One Piece at a Time

Breaking down decluttering into smaller bite size pieces

I am drawn, as are many of my friends at this stage in our lives, to declutter and release things that no longer nourish or serve a purpose. Traveling light seems to be a goal that we reach as we age. Getting ready for the last trip of all, which allows no luggage. 

When I think about how much stuff I have, it can overwhelm me. And it has for quite some time. Not only do I have a house that I have lived in for over 20 years, but I also have things that were my mother’s, and things that used to belong to an ex that he no longer wanted. And a garage to also help with hanging on.

Yikes.

What happens to me when I get overwhelmed with something is that I tend to freeze and avoid the whole thing. That has not been helpful in the goal of decluttering, to say the least. 

It’s time. Because I notice that the clutter around me is also reflected in my mind. When I let go of something, I literally feel lighter and clearer. 

How about, I ask myself, if I do one small thing at a time? The inner critic, always ready to chime in, laughs and belittles the idea. What will one thing do, she asks? Do you realize how much you have to get rid of? You need to just do it all. Just hunker down and keep going until you get it all done.

Not possible. At least not for me.

Especially when I get to things like the box with the old photos in it. What do I do with these, I wonder? Photos that hold memories for me but mean nothing to anyone else. I don’t have any family that I keep in regular contact with that would have any interest in any of these snapshots of my life. 

I look at the photos one last time, decide which I can really let go of (most of them, actually) and put them in the box for the garbage collectors. How many times have I really looked at these photos over the years? Hardly any. And yet, I have hung onto them. Hung onto pieces of my past. Pieces that I can remember fondly, but that I don’t really need souvenirs from. 

Next, the closets. Filled with clothes that I either do not wear anymore, since retired, or that no longer fit and that I need to admit will probably never fit. And if I did get to the point that they fit, would I really want to wear most of them anyway? No. Slowly, I put them (the ones that are still in good or even new condition) into the donation bag. Hopefully someone can use them. 

Once I have done that, I now look in the closets as I walk by and see if there may be one more piece that I can add to the pile. There usually is. Into the pile it goes. Even if it’s one shirt at a time, it’s better than none. Slowly, I can begin to see the closets lightening up. (Maybe that will help motivate me to lighten up myself, physically? One can hope. That’s the one thing that I hope to keep growing in this stage of life….my sense of humor. It becomes more vital as we age, yes?)

 I look around at my furniture. Mostly I live in one room, and, of course, my bedroom. Do I really need all these pieces of furniture? Do I need the china cabinet type thing that stores things inside it that I no longer use? So I begin to lighten up what is inside this cabinet, and think about when and where to let go of the piece itself. I don’t need it. And the open space would be lovely.

I am thinking about, at some point, moving into a retirement community. That would also involve a lot of downsizing. I might as well start now, yes? 

I am grateful for all that I have had in my life thus far. And am grateful for each new day and for waking up each morning. 

What brings me joy has nothing to do with most of the things around me. What brings me joy is my writing, my painting. My connection with friends. My walks in nature. My volunteering with the elephants at the zoo. My solitude and rich inner life, quiet and with space around me. Space that I can breathe in. 

The rest? The rest I can begin to let go of. I don’t need most of these things. They get in the way sometimes, and clutter my mind and spirit. 

And at this stage of life, my spirit wants to be free and have space to breathe and tell me who she is, who she has always been. 

Space to express my voice, both in the written word and on the canvas. Space to breathe in the vastness of the earth and its amazing creatures. Space to enjoy those around me and the love that we share. 

Space for memories, not stuff. 

Space for life and living it.