I’ve had this little vanity table since I was about ten-years-old. I f#*%ing hate this table.
I hate it.
To me it’s more than a table — it is a memory of my childhood in my mother’s house. It used to be in my bedroom.
I cannot really remember or see my bedroom from my childhood. But that table! That damn table … I remember when my mother gave it to me. I hated it then. I hated her. But I kept the damn table and I bit my tongue.
For reasons unknown to me I have carted this table around with me to all of my homes. From the East Coast to the West Coast and back. It’s not even a nice table. It’s a crummy table.
We’d put it in a corner of a room and I’d mutter to my husband under my breath, “I hate that F#%^ing table!”
But we kept it. It’s just a table. Who cares about a table?
It’s been in our garage now for years. Just sitting there with mouse turds on it and cobwebs between its legs. We’d go to get our bikes from the garage and I’d see it. The blood would drain from my legs. Leaving me numb with a knot in my stomach. “I hate you table!”
Monday I saw that table. My husband picked it up and carried it to the side of the road. “We could donate it,” he said. “NO!” I exclaimed. Surprised by my own strong response. “No one can have that table. I hate it.”
“I get it,” he said as he hugged me.
We left it out for trash day on Thursday.
This Wednesday morning my friend walked with me from the bus stop to my house for an espresso and a visit. “Oh! You’re throwing away that table? It’s a nice table.”
“I hate that table!” I growled.
We talked about the table. She knows my story. She holds a space for my healing and recovery. She hates the table too.
“I don’t even like seeing it there. I don’t want anyone to have that table,” I say softly.
Her eyes light up. “I think you should smash that table!”
“Nah. It’s okay. It’s going out in the trash.” And then I look at her with her face glowing and her eyes twinkling with love and bravery and strength.
Together we smash that f#%*ing table to smithereens. We laugh and high-five each other and get teary. We smile at each other when we’re done. Radiant.
I love my friend. I love my husband. I love my little family.
I love you for bearing witness to my story. I love you for waking up each morning and being brave in your own daily living and working hard to be your best authentic self. I am always inspired by you.
I wanted to share this with you today. As I embark on my full day in front of me. Feeling a little lighter. Living in the moment. In the here and now.
Let go of shit that brings you down. Smash tables. If you have something you hate — ditch it. Why keep it? Keep moving ahead. Follow your heart. Honor your truth. Trust your instincts and your inner voice. Set yourself free.