not the fact that I enjoy them as they are, I hoard them. Why? Perhaps it’s how I reflect on my old phases, whether they be extremely cringey or nostalgic. It allows me to connect with her, and share the same experiences with her; though one of us never seems as passionate as the other. Perhaps the reason why I hoard all of my items is not because of the items themselves, but because they shape each and every part of my identity today.
I can totally relate to hoarding worthless items—I think I have a similar habit; random trinkets from years back are shoved into the back of one of my drawers somewhere. Perhaps more prevalent is my habit of gathering hundreds of Safari tabs on my phone. At one point, I had even reached the max (500) number of tabs you could have open on one window. I thought that even though I wasn’t currently using it, I could still find a use for it someday. What if, years down the line, I needed to read some article on how buttresses are constructed? By closing a tab, I could be ruining my life and not knowing it! It’s something I’ve definitely been trying to fix, but old habits die hard, and I’m not certain I want to end it. It’s really interesting to consider that what we hoard inadvertently becomes part of who we are.
ReplyDeleteHi Casmin! I completely agree with the belief that one’s upbringing is a major factor in shaping their future habits, whether that be through their childhood habits, likes and dislikes, or the relationships that they form. On the topic of hoarding, my friend and I were actually discussing something similar the other day. We both used to collect stickers when we were little—the kind that you have to actually peel the backing off to use, so using them always felt like such a huge sacrifice. We saved them and saved them for the “perfect occasion” that somehow never arrived, and to this day, those stickers are sitting comfortably in a little box in my desk drawer. Thinking about that always makes me smile a little, because it reminds me of a time when my biggest worry was those stickers and nothing else. Looking back, I think that we hoard for bigger reasons than the value of the items themselves, because we recognize that those items represent parts of ourselves that we’re not necessarily ready to let go of.
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