If No, Let It Go

I am hearing a lot these days about a Japanese woman who is into decluttering your home and life.

First it was Feng Shui, then it was the Norwegian death cleaning, now it’s her “method.”

Well, I’m here to tell you that there is no system – outside of the obvious – for getting rid of stuff.

For a short while I ran an organizing company. I learned a couple of things, and one of them is this: People like their stuff. They like to buy things and hold on to them. They like surrounding themselves with some form of protective barrier that makes them feel safe.

And the ironic part? That sense of security is a “house of cards,” so to speak. It’s stuff. It can be gone at any time.

And all of that stuff just makes it more difficult to live.

The more we get, the more we want. The more we have, the more we have to lose. Then we get strung into the fear of losing it, so we collect more to feel more grounded.

Trust me. I know. I was the same way.

Without a doubt, the very best thing – for many, many reasons the likes of most that I won’t share here – was divorcing. But what I will share was how to transition from living married in a five thousand square feet to living single in fewer than twelve hundred square feet.

Oh, it wasn’t easy, but here are some tips:

(1)   If you have more than one of something, other than bookends, it’s probably too many. You don’t need seven of the same thing. You don’t even need seven colors of a beloved shirt. First off, even if it’s the most flattering thing you’ve ever worn, people are going to think that you got some kind of bulk deal, making you seem cheap.

(2)  Don’t keep stuff for “in-the-event-of” cases. If you’re keeping grandma’s necklace, even though you hate it, because one day you may have a daughter who might like it, get rid of it. I promise you that your kid doesn’t want that crap. If you are keeping an oil lamp because one day there might be a cataclysmic power outage, believe me when I tell you that the oil lamp won’t provide that much comfort. And where can you buy oil for an oil lamp anyway? Instead, why not learn how to create a fire with a flint? That’s useful.

(3)  If you can’t tell a story about something supposedly “sentimental,” then get rid of it. Give it to somebody else who really may love it that much and create their own story. I had a friend once who wouldn’t donate her children’s stuffed toys. She had four kids and enough animals for a large zoo. We played a game. If I picked up a creature, showed it to her, and she couldn’t tell me a sappy story about what it meant to her, or her kids, then it was going, going, gone. When we were done, we had only a handful that had true meaning to her. And somewhere, those bags filled with gently loved cuddlies brought joy to many other children.

(4)  Books? Don’t kid yourself. Most aren’t made with acid-free, lignin-free paper, which means that not only will they appeal to those nasty million-legged, paper-thin, crawly bugs that eat the glue in the seams, but they’ll eventually yellow and crumble and fall apart anyway. Plus, old books stink. Ever been in an old, used bookstore? It smells the exact same as a poorly run old-folks’ home. Plus, without books, you can get rid of number one, above, the bookends.

(5)  A picture truly is worth a thousand words. I once helped a high school student going off to college. He had every single piece of artwork he’d drawn from preschool through grade twelve. We ended up taking photos of his science-fair entries, his pictures (which, by the way, were starting to yellow and petrify), anything that he had drawn and had in drawers and closets. Those photos are miniscule mementos – and now, he has the memory but not the mess.

(6)  When you keep stuff, you are tethered to the idea of collecting. I once heard a comedian do a whole routine about how we buy houses, and progressively fill them until we have a need for larger and larger houses to store more and more stuff. It’s absolutely true. Wouldn’t you rather, instead, have experiences? No matter how much stuff you get, someone is always going to have more – or better, prettier, faster, cleaner, more colorful, more something. But if you invest in experiences – in sharing life with those you love, in doing whatever it is that makes you truly happy – that’s something no one can match.

I’ve thankfully had the opportunity to visit many countries. I was blessed to be a stay-at-home mom who, for a while, homeschooled my now-grown children. I wouldn’t trade a curio or anything in any cabinet, not one piece of furniture or artwork or even an automobile of choice for that time with my babies or my travels. No matter what anyone else has done – or where they’ve been – those experiences are mine alone. Only I know what I feel when I think back on being able to rock my daughter to sleep at naptime. Only I know what it’s like for me to bask on the shores of the Mediterranean in a two-piece that I purchased in a small boutique in Italy.

Declutter your home? It’s easy. As you touch something, each day, each time, ask yourself, “Do I need this? Does this serve me, help me, assist me, bring me great joy?” If no, let it go.

We don’t need a Japanese or Norwegian system to purge. We need good common sense to be thoughtful consumers, recognizing the difference between a momentary joy or a lifetime experience.