My family is doing another “Declutter Your Crap” challenge for the New Year. We set up a photo stream and a 12-week decluttering plan for our respective houses. Each week we will clean out something and post “before” and “after” pictures. For example, one week we will clean out the fridge. Another week we’ll clean out our purses. Yet another will involve cleaning out closets. That sort of thing.
It’s amazing how much “stuff” we can accumulate in a short period of time.
I just moved into my house a few months ago, and the kitchen cabinets are already looking cluttered. The bathroom cabinet already has expired sunscreens patiently waiting to be tossed and replaced.
What I found quite interesting is how easy it is to hold onto junk AND how easy it is to avoid throwing it out or replacing it with useful things we’ll actually use. I’m not a “stuff” person. Going from a six-figure income to no figures and then to a few (but steady) figures meant my life got simplified… a lot. I became less concerned with spending hundreds of dollars on Louboutin shoes and a Chanel camera bag and more concerned about getting rid of stuff.
I like to think of moving to Iowa as a purge of sorts. I sold most of my possessions and started fresh in a new state with a new outlook on life. A clean slate and a determination to do things right this time. I sold my Chanel, my beloved Louboutin platforms, furniture, and all of the “stuff” I didn’t have a use for. It was liberating to simplify my life. I used words like “minimalism” and relished how organized and functional (as opposed to dysfunctional) I thought I’d become in my new life.
Fast forward to New Years a few days ago, and I was standing in my house looking around saying, “What IS all this JUNK?” Where did all of this stuff come from? Why did I buy half of this? Why did I think I “needed” it?
I bought a small house this year, and one bedroom is unused. The door stays closed because It’s turned into a catch-all unfortunately. The pile of papers I need to file sits on the box of books I’ve been meaning to take to the library. There’s a big piece of cardboard I need to make into a pattern for my kitchen backsplash. There’s an “eBay or throw it away” tub in there, too. Small piles of semi-organized chaos.
It makes me cringe. This is not the organized perfectionistic way I’ve always lived.
Maybe it’s that my life has gotten busy again. Maybe I’ve started to realize that a little clutter (or occasional disarray like an unmade bed and unfolded laundry) is okay as long as my time is better spent elsewhere and with those I love and care about.
Maybe, for once, I’ve finally lightened up and prioritized my life better than I did before.
We all probably have those items or circumstances in life that are hard to let go of. Rather than deal with the mess, we put the stuff in a literal (or figurative) catch-all and close the door. I’ll deal with that later, we say. I’ll address it when I have time or am in a better frame of mind.
I used to do that with my life problems, and now I seem to be doing it with my material possessions for some reason. Maybe decluttering my material possessions is reminding me of the new “stuff” my personal life has accumulated. I seriously have too much of some kinds of junk and not enough of other good things. Maybe you can relate.
This week the Declutter Your Crap challenge involved cleaning out the pantry and refrigerator. I did that yesterday and posted the pictures. Here’s what I noticed. I don’t have much food in the house. I don’t like cooking for one, so I end up eating cereal out of a mug (much easier to carry around) or something easy like that when I’m alone. Cereal isn’t a terrible nutritional choice, but, dear lord, I need to go to the grocery store for “real” food.
I made a simple dinner a couple weeks ago for me and my boyfriend. I left the dishes overnight and did them the next morning. I don’t have a dishwasher in the new house, and hand washing takes a while. I chose to sit and talk that night and did the dishes in the morning before I went to work. That’s unheard of for me, but my inner rebel loved it.
Who cares if the two plates, forks, spoons, pasta strainer, and pot sat overnight? Seriously. What does it matter?
Some clutter can wait while other clutter cannot.
A couple weeks ago, I went into the catch-all bedroom to get my formal dress out of the closet for a wedding. My “book box” was in the closet. It’s my big box of writing ideas, including my book series that’s still unwritten. When I moved into the house, I put the book box in the closet and shut the door because I was angry at how Agent Innocent hadn’t done as well as I hoped. I told myself to get back to other, more consistent, means of income and work. Remember, I told myself, writing books will probably always just be a hobby and not how you make a living. Forget it, Mel. You gave it a good shot. Move on.
How badly I want to take that book box out and dive into it, but fear keeps me from doing it. Dealing with fear is old junk that can’t wait. The dishes can wait. Dealing with my inner self-doubt cannot. I’ve made excuses for everything involving writing. This blog is the only writing I’m doing right now. Let’s keep it real.
I gave a real doozy of an excuse the other day. I said I write better in the middle of the night. I’m a traditional artist who will write page after page in the wee hours of the morning. Without my late-night inspirations, I cannot get creative. I have a day job now. The luxury of time for creative license doesn’t exist as easily. But here I am sitting on my couch on a Monday afternoon writing. I’m a walking (er, I mean, writing) contradiction. There is time. I just don’t take advantage of it because it’s not when I feel most creative.
I have too much cluttery fear and not enough of the gumption to just write when I can.
Stuff. There’s so much stuff to declutter.
I’ve realized, though, that sometimes decluttering leads to the discovery of long-lost good “stuff” that just needed to be excavated from the messes. I just opened the book box. It’s full of post-it notes, handwritten ideas on discarded envelopes, and books with slips of paper tucked in them to mark the inspirational passages. I found difficult notes related to the tougher parts of my life, but they didn’t bother me as much as they would have a couple years ago. I found random storylines and character profiles for my unwritten fiction ideas.
That’s some of the good stuff I need to revisit and unearth from my fearful doubt.
There’s clarity in decluttering life’s figurative and literal messes. But, ironically, the past couple weeks have taught me there’s just as much clarity to be found in leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight.
Embracing the typos till next week,