“I am in the process of downsizing. It may take nearly a year as I am having a new place remodeled. So, I have been slowly going through my papers and photos. What I struggle with, and what is taking so much of my time, is sorting through each and every piece and wondering just how much of these I need to, or should, keep to pass along. Saving certain cards or documents means I’ll have to explain myself, perhaps even justify some of my decisions. At what point in this downsizing is it right to choose to let things go in the trash to remain private?”

G: This may depend on how you like to walk through the world. Do you want to keep lugging around the full Samsonite set of memories or do you want to leave a much lighter emotional footprint, or not one at all? To some, holding onto things that have outlasted their usefulness is unkind as it causes those around you to complete a complicated job. It also actually makes them leave their present to be sent back in time to yours.

The work of sorting requires they step out of their world and trip over material that can be hard to process because your saved memories may open up myriad questions. Some they may never get complete answers to. This is what happens with any of our belongings that hold even a whiff of mystery. Written words and photos leave a lot up in the air, creating confusion or disappointment. Why do that?

Some of my readers who are invested in genealogy may argue that looking back is one of the ways to put an extra exclamation mark on the moment, or on a life. But looking back can also indicate we are never fully living in our present time. Holding on to things of the past, even digging up documents of our ancestry, may enthrall us as we compile them, but have scant meaning to others. We may think those who love us are interested, but often the level of their passion or fixation is much less than our own.

What is reflected in our things will never completely fill in the blanks. Having others sift through them can end up being a burden rather than a joyful discovery. Consider having a conversation with those closest to you to find out how much they really want any of your stuff. Inquire as to how much they want to know about these other parts of your life. You may be surprised that they are too busy to get deep into your weeds.

Downsizing, as I have done numerous times with my partner due to career moves, can be a unique way of self-discovery, and a process of learning how to gracefully say farewell. I am reminded of a former lover who pointed out to me that whenever we parted, I would just say my goodbye, then turn and walk away without ever once looking back at him. Apparently, he was used to lingering goodbyes, where the one walking or driving away would stop, turn and wave and wave some more, and maybe another few times. I was unaware this was my pattern. It was eye opening to see myself through his eyes.

What seemed to matter to him, and maybe this is more common than I realized, was a sense of extending the feeling that we didn’t want to part. I never saw my own behavior as rude because that is not how I felt. For me, a quick pivot wasn’t cold. Saying adieux was simply about being finished with that one moment in time, and then moving on to what the next moment required. This is how I feel about most greeting cards; once I’ve read the message, I don’t have an impulse to hold on to them for long.

In considering my pattern, I recognized that for much of my life I have looked forward to whatever the next thing was. This was driven by the need to not look back. Why? Because for me, looking back usually meant it would be accompanied by a sad or unpleasant feeling, or that heavy ache of letting go. Looking ahead usually brought a happier, uplifting energy to me. Looking back has always felt like a way of holding myself down.

To let go of some of your things can be a gift of freedom that you give to yourself. I am not suggesting you totally erase your memories in the process. What is an option is deciding not to linger too long in them. Sort of like how I say goodbye, by marking the moment in time and moving ahead.

If you can regard these papers and photos as anchors that have filled up your memory bank, you may see a heavy weight that has defined you. By discarding a good chunk of it you can then build a new narrative that will be about who you are now. Consider that this moment holds all of your acquired wisdom, so there really is no exaggerated sense of loss. Plus, your remodeled home will likely be clutter-free.

Giselle M. Massi is the author of “We are Here for a Purpose: HOW TO FIND YOURS” and the novel “Just Dance the Steps.” Her romantacy “WYNTER’S DREAM” is now available. Giselle was a journalist with The Denver Post for 16 years and writes the newspaper advice column TELL GISELLE. Contact her at www.gisellemassi.com.