Of Lost and Found: A Dedication

By Christina Kim - April 09, 2015

We have often heard that popular saying that we will never know the value of something until we have lost it”.
How true that is, and don’t we all just know it, taking it further to cherish all that we have in our lives.
From the people to our belongings, the phrase just creeps into almost every imaginable corner in our lives.

I am all for this phrase.
I am always attached to my belongings and often, my sentiments for things belonging to me are stronger than most people on the average scale.
I am extremely protective, possessive; not sure if overly obsessed (which I don’t quite think so) of everything that I own. If we are only on the topic of ordinary items, think of the sentiments I could have for those that I call my favorites.
That would probably warrant a spectacle of a woman scorned perhaps?
Yes, just perhaps.
I am not quite the evil witch just because I lost my favorite things…Yet.

I don’t know where this came from; I could probably link it back to my own parents perhaps?
(It has got to come from somewhere, it’s the nature of the universe, so, sorry Mum and Dad, but you’re the nearest link/predecessor before me so it always has to be you guys).

Jokes aside, I believe it is largely associated with the upbringing and the values cultivated during our childhood which molded us to the way we are and how we behave or think today.
Now, we are talking science, and they are definitely backed by facts.
Go ahead and Google that; just don’t do it right in my face because it shows disrespect that you are questioning my credibility and I might just throw that cream pie in your face.
I am just kidding, quite almost, anyway.

As a kid, my parents have often told us to take good care of our belongings and I am pretty sure most of the parents out there do the same. It is perhaps this message which further sinks the concept of the importance of our own belongings all the way into the depth of our souls.
Early education and values cultivation are always effective, for it is when our minds are at that development stage and given the right methodology practised, it is almost quite close to striking that bull’s eye right where it is, in the center of the board.
Of course there is always the additional and environmental factors which could contribute to the cognitive and physical development which in layman terms, simply the shaping of our personal behavior and thinking process.
It makes absolute sense, for parents could all preach the same thing to their children, and if every kid turns out the same when they reach adulthood, won’t that make a generation of droids, if there is no emotion/experience/lifestyle affecting each and every one in their own ways?
The key is experience, and environment, for every one; and I mean each and every single one, of us, is exposed to the different faces of life.
Our experiences could change and even alter that original thought process cultured by our parents; even possibly erasing every ounce of what was entered to be discarded in to the waste bin. In its place would be new ideas and lessons which would then set the new system to work.
Life, is just like that.

I have always stuck to what I believe in; though experiences have also changed me over the years, admittedly so.
It may be that trait of steadfastness, which could otherwise term me as hard headed at the same time which kept the old values deeply rooted in its bed despite the experiences or environment I go through.
I am not sure if that is a good or bad thing; I guess it is always a balance of both.
No one will ever know anyway.

I love my things; and everything that I own, are regarded as my very own treasures albeit the monetary value or price tag it came with. The context of priceless is fitting my very own concept of my belongings, like a glove.
I am not possessive or obsessive; not to that extent, though I could be a little protective sometimes.
I won’t hunt or stalk you if I have lent you my items, that you can be assured; if it is a voluntary loan.
Otherwise, I would advise you to keep that bolt on the door.

My love for my belongings have grown into that need to make sure they are always in their best conditions, which is really quite rare to see these days. I could even extend that sentiment to things which do not belong to me, but fall in that category of my favorite things; i.e: books.
I would be upset even when I see a library book torn and dog-eared; losing that original identity.
It is just blasphemy to me, and I am disheartened to see the way people treat their belongings, like they are not worth even a single cent.
I am no saint either, and I am not judging, but I am just really sentimental, especially when it comes to dealing with my own belongings.

I am often distraught when I misplaced or lost anything which belongs to me, and I am sure almost everyone feels the same way.
Most of the time, I would wish it was only displaced.
I just cannot bring myself to face that possibility that I could have lost it, or worse, drop it somewhere, outside.
It is a thought far horrifying than any special visual effects the most gruesome horror movie could have on me.
My heart could stop, spare my poor heart, so do not make me think and conclude that I could have lost that item, forever.

I can’t handle loss, or I just choose not to.
Loss upsets me, in ways one may not imagine.
I won’t kill myself though; that's for sure, don't worry about it and besides, that’s forbidden by my religion (not that I would think of that either even if I was not a believer).

I have been through episodes of lost and found (who hasn’t anyway?) and each time is just as heartbreaking as far as my memory serves me.
I used to have panic attacks or go into a frenzy when I realized something is missing, but as the years go by and age have gotten the better of me, I have learnt to get a better grip on myself.
I still feel distressed when I lost something, but I just don’t scream bloody murder, because I realize that I cannot find it even if I broke my voice box.
Besides, the mind just goes into a maze and jumbled up mess which simply does not help with the unraveling and backtracking to the sequence of events leading to the loss of the item.
Emotions are not the best helpers in times of crisis, and I learnt that.

Worrying gets me nowhere either, because the item just won’t appear despite how grief-stricken or worried I am or how deep that frown has burrowed into my forehead, leaving that permanent line which would take tons of beauty products to remedy.

It is just something I learnt, from years of panic attacks.

I was surprised myself, for now I could just close my eyes, try to think and breathe deeply.
I know I can’t recall anything because that tiny part of the brain is still saying, “I’ve lost it!” but I try not react and just say a quiet prayer, while keeping myself in calm composure.
Reacting, anger, frustration are not getting me anywhere.

I have recently lost an item extremely dear to me, and my heart almost stopped when I realized that it is just not there.
(I told you my heart could really stop, yes, literally, but I could almost feel the blood freeze at the same time, I kid you not).
I am quite distraught, naturally, and I simply cannot, for the life of me, even remember when was the last time I saw it because it was just so attached to me, like all the time.
It is like, it is part of me.

It is funny how I just took it so naturally, as part of my body part when it was just right there – perhaps even to the point of taking it for granted.
It will always be there.
It makes sense since I have owned this item for as long as I live, and I have had it on me for more than a decade now.
Panic seeped in when I discovered its absence, and it felt like part of me was missing at the same time.
I felt like I have lost a part of my very own soul at the same time.

Yes, I have tried to mellow my anxiety and negativity (I am always the optimist) but I cannot hold back the tears when I looked at the empty space where it used to be.
It is like this huge reminder staring back at me, as though accusing me, “How could you not realize I was gone?”
I cannot describe how I feel, merely by words, for there is that pain and anguish in my heart.
The positive thing is it has not been missing for a very long period of time yet, and somehow hope still prevails that I am sure I will find it somewhere soon.
I am also sure, by Heaven’s grace, it will surface soon as well.
I hope.

Most of those around me will probably tell me that it is just an object and it can be easily replaced.
Sure, I could probably try to find its new replacement in shops and perhaps even get a version which is far more polished or alluring in appearance, to be proudly displayed, but it is just not the same.
It is that old sentiment and feeling of attachment, you may or may not understand.
If you do, you will totally get what I mean.
If you don’t, you just won’t understand and I won’t judge you.
I could probably boast or show off a new item, but that is not what matters.
It is not that same part of me.

I miss you, please come back to me.
It is not the same without you.
It has to be you, it is always only you.

I am now imagining that feeling of jumping for joy when I finally find it; in somewhere unexpected.
It always happens that way.
I don’t mind slapping my forehead as hard as I could for that carelessness or stupidity for the displacement, as long as I have it back.
I always misplace things, it is always that way, and it always has to be that.
Faith and hope are my only companions while I continue to stare at the empty space, waiting for the return, of my Lost Item~
I know it is somewhere out there…

(In case you're thinking, if that's how I react to lost items, I must be a total wreck when it comes to loved ones? That, would be a different post, and I have survived losses of loved ones too - a different subject matter altogether, though the sentiments remain)

Do you feel the same way when you lose things belonging to you?
Do you react and panic when you realized it’s missing?
Do you mind, at all, if it is just a commodity item which can be easily replaced with a trip to the store?
Do you feel depressed?

Do share with me, but don’t comfort me, though I appreciate the concern and sentiments you felt when you read my story.

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