The Salvation Army just came and hauled away my twenties. I left the decade, and the majority of its symbols, out on my driveway this morning and all that's left now is a slip of paper that says I donated stuff who have been or will someday be in their twenties.
I have to say, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I've gone through the stuff several times and I know there's nothing in there that I need (or, frankly, want) and my garage is getting emptier (because it's a two car garage and it's FULL. Crazy.). These are good things. I'm thirty, and its time I got rid of my clothes from high school. So, from that standpoint it's a weight off of my shoulders because I got rid of a tremendous amount of clutter.
On the other hand, I am materialistic. My stuff is important to me, and I measure a lot of who I am by the things that I have. I know this isn't my best feature but a feature it is, nonetheless, and one that I have to deal with. Getting rid of my stuff gives me an icky feeling in my stomach that I got rid of something important. This feeling will pass, I've gotten rid of things before, but right now I plan to spend a few hours feeling oogy.
Ultimately, though, I did the right thing. Of this I have no doubt.