You reminded me of my children. All three got to an age in which they would collect rocks. They were very protective of their stash of rocks too. Inevitably, they would put them away and forget about them.
I suppose that is life as well. Things are important in the moment, until they cease to be.
Perhaps your condition is like that. Important for the moment. Less so in time.
Maybe it is just the human condition in general. I suspect that many of us have draws full of metaphorical rocks that we keep moving around, as even as we know they are useless and unneeded, we can't find a way to detach ourselves from them and the feeling that because we have held on to them for so long, they are a part of us.