(Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Label Maker)
Let’s be real – decluttering isn’t exactly on anyone’s “fun things to do on a Saturday” list. But here’s the truth: that overwhelming pile of stuff you’ve been side-eyeing? It’s actually your ticket to some pretty spectacular personal revelations.
Doing what I do, I’ve seen enough “aha” moments to write a book (which would ironically add to someone’s clutter – oh, the irony!). Remember the one client, who discovered their long-lost passion for playing the violin while excavating the dining room table. And the client who now has a well organized “memory room” so that the rest of the house can reflect both of the people who live there and not be full of one person’s memories.
Here’s the thing about decluttering that Marie Kondo doesn’t tell you: sometimes the stuff that doesn’t “spark joy” is actually sparking something way more interesting – like that moment when you realize those size 6 jeans aren’t making you feel guilty anymore because you’re too busy loving who you are now. (Plus, high-waisted jeans are back, so who’s really winning here?)
The magic happens when you stop treating decluttering like a punishment and start seeing it as the world’s slowest treasure hunt. Each drawer is like a time capsule of who you were, who you tried to be, and who you’re becoming. That box of unfinished projects? It’s not judging you – it’s just waiting for you to decide if future-you still wants to learn macramé. (No judgment either way, but 1975 called…)
Remember, this isn’t about creating one of those sterile, Instagram-worthy spaces where you can’t tell if anyone actually lives there. It’s about creating a space that works for the wonderfully complex person you are today – someone who might want to keep that quirky flamingo lamp just because it makes them smile.
Your home should tell your story, not give you a panic attack. And if your story currently includes a junk drawer (or three), well, that just means you’re human. A human who’s about to embark on a journey of self-discovery, one overstuffed closet at a time.