When Thoughts No Longer Serve You

When I got a new refrigerator, I vowed it would not become a pinboard for coupons, appointment reminders, invitations, and cards.

But earlier this week, as I hand-washed a few dishes, I noticed that the front and side of my stainless steel ice box had become overrun with little slips of paper. At first, I tried to space things out evenly — one item per magnet — but that method didn’t last long. 

Now, I have two or three buy-one-get-one free Jersey Mike’s coupons held in the same clip. One magnet struggles to hold both my and my husband’s dental appointment reminder cards. There’s at least one expired ACE Hardware coupon up there and some Harry Potter magnets of unknown origin. 

The fridge has become a catch-all for things that don’t really have a home but I don’t want to forget. God forbid I lose my Barnes & Noble gift card with $2.16 remaining. I might be able to get a bookmark with that. 

My husband cleaned out his tool box a few days ago. When we first got married, we lived in a white, gabled apartment with maroon shutters. There was a cul-de-sac at the front of the complex with a trash compactor that seemed to jam more often than compact, so there was always a pile of garbage and other discarded items fanning out from the trash chute. 

We found many treasures in front of the compactor—a Swiffer, a pair of end tables, and a red metal toolbox full of miscellaneous tools. It lived on the shelf above the washer and dryer in our laundry closet and was only opened on the rare occasion we needed to assemble a piece of IKEA furniture—until we moved into our house. 

Now, tools are out of the box more often than they are stowed away. Between replacing the water supply lines, updating the light fixtures, hanging photos and artwork, and installing this and that, the basement filled with tools and hardware.

A few weeks ago, nearly five years after saving the tool box from the trash compactor, my husband sorted through it.

There was a little bit of everything in the box—hand tools; miscellaneous nails, screws, and fasteners; brackets; and other pieces of hardware that had likely come in a pack that contained more than the previous owner needed for their project, so they’d been tossed in the bin.

My husband kept the tools that were in good condition and discarded all the random hardware into our scrap metal bucket. He carefully placed his tools in the box, slapped a sticker over a spot of rust eating through the side, and stored it on one of our work tables. 

He remarked feeling lighter knowing he didn’t have a box of random stuff taking up space in the basement. He could actually use the tool box now, too. Besides, if he ever needed something specific for a project, he would probably run to the store and buy it rather than digging through the basement in hopes of finding two matching brackets or hinges. 

Sorting Our Thoughts

This exercise got me thinking. The papers on the fridge got me thinking, too. 

What am I holding on to that I don’t even realize I’m holding on to? Physical objects and emotional luggage. 

If I look at the pinboard of my brain, there are so many things tacked up in there that don’t need to be taking up space—worries, mostly. 

Sometimes, I think if I worry about something enough, I’ll be able to prevent it from happening or prepare myself for it if it does happen. If I keep reminding myself to think about these things, I’ll be better able to face them when they eventually come to fruition, whether they are based in truth or rooted in fear. 

I know this is irrational thinking — I can no easier predict the future and prepare for it than will myself to fly, but I try anyway.

Thoughts flow through our minds like an endless stream of ticker tape. It’s impossible for us to stop them, but sometimes, as we watch them fly by, we pluck some out of the line and assign them special meaning. These thoughts are pinned up on the bulletin board of our brain. Some are helpful and some are not. 

I took a few minutes to sort through the items on my fridge. At least a few of the coupons had expired, so I pulled those down. There were also a few bills up there that had already been paid, so I removed those as well. And while my fridge isn’t as bare as I wanted it to be, it only includes the essentials (where else am I going to put my dental appointment reminder cards?). 

I try to do the same with my thoughts. What am I spending most of my mental energy on? Is there anything I’m holding on to that I don’t need to be? Worrying about things I cannot change or control just takes up space in my mind and crowds out the important things. 

While I have not yet perfected this practice, I try to get a little better each day. And like my husband after cleaning out his toolbox, I feel that lightness. There’s more room for joy and hope and creativity when I’m not holding on to thoughts that no longer serve me.