I’m still not done with my decluttering project. Can you believe it? I’ve been at it for over a year now and I have made a lot of progress. Oddly enough, though, it feels strangely cyclic instead of linear. I guess maybe it’s because just as we grow in spirals we declutter in spirals. Not in one straight line.
This morning I listened to the audiobook A Simplified Life by Emily Ley, not so much to jumpstart my simplifying journey but to keep me at it. I’ve started decluttering quite a while back. But in some areas stuff tends to creep back in, so I was hoping to refresh my resolve. The most striking effect the book had on me, however, was the surprising realization that I’ve already done pretty much all of what it recommends doing. And more.
I few months back I wrote a post on what I would do if I had only six months to live: my no-regret bucket list. It was a list of steps I needed to take to heal relationships that are important to me: with my dad, with my brother and with my ex. Little did I know that the universe was going to conspire and deliver situations to me in no time that would catapult me into resolving them way sooner than I ever thought I would. The delivery was plain brutal in some respects, plain beautiful in others.
Whenever I move houses – and I do so very frequently for professional reasons – I strive to turn my new place into a real home, my home, as quickly as I can. Last time around I set a new record: I finished the whole thing in just two days of intensive laboring – except for the last five percent. It’s the last boxes that don’t get unpacked. The one or two lamps that don’t get put up. The shoe cabinet that never gets assembled. I don’t know why. I always end up not finishing the last five percent.
I did it! I decluttered my guest room. Which means I can now cross item no 1 off my bucket list. As I suspected it wasn’t a joy ride. Opening the boxes full of old letters and cards and documents that I had unceremoniously stored in one corner of my spare bedroom sent me on a speed trip throughout my youth and early adulthood. And boy, can it be embarrassing to be reminded…