I had an experience today and I'm thinking you guys can relate. I made myself totally depressed and mostly I just need to write it out. This might be kind of long, my apologies in advance.
So I am a garage sale fanatic. I freaking love buying useful, cool stuff for way cheap. Getting a bargain gives me a rush. My dad and my grandma are hoarders, and although I try very hard not to be a hoarder, I definitely do get a thrill from finding something I need/want for like 50 cents or a buck at a garage sale. Obviously I live somewhere cold & snowy half the year, so I haven't been to a garage sale since summer ended, and I've been kind of in withdrawal.
I've been going to thrift & consignment shops regularly but it's not quite the same. I got desperate, so today I went to an estate sale.
If you don't know, an estate sale is where someone has died and their stuff didn't go to any heirs or they didn't have a will or whatever, so their estate sells off all their belongings at basically garage sale prices (sometimes a little more expensive, but the stuff also tends to be nicer). And it's held in the house of the person whose estate it is. So basically, you go to a dead person's house and pick through everything they owned and maybe buy some of it. It feels so strange and intrusive to me. This was, in a way, a person's whole life - their home and all of their belongings. It's pretty morbid. And it can be so depressing.
I remember, I went to an estate sale about a year ago and it made me so depressed. The woman whose estate it was, they said she died of colon cancer and she wasn't that old. Well, being (probably) an IBD'er, I know my risk of colon cancer is higher than that of the average person, plus there's a history of colon cancer in my family. So I started comparing myself to the person whose estate it was, and I still think of her sometimes, particularly when I use the little blue bowl that I bought from her estate. I know, it's stupid and weird maybe to think of a person who I never met and didn't know, but in a little way at least she was like me. So then the mind jumps to, maybe I could die like she did, and then people would be nosing around all my stuff, and how depressing would that be!
So the estate sale I went to today was even worse I think in terms of how depressed I became and how much I could relate to the dead woman whose stuff I was perusing. Her bookshelf revealed to me that she leaned politically the same way I do. Her clothes revealed she had awesome style and wore a similar size to me. Her basement was FULL of crafting supplies and multiple sewing machines and tons of fabric (*I* have multiple sewing machines and tons of fabric too!). Her clothes seemed to indicate she wasn't very old, she had some very stylish and cute, modern stuff. So I started wondering, how did she die - was she sick? Then something on her bookshelf confirmed it - I saw a book called "The Lupus Book." Oh, so I'm presuming she had Lupus - that must have been horrible. I don't know if that's what killed her, but she was a chronically ill person like me. Just based on her stuff, I related a lot to her - she was crafty, cool, and chronically ill. Like me. And again I started thinking, what if this was my house? Someday it probably will be. How weird and sad it would be for strangers to pick through my life's collection of stuff and make judgments about me and what kind of person I was. Like that's all you are when you die, is just stuff (and presumptions based off of said stuff), and anyone who shows up to buy your stuff can have it. It's hard to put into words, it's just seriously depressing.
I'm not going to go to any more estate sales, I just can't handle it. At garage sales, it's a living person selling you their unwanted stuff, which is way different than a sell-off of everything that was owned by someone who died. There's no emotional component, at garage sales they want to get rid of it but at estate sales I think the person who owned the stuff would object to a lot of it being sold. Looking at the lady's jewelry at the estate sale today, I couldn't help but think that she wouldn't want to get rid of her stuff to just anybody if she had any say in the matter (she had some gorgeous stuff). I felt guilty about buying one of her necklaces, and I'm sure I'll think of her when I wear it. Maybe that's a good thing? Maybe being remembered is the best thing you can hope for when you die? I didn't know her but I feel connected now. I also feel sad. I feel like I'm not properly conveying my emotions, but I hope this all made sense. No more estate sales for Cat because they apparently just wreck me and make me think about what will happen when I die and they also make me sad for and relate to total strangers. Ugh.