Purging, Decluttering, Minimizing, Downsizing…Why is it SO Complicated?

As I glide gently into my new career (if I say it that way, it will make it true, right?), I am faced with many items that no longer serve me. A daycare provider collects a lot of toys. And games. And craft supplies. And funny glasses, and fairy wings, and plastic fruit…you get the idea. Since my own kids are now 20, 18, and 16, and since little kids no longer visit our home every day, these items seem ridiculous. So I must purge.

So much stuff… Arrrrrggggh!

If all this debris was in another person’s home and said person were to ask me to help sort through it and deal with it in some way, I would have NO PROBLEM jumping right in. We’d be done in a day. After all, other people’s stuff is just stuff. My stuff is another entity altogether.

Practically every single item I pull from a drawer or shelf has a history. I realize all things have a history; I just happen to KNOW the history of each of these items. And that history makes me, a normally quick-witted person, into an organizing sloth. I pull out a drawer of craft supplies and (wouldn’t you know it!) I find little Rowan’s unfinished purple wire and beads project. Awwwww…I miss Rowan…  Wait, what was I supposed to be doing with this stuff? Oh yeah, sorting. The beads get dumped into a Ziploc bag and dropped onto the floor where items await Phase 2. I think Phase 2 means I decide where they go next, but I’m not really sure yet.

I’m proud to report that I installed Amazon’s Seller App on my phone yesterday in the hopes of motivating myself to purge wildly and enjoy the real cash potential of all my really cool stuff. As you might expect, only about 10 percent of my really cool stuff has any actual cash potential. But I was able to distract myself from dealing with the task at hand by spending an inordinate amount of time scanning bar codes (shhhhh–I look super important and extremely busy while doing this).

Maybe my big earnings will buy us Friday night pizza someday soon. Who knows? Maybe the big pile of stuff I’m sending to my new adorable baby niece will bring many smiles to her face. Maybe the red cheerleader pom poms my cat, Grayson, claimed for his cardboard box apartment will make him stop climbing on the bookshelves. Or maybe not. But I do know that releasing these items with the intention of allowing them to bring joy to others releases me from the tyranny of storing them and wondering what if? 

Mine.

Last night I delivered a couple of bags of art supplies and games to my neighbors’ house for my favorite 5 year old, Olive. I watched her dad look through the games and pull out Cootie. “Cootie!?!” he said with more glee than I’ve ever seen displayed by this man before. Yep, Cootie. His wife and I continued to chat while he pulled out Cootie parts, grinning at each one. Clearly, my Cootie game has found a loving home.

I’m tired of feeling bogged down by too much stuff. I’m tired of having to move 7 boxes in my storage room to find the one I need. The minimalist lifestyle appeals to me but empty shelves kinda freak me out. I guess it’s a process. I had a chance to hear The Minimalist authors speak several months ago and I left feeling invigorated and incredibly inspired to let go of STUFF. The idea of having only the things I want, need, and actually use makes so much sense to me. Defining those categories is definitely the problem.

Maybe what I’m really afraid of is not the empty space. Maybe I’m afraid of what will happen when the visual noise of all the clutter ceases. What will I do then – when there is no more stuff to sort and organize and re-home and sell, when there is enough space so that everything I still own can be put away with little effort? When that happens, how will I distract myself from seeing the elephant in the room? That great big elephant with a sign on his side that looks like the community chalkboard at the local Caribou Coffee Shop where patrons doodle while waiting for their beverages. That sign covered in colorful chalk phrases like:

“Just go out and find a fun, easy job!”

“Do something you love!”

“Your kids are almost all grown now–what are YOU going to do next?”

And then toward the bottom, the pessimistic comments say things like:

“You don’t have any marketable skills!”

“You’ve never even run a cash register!”

And my personal self-gut-wrenching winner:

“Your mother told you it would turn out this way.”

Thanks, mom. Oh yeah, that reminds me how committed I am to proving you wrong. Turns out you were supportive and motivational in my life after all, albeit in a backward round-a-bout way. I will figure this out. Watch me.

Ch-ch-ch-changes! And A Life Lesson From A Little Kid

The recent solar eclipse of a super moon on the vernal equinox promised to shake up the planet. They weren’t kidding. Everywhere I turn, I hear stories of people whose lives changed abruptly and dramatically in the weeks leading up to and following this astrological event on March 20th, 2015. My own personal hit took place on the evening before the big day. Let’s just say my complaining out loud and with every thought I put out into the Universe in regard to my job was heard. The Universe corrected course and I was left feeling at the same time relieved and terrified. But now what?

I have a lot going for me, really. I have a brilliant and loving partner, three awesome kids, a cute little house, a car that runs, good friends, good health. Honestly, I even have pretty good hair most days. So how come I’m having such a hard time figuring out what I want to do with my life (a.k.a. a job/career/life purpose)? Ironically, people frequently come to me for advice when they are struggling with any of life’s many facets because they know I can make them feel better and offer a myriad of solutions for getting past the problems. But why is it so hard for me to offer myself the same service?

I’ve spent a lot of time with little kids and I can tell you they do not have this problem. Little kids just assume they can do anything. They will even argue their point when it is apparent to everyone around them that they are mistaken. My favorite example of this was a conversation I had with a little girl in my daycare. Rowan had been coming to our home for daycare since she was an infant. By age 5, she pretty much ran the place. One day she brought me a piece of lace and said, “Auntie, can I knit with this?” (All of my daycare kids called me Auntie whether they were related to me or not).

Me: Do you know how to knit?

Rowan: I think I can figure it out…

Me: Ok, sure, go ahead.

I remember being fascinated by her absolute resolve that this was something she could handle on her own. She didn’t question her skill set or her educational background. Her willingness to try new things was unshakable. How come I have over 3 decades of life experience on her and I am paralyzed by the thought of trying something new? When, I wonder, and how do we lose that unwavering sense of self? That inner knowing that I can be anything I want to be and do anything I want to do. That limitless view of our life’s potential is still present at age 5 but long gone by age 45. Not wanting to squelch this little girl’s dreams, but also knowing how knitting works, the conversation continues…

Rowan: Can I knit with this? (holding up some plastic cord and beads)

Me: Probably not…

Rowan: Why not?

This is the part of the conversation where I wish I could go back and change my response. Maybe I could have been more positive about her knitting aspirations. Maybe I could have provided a set of knitting needles and some yarn and just gotten the hell out of her way. Instead, our conversation went like this…

Me: Because that won’t work for knitting and you need to learn to knit first. It takes a while to learn how to knit. Do you want to learn how?

Rowan: …well, then, can I knit with this? (holds up purple wire)

Me: Ummm…no…

Rowan: Why not?

Me: Because you just can’t knit with wire.

Rowan: Well, I can use these scissors to do it…

Me: (confused look) ok…

I suspect eventually someone will send me a link to a YouTube video demonstrating how to knit with wire and scissors. Trust me, I no longer question whether it can be done. After all, who am I to say what is possible for someone who sees no barriers in front of her? My hope is that Rowan still sees the world as full of potential. I hope that she remembers me as a friend and that she remembers having the freedom to explore her ideas during her time with me. Because I am not proud of how our little exchange on knitting wrapped up.

Rowan (putting down the scissors and wire): Auntie, can I play a computer game?

Me: Sure!

In my defense, it was an educational computer game.