There but for sentimentality would I be.........
When I was in my 20's, I was proud that everything I owned fit into the back of a pickup truck. The collection of "stuff" grew with time, but I was able to keep the invading enemy mostly at bay (staying single helped). Then, about 20 years ago, it found a successful tactic: I couldn't part with icons from the people whose lives have touched me, especially family members who have passed away.
On a bookcase at home sits a Seth Thomas mantel clock from the 1920s. I don't even run it, but it sat atop a piano at the farmhouse of my grandparents, and it generates fond memories of spending summers with them. My mother's paintings really fight dirty; can't imagine getting rid of them now that she's gone. Little art projects my godsons made for me in school. An entire bookshelf of thousands of my slides from travels, kids' birthday parties, vacations, etc. Books my father had. I don't dwell on this stuff, but I appreciate it now in ways I couldn't when in my 20s. So the "stuff" has won on that battlefield, but I've only had to retreat the line of defense from that pickup load to a 1 bedroom apartment- so far.