Finding Peace in the Clutter

I have a friend who, well, let’s just say she is really into the art of homesteading. This woman can literally do just about anything. Anyway, a few months (maybe years) ago she posted a question asking if anyone had done the “KonMari clean.” I’m going be honest here. I really thought to myself, “Please don’t let this be breast milk cookies or baked placenta tablets recipes!” I Googled this “KonMari” clean and read about how “spiritually” and “emotionally” cleansing it was. The brief description, which was under a picture of an empty bookshelf, had me thinking that it was, indeed, some gluten-free, homeopathic wizardry she had read. I immediately dismissed it and moved on to find some more “I’m-drowning-in-self-pity” memes to post. 

Pause. 

Fast forward to last week. 

I was walking down the hall before school Thursday morning humming “Antidote”, by Travis Scott (I feel like you should know that at this moment I am listening to Clare de Lune and I’m wearing an Aerosmith t-shirt…which can only mean that I have an eclectic taste in music.) Anyway, so here I am walking down the hall humming and a favorite teacher friend of mine stops me. I give a ubiquitous smile and cheerful “good morning.” He stops me and says, “I need to tell you something, and I really mean this. You have looked so much happier in the past few weeks than I have seen you look in months.” I was taken aback. After a second, I found the words I wanted share with him. “Thank you Mr. B. I earnestly mean that. Thank you. I feel happier than I have in years.” He gave me a gentle, understanding smile and said, “I can see that.” 

Here is the truth: I spent the last three years in a very unhappy place. Emotionally and spiritually, my well was completely dry. It’s hard to explain this and honestly, a bit disconcerting to admit. I mean who truly wants to tell anyone, aside from a therapist, that they are barely holding their head above water? A combination of my husband starting his own business and my grandmother passing away sent me into an emotional downward spiral. And I stayed there for three years with only brief periods of balance. I filled my life with keepsakes in any and every form I could from my grandmother’s house. I filled my closet with clothes for someone I never wanted to be. (This is so embarrassing) It was a beautiful closet for a person that just didn’t live here or in me and never did and never would. There were designer shoes and handbags stacked to the ceiling. Clothes hung neatly on beautiful wooden hangers. And all other accoutrements of an educated, self-confident, and financially secure woman. Then (check this plot twist out) I literally closed the damn door and never went in there again. 

This wasn't just an activity I did for my wardrobe. I was kind enough to share my self-depreciating activities with the rest of the house, too. I filled every cabinet with every possible piece of anything I was given from my grandmother’s house. And then…AND THEN!!! 

I never used those either! 

BOOM! 

I stacked my emotional downward spiral on every shelf in my house like books. During those three years, I had a few friends try to tell me that I was losing it. One was nice enough to say it out loud (like, in those exact words), and another actually spent the entire day with me cleaning up because I seriously had just stopped caring if my house was clean or not. The deeper the spiral went the more I felt the need to just. not. move. 

I don’t want you to misunderstand. This wasn't an episode of “Hoarders” kind of thing. I wasn't stepping over boxes or harboring a dead animal under a pile of laundry. I just wasn't participating in my own life. I felt like I just didn’t want to be me for a while. Does that make sense? I really just wanted to walk out of the door and keep going until I was far away from everything.

And this is how my life sluggishly moved along until my friend (the one I mentioned like 5 paragraphs ago) posed her question. 

It took me almost 6 months (and the loss of about 60 lbs, a slightly related goal) before I even began researching this “KonMari” clean thing. All of the testimonials and the reading material available online praised the life changing nature of the process and how it would “open your life to positive change.” Pfft! Whatever. How could cleaning out a damn photo album or thanking a t-shirt before you toss it help you “spiritually" and "emotionally” grow? Those who know me well can tell you that I am all about existentialism and seeking self-actualization, BUT there is no way in hell that thanking your trash is going to make you a better person. Reluctantly, I read on, and I kept reading until I finally thought to myself, “Look, you have tried everything else. Why the hell not? What’s the worse possible thing that can happen? You start and then give up and stream old episodes of Daria?” 

To get everyone on board, I sat on the porch with my husband and tried, without laughing, to explain the whole KonMari thing. I’m pretty sure he just agreed to try it so our house would be cleaned and he could finally get some space in the closet I’d confiscated and then closed down years ago. Whatever his reason, we agreed to start Thanksgiving weekend. We sat the kids down, and I explained the process (amidst their giggles and doubts). We decided to do the clean in 3 phases. Phase One would be the entire downstairs, Phase Two was the entire upstairs, and Phase Three was the pool house, shed, and yard. To expedite the process, my husband and I sorted through clothing the weekend before Phase One was due to begin. And this is where things got real…QUICK! 

First, I opened my closet and stood before the artifacts of the person I thought I was supposed to be. These were the belongings of a person who never was and never existed. For the love of all that is holy, the tags were still on some of the damned things! Section by section, I brought each down to “base camp” (the living room) and I picked through each item, held it, and considered if it made me happy, if it made me feel joy, if it brought me peace. Some things were easier than others. Some. . .well, as I am writing this, it still brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps the hardest for me to let go of were my grandmother’s night gowns. I held each against my face and inhaled deeply, searching for her scent or something that would bring her back to me. But it wasn’t there; she wasn’t there. I allowed myself to keep one; I chose the burgundy one that I most clearly remember her wearing. All of the others were placed in the donation pile. Let me tell you, I had to fight each day not to go out and dig through the bags to rescue them. And that alone almost made me stop the clean all together. 

The hurdles came in quick succession. I decided to tackle what I knew would be the most emotionally taxing first. The family photos brought many tears and lots of laughter. We chose a large shoe box and decided that we would only save what would fit in that box. Each duplicate, blurry, or random picture was thrown away. Many of the photos of my babies lives sat in the discard pile. I wanted desperately to find reasons to save meaningless items, like the cords used in the hospital that monitored each of my children. On more than one occasion, I became inconsolable when reminiscing over old photographs and random keepsakes . It is strange how the pictures or tokens from our past can have that effect on us when we are faced with never seeing them again, yet they spend years tucked away in books or boxes or drawers. I held each and asked myself the same series of questions I had with my clothing. Finally, after 3 hours, I closed the lid on the shoebox of what remained of our family photos. 

Equally emotional were the books. (I can feel the English major in my head condemning me to Hell for this) Just say it…Okay! I did it! I got rid of books! Tons and TONS of books! I took them from my bookshelves, I picked out the ones I loved and the ones that had the greatest impact on my life, and all of the others went to the donation pile! (That was harder than I thought it would be to admit.) 

Each room had its own emotional hurdles. At one point, I swear I heard my grandmother begging me to keep all of her antiquated tupperware. (she seemed really mad, so I kept like 4. I mean, I didn’t want to piss her off after the night gown incident) Every cabinet was emptied and every item evaluated for its usefulness. Mix-matched cups, plates, pots, and pans were tossed. If it wasn’t being used, then it went. And after 3 excruciatingly emotional days, Phase One was done. 

Here is the strange part: Phase One was really the hardest part. After Phase One, we zipped through the other phases. Nothing was spared! If you didn’t make us happy or make us feel at peace, then you had to get the hell out! We tossed and cleaned and tossed some more. We reorganized and then evicted over 45 large (industrial size…seriously…we got them from a landscape service) bags of trash, 13 large bags of donations, and 5 pieces of furniture. The staggering amount of “things” we had collected over the years was remarkable. We couldn't believe that five people could accumulate so many useless things. All of these things that we had emotionally attached ourselves to had rendered us stagnate. We couldn’t find peace because it was buried under the bullshit of the histories we keep in our physical and emotional spaces.

Rewind. 

So I am walking down the hall, and I’m humming to myself, “don’t you open up that window, don’t you let out that antidote.” Mr. B stops me and and tells me he thinks I look happier than I have in months. 

Okay, here we go: 

My sofas don't match my area rugs or my throw pillows or my ottoman or my window treatments, and I’ve never been happier about that.  My book shelves are thinner but what is left are beautiful words written in eloquent sentences that have each changed my life. My record collection is sitting where I can use it every day, and I can tell you the exact number of every piece of dinnerware in my cabinet. My closet, which is now shared with my husband, is filled with only clothes that I absolutely love. (which translates to broomstick skirts, band t’s, and bohemian tunics.) 

Now, I’m not saying that I am fully committing to the whole “spiritual and emotional” change of the KonMari clean, but I can tell you this much is true: after the clean was finished, we both felt this tension lift. This feeling of anxiety and stress was just gone. The emotional weight was lifted. The only thing I feel when I come home is just…peacefulness. I feel peace. There is something calming in letting go of the burden, the guilt, the pieces, and the items of the past lives we led. And we did just that. We just let it go. 

I think the lesson here is that all things are temporary, transient. Nothing can or should last forever. Not pain or heartache, not people and definitely not the things we fill our spaces with. When we choose to let go of whatever it is that clutters our emotional, spiritual, or physical spaces, we truly do open ourselves up to new things, new experiences. It took me completely breaking down and letting go before I was able to find peace. And that is exactly what I did. I made room in my spaces. I cleaned out the years of emotional and physical clutter so that I could find the peace that was buried underneath. And surprisingly enough, happiness finally found a way in. And that’s exactly what it did, it just came right on in.

To my dear friend who posted that question, I am truly forever grateful. You have no idea how your simple question saved my life and brought me to peace. I love you.