The Mix Tape Theory of Stuff™

If you grew up in the days when Lionel Richie was dancing on the ceiling, you will know that there has only ever been one woman you could trust to have the perfect song for your mix tape.

It was not Madonna.

Or Whitney.

Or Pat Benatar. Although love certainly can be a battlefield.

It was a woman whose name can only be sung.

It was…

(pause for dramatic effect)

De-liiiii-laaaah.

 
If you have no idea who that is then please tell me what Younger You was doing in your bedroom every night? Homework?

Please.

While you were writing a paper on The Scarlet Letter, the rest of us were spraying our bangs and sitting by our boomboxes with the cassette tape recording feature, fingers hovering over the record button so that the second we heard the opening notes to a song we’d been waiting for, we could mash the button and hope to get a clean track without anyone talking over the final notes.

This is how GenX spent their formative years.

Creating mix tapes from songs they recorded off the radio.

 
And it wasn’t easy.

If I had a dollar for every song I recorded and then rewinded and recorded over because I decided I didn’t really want that song on this tape? Well, I wouldn’t have 30 years worth of student loan payments.

Because that’s the thing about a mix tape. Every time you make one, it’s different. You’re either making it for someone who isn’t you. Or for yourself, but a slightly different version of you.

A version who can’t stand to hear Unchained Melody one more time.

A version who used to want to Jump For My Love, but doesn’t feel like being quite so athletic anymore.

A version of you for whom jumping out of bed and stumbling to the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of ambition never gets old.

 
We all know that the law of the mixtape is that you’re allowed to change the playlist.

Just because something is on one tape doesn’t mean it belongs on every tape you make for the rest of your life.

You don’t make a mix tape by asking: Is this a good song?

Because even the longest cassette tapes you could buy at KMart had a 90 minute limit. And that’s not enough time for all the good songs.

You ask: Do I want THIS song on THIS tape?

Which is why a great mix tape was a work of logistical planning and creative genius and emotional fortitude.

A not so great mix tape was a mess. And you hated listening to it. Because you were always having to fast forward through the stuff you didn’t want to listen to and wondering why you even put it on this tape to begin with.

Probably because leaving it there was easier than going back and recording over it.

 
If you’re at all like me, you’ve probably got a Liked Songs playlist on Spotify.

And if you’re at all like me, you’re constantly adding songs to the playlist. Until it’s totally unwieldy and you find yourself listening to a string of songs that you just want to skip.

Not because they’re bad songs. And not because you made a mistake by adding them to your playlist. And not because you might have gone a little overboard in a fever of nostalgia and clicked the heart next to every single song in the Barry Manilow catalog.

But because you just don’t want to listen to Mandy anymore.

 
We understand intuitively that our playlist will change when we change.  And we give ourselves permission to add songs and take them away without judgment or shame or guilt.

We are not so great at giving ourselves the same permission with our belongings.

We keep treating the contents of our homes as though every previous decision has tenure.

You chose it once.

You loved it once.

You needed it once.

It belonged to a version of your life once.

And somehow that becomes evidence that it should still be here.

 
But your house is also a collection you’ve been editing your entire life.

And if you are different now…

If your kids have gone, your work has changed, you’re no longer married (or you’re partnered up with someone new).

Your priorities changed.

Your body changed.

Your hobbies changed.

Your future changed.

Why would the contents of your house not also be allowed to change?

 
Which brings me to my Mix Tape Theory of “Stuff”™.

You’re allowed to keep something forever.

You’re allowed to love something temporarily.

You’re allowed to bring new things in.

You’re allowed to stop choosing something you once chose enthusiastically.

You don’t have to reverse the old choice to make a new choice.

Or disown your former self in order to leave one of her songs off the next tape.

And.

Your home doesn’t have to contain every song you’ve ever loved just because you once loved it.

One of my clients removed 45 FreshDirect bags full of belongings from her apartment. Ten months later, she told me she hadn’t gone looking for a single thing we’d let go. She couldn’t even remember what had been in most of those bags.

Not because none of it had ever mattered to her.

But because none of it belonged on the mix tape she was currently playing.

 
When making your mix tape, instead of asking:

Is this a good song?

Why do I have this song?

What if I want to listen to this song in 5 years?

Will my grandmother / mother / sister / daughter / neighbor / best friend from ninth grade who I haven’t seen since our 15 year high school reunion be sad if I didn’t keep this song on my playlist?

The more useful question might be: Do I want to put this song on this mix tape?

Because whether something once deserved a place in your life doesn’t automatically mean it belongs in the life you want to be living right now.

 
Your friend who spends more time than normal speaking in song lyrics,
Delilah Vivian