There’s something that really stresses me out about losing things. You flip covers and look through corners of your home, your eyes viciously roaming your surroundings and fear coursing through your veins as you worry the item may never be found again.

The title of this post is reminiscent of a book by writer Cecelia Ahern, which I remember reading as a child. Although I can’t recall much of the book’s plot line (sorry!), the idea conveyed in the title is intriguing. Could you imagine if there was a faraway place where lost things went? The one airpod that you gave up searching for many years ago, those pair of trousers you loved that magically went missing, and – of course – 101 pairs of odd socks. I often imagine that there is and picture my lost things laughing at me as I get all hot and bothered trying to find them. Not like that helps matters, of course.

The truth is, with lots of these little things I lose on a day to day life will indeed go on but my mind whispers irrational lies, telling me now the ‘order’ in my life has been disrupted and even if that disruption is minor, it will be felt. I’ll often go to sleep after losing something and as a result start dreaming about the item, that I recover it only to wake up to the reality that it is indeed lost.

A second truth is that this shows I probably value my material items way more than I should (I know, very unbiblical of me) but that’s a blog post for another day.

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Have you ever lost any items important to you and how did you feel when you did? Did you find it/them again?