There’s a scene in Schitt’s Creek I really love: the Roses realize that the massive family portrait that hung in their foyer no longer represents them, and as a result, decide to toss it in the trash.

I feel the same way about this rug.

Last summer, I was stunned to find it on Facebook Marketplace—not because it’s such a hot commodity, but rather, because we owned it back in New Jersey. It was a Marketplace find back then, too, and I remember how excited I was to come across it. Though it’s marketed as a children’s rug, I fell in love with its abstract design. I loved the colors, too.

Plus, if you know me, you know that I don’t shy away from childlike colors. Pinks, blues, purples…our apartment is bursting with them. They make me happy! And, I’m a firm believer in decorating with things and colors that bring you joy.

But back to the rug.

It was listed for $15, and when I saw it, we immediately messaged the seller asking when we could pick it up. There was something that felt so good, in the moment, to reclaim a part of our history. Sure, it’s just a rug. But that rug was on display in our apartment—our living room. And, more importantly, we didn’t get rid of it because we lost interest in it. Life had worn it out.

So, getting back something we weren’t ready to truly say goodbye to felt like the greatest gift. Then, we brought it home and unrolled it in the office. And well, it didn’t fit. But that was fine because we decided to lay it out in the kitchen.

The rug was on display for the next six months, sliding when we walked over it because the pad underneath never did its job properly. The pets would get food all over the place, and then, when Oscar got sick, drops of medicine he shook off his lips landed on it. Life happened again.

Then, a few weeks ago, we found a barely-used Ruggable for $20 at a yard sale.

“What do you think?” I asked John.

“I like it,” he replied. “Where are you thinking of putting it?”

Good question. I had no idea but also couldn’t pass it up. “We’ll figure it out,” I said.

We already liked the rug we had in the office. And, at the time, our bedroom was a mess so having to organize simply to move the bed and see how it looked seemed like a ton of work we weren’t in the mood for in the moment.

Our only option left was the kitchen.

So we rolled up the other rug. We swept and mopped. And laid out the new one.

And….

Loved it.

We hadn’t realized how dark the blue rug was making our kitchen. This one, which was beige with colorful flowers, breathed new life into the room. Plus, if any messy eaters dropped their food, it could just be popped in the wash.

Instead of finding another place for the blue rug, we realized something pretty impactful: that it wasn’t us anymore.

And we were cool with that.

I’ve always struggled with getting rid of things. I fully blame it on my childhood. As a kid, I watched my parents sell off all our furniture so they could pay bills. They left my bedroom untouched, of course, but that still doesn’t negate the impact that sitting in a lawn chair in our living room had on me. It was blue and purple striped.

Things like that were the norm growing up, and so I developed a serious attachment to everything. Even stuffed animals weren’t safe, as I didn’t want to disappoint them by getting rid of them. Tell me you watched Toy Story without telling me you watched Toy Story.

Then, when I got a divorce, my ex tossed all my belongings in the trash, except for one box. These things leave marks. Then, when my parents died, getting rid of things was even harder. Now it felt like I was letting go of the only physical-touch memories I had left. If I kept this pen, I could be touching something my dad also touched, keeping that relationship alive.

It’s gotten better since living in Florida. I donate more now than I ever have in my life and most of it, I don’t regret.

But that’s why this rug is such a big deal! I’m not keeping it because it reminds me of my past. Rather, I’m getting rid of it for that very reason.

I’m not that person anymore.

The new rug fits me for who I am now.

And that’s pretty great.

I’ve grown. And I’m learning to let go of what no longer serves me. Maybe it starts with a rug.