To Trash or Not to Trash?

That is the question of the moment. I've done some cleaning out of shelves and recently came across some ancient items. 

I uncovered among the purse dustbags in my closet a box that I have referred to most of my life as my boy box. In it is all my journals from about the age of 13-19, along with almost every item, letter, card, drawing ever given to me by a member of the opposite sex. It was actually a little fun to sit down and go through some of these things. I had forgotten how many boys I had crushes on between the ages of 15 and 18. I also discovered that my world shattered between those years about seventy-nine and a half times. I didn't think the sun would ever rise again on many occasions. And as I was reading through the pages I found myself smiling, contemplating my daughter's tears one day when her world looks like it will crumble and she won't be able to breath again. I was a little melodramatic during these years. Just a tad.

Interesting to note, one thing which I think has been suppressed in my brain, was that I went through quite the gangsta phase. Yep. I unearthed quite a few index sized cards with my name tagged across them in some metallic paint or markers. I guess I liked the scary dudes at some point. And they tried to impress me with their tagging skills. You'd be surprised how many different ways you can tag the name 'Deborah'. 

Apparently I listened to a lot of Mazzy Star, Fiona Apple and toward the end of those years, Savage Garden. Their music pretty much sums up those years for me. I think for my big infatuations I always assigned a song to 'us'. Whether the boy knew this or not, I have no idea. 

It's a little embarassing that some of the boys I wrote about I can't even remember. I can't place their faces at all. Jane, maybe you can help me out a little here? A Bryce from the OC? Not a clue. But apparently he called a lot, one time I finally had to break it to him that I wouldn't be going to a basketball game with him and that I wasn't that interested. Sorry Bryce, whoever you are. And some guy in Palm Springs when we went there for the weekend? Huh?

It had me thinking, should I really be keeping all this? It's not like I need a storage container to house it. But why do I hold on to it? I think the reasons I came up with is that each part of it represents a little of me, who I was then and how I became who I am now. It was during those formative years of my life that I developed the qualities that I have now. It just somehow feels wrong to throw it all away.

Another reason is that I have this vision of my grown children,and me in a convalescent hospital somewhere, with my memory shot, and they discovering this box somewhere and getting to learn more about mom during the years they didn't know me. I am a little frightened of Greta's discoveries, like, "Mom, you liked HIM? GROSS! He's like 90 years old now and has dentures, how could you have thought he was cute!" It may be a bit scary to hear their reactions to some of these friendships and relationships, but I honestly think they may get a kick out of it. I have to say, I always loved going through my mom's yearbook and reading everything that Rad wrote to her. Sorry, mom, didn't mean to sell you out.

In my last journal it chronicles the trip where I met Aaron. I was laughing hysterically, getting to relive the night we met and how cute I thought his friend was. I thought Aaron had a girlfriend and wrote in my journal that he was one of the nicest guys I had ever met. It is special to me that I have documentation of the first few days I ever met Aaron. It's such a treasure to have all my thoughts about him and who he was, from the first impression to the days that followed. I can't chuck that in the garbage. But if I get rid of everything prior to that, I would just feel like, 'where's the rest of me before that point?' 

I honestly don't think Aaron cares much. Do you babe? And it wouldn't bother me if he had stored old cards or letters from old girlfriends. In fact, I kind of wish he had. It would be neat to get to go through and read a little bit about him before we met. I would get to see if I really knocked his socks off, and once again reinforce how much better I am then them. wink wink.

So, to trash or not to trash? I think at the moment, not. Maybe in 10 years when Greta begins to get boy crazy and stumbles upon this stash and uses this info to justify her own feelings, then I may rethink my decision. But for now, I can't see throwing it away. Am I crazy?

On second thought, don't answer that.