Giant Fancy… Minimalism?
When I first wrote about decluttering, some people hated it.
A few predicted CRUSHING REGRET.
This has not happened.
The opposite.
As I have cleared away clutter, more has looked like clutter… and somewhere along the way, I got a glimpse of something magical:
RADICAL
SIMPLICITY
For some brief moment, I SAW the option.
It was a blazing epiphany of nirvana.
I got it.
I *tore* into my closet.
I had decluttered the closet before, but not really; I’d only really discarded things that were truly unwearable– stuff I was keeping for when someone comes and steals all of my other clothing in the night.
This time, I pulled it all out.
I made a giant spectacular disaster mess all across the floor of the bedroom.
Instantly, I was seized with paralysis and regret.
My clothes are *MY HOARDING JAM.*
Just looking at the stacks,
I felt the attachment.
I was definitely not letting go of any of this VERY PRECIOUS STUFF FROM TJMAXX.
So I just left the giant spectacular disaster mess.
Two weeks…
…a month…
Thirteen weeks and three days.
Paul was like— what’s going on in here?
And I was like— I really don’t know. I guess we live like this now. Just don’t walk around.
The longer the piles sat there, the less the stuff looked… precious… the more it started to look like a pile of garbage nuisance.
Randomly, one day, Self was like— well, we could just TRY ON, one pair of those jeans. JUST ONE.
And you know what? I didn’t like them.
I DISLIKED them.
Out of my closet, I took two white garbage bags:
My circa 1997, Steve Madden knee-high platform boots— an actual physical representation of my 20-year-old soul.
I keep them in separate garbage bags because they shed black powder flakes all over everything.
You know when you have an absolutely perfect piece of clothing?
That was these boots.
They are a piece of myself.
AND I will never wear them again.
To wear them, I would need to tolerate the disintegrating vinyl lining sticking to my tights, my socks, my bare legs; leaving a powdery black visible ring around the top of my calf.
Typing this out, Self helpfully suggests— what if you GOT THE SHOP VAC AND REALLY SCRUBBED WITH THE BRUSH ATTACHMENT?
You should at least TRY.
BECAUSE WHAT IF SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE IT TURNS OUT YOU NEED ROTTING PLATFORM BOOTS?
AND YOU THREW YOURS AWAY.
Like an idiot.
I put the boots (in their separate bags) near the steps— to take out to the trash.
Then the bags sat there.
For a week…
Six weeks…
Six months and nine days…
But then, one day, out of nowhere— I was ready to detach.
I ran to the steps and got the bags and RAN and shoved them at Paul and said— quickly! Hide these bags in the garage until trash day. *DO NOT* let me EVER SEE THEM EVER AGAIN OR I WILL NEED TO TAKE THEM BACK AND REEVALUATE.
QUICKLY!
Go! Hurry! Fastfastfastsofast!
NOW!!
LITERALLY RIGHT THIS SECOND.
No, no, what are you doing??!
Do you know what Paul did? He opened the bags and looked in and said– but wouldn’t somebody WANT these boots?
And I was like– do you literally not speak human language?
LISTEN TO ME:
God had to intervene, for me to get rid of these bags.
Do you understand?
LITERALLY GOD.
I PRAYED *ALOUD* TO THE BABY JESUS, for a MIRACLE to allow me to LET GO OF THESE BAGS OF LITERAL GARBAGE THAT NO ONE CAN WEAR OR SELL OR USE and really MY PLAN was to just leave them sitting here at the top of the stairs forever.
But then, THROUGH THE GRACE OF THE BABY JESUS I had a FRACTION of CLARITY… for a moment, I GLIMPSED my own insanity— I SAW that I am STORING GARBAGE ANXIETY IN MY CLOSET AND IT’S A METAPHOR FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE.
I don’t want to be this way anymore.
I wish to DISCARD my garbage armor.
Literally. Figuratively. Metaphorically.
ALL OF IT.
BE GONE YE GARBAGE.
*Intermission*
Something about writing about MY experiences,
sometimes makes total strangers defensive.
So please read this disclaimer:
I’m writing about ME.
And:
If you WANT your stuff,
you are not having the same experience I am having.
For me, I have come to see that the reason I am keeping SO MUCH STUFF is NOT want or use or love; it is: Guilt. Anxiety. Stress. Responsibility. OVERWHELM.
Perceiving value, feeling RESPONSIBLE for this THING THAT MAYBE I COULD SELL FOR SEVEN DOLLARS OR SEVEN HUNDRED OR SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS but if I DON’T GET THAT then I DON’T WANT TO SELL IT SO MAYBE I SHOULD JUST KEEP IT.
It is easier to keep the thing.
To SAVE IT.
To AVOID THE ANXIETY.
*End intermission*
At some point, I SAW:
Myself,
trying to get a chocolate stain out of a twenty-year-old sweater that I haven’t worn in actual decades but it’s a really nice sweater that SOMEONE would like to have but this stain is definitely going to need…
And I extrapolated a GLIMPSE of how my entire life, I have been worried about the wrong things; and how it has paralyzed me.
Worrying. About. The. Wrong. Things.
Feeling RESPONSIBLE FOR THE WRONG THINGS.
Being overwhelmed by stupid minutia— trying to control every last thing.
TRYING TO CONTROL EVERY LAST THING.
I finally SAW:
*WHY* AM I CHOOSING THIS RIGIDITY AND MARCHING?
WHY?
NO REALLY?
WHY?
If you are someone who thinks maybe they would like to get rid of some stuff, but you literally cannot detach – girl, I hear you.
I wrote my first post about decluttering four years ago.
It took on a momentum of its own.
Your brain changes.
You start to see things differently.
The open uncluttered space became more appealing than:
stuff I got on Craigslist 10 years ago that I see VALUE in and I got an insane bargain and also there are lots of people who would really like to have this thing for themselves so I should definitely keep it and since all of this room is chaos anyway I might as well save some boxes in here too because you know, I do really hate to throw away a good box.
Focus on what you WANT to keep.
You start to see the difference and detach more easily.
You don’t have to do it all at once.
There are no rules.
Sometimes you will reclaim 50 things from your sorting pile.
Totally fine.
Just see where it takes you.
You’ll be surprised.
If you are wrestling yourself to the ground over some item, just leave it.
It will sort itself out.
You WON’T get rid of anything ACTUALLY important.
You might FORGET why you donated it, and think you made a mistake, but if it was ACTUALLY important to your existence, you ABSOLUTELY would have kept it.
Parable of the Forever 21 t-shirt:
I thought I donated a t-shirt from Forever 21, circa 2003, that was the PERFECT shade of deep rosy pink.
Months later, I was SEIZED WITH A NEED FOR THAT *EXACT* COLOR SHIRT.
*NO OTHER SHIRT WOULD DO.*
And I was like— dammit, I NEED that t-shirt.
WHY WOULD I GET RID OF THAT!?!
My life is RUINED.
A year later, in the basement, I found that life-necessary t-shirt, in a bag of rags, and I was like— OMGHALLELUJAH I DIDN’T RUIN MY LIFE!!!!!
I RAN upstairs to try it on and confirm that indeed, this IS the only acceptable t-shirt!
And I hated it.
And I remembered, oh yeah it has this weird stain-line from being folded in the closet, unworn for twenty years.
And oh yeah IT SAYS *BOMBSHELL GIRLS* in pink glitter.
And, oh yeah, it’s pilled and misshapen and way too short and made out of trash fabric from Forever 21.
And OH YEAH I AM 46 NOW AND KNOW ABOUT NET-A-PORTER.
I didn’t NEED to REGRET getting rid of this.
My initial assessment was correct.
Which led me to the glimpse:
I don’t really trust my own judgment.
In fact, this entire exercise— the clearing-away, of layers of unloved, unevaluated stuff, has illuminated some things about myself that I was blind to.
I came to see:
It has nothing to do with stuff.
It has to do with protection against regret.
Protection against making a mistake.
I HATE MISTAKES.
I REALLY I ABHORE A MISTAKE.
I came to see that rigid perfectionism is my jailer.
And that I can choose otherwise.
And that OTHERWISE IS SO MUCH EASIER.
And that SOMETIMES perfectionism is a tremendous gift of magic.
And the point is to know when you are making magic, and when you are just flogging yourself mercilessly for no reason at all.
I came to see the option for letting go of the things that do not matter.
Letting go:
of chaos, overwhelm, panic.
of obsessive perfection, indecision chaos, paralysis overwhelm, addictive, compulsive, rigid, controlling, hoarding.
We’ll have to cover all of that in another post, because as usual, this one long-exceeds the attention span of the internet.
So.
To bring this full circle to my last post about opening an antique store:
I was going Mach27lightspeed towards a shop full of Giant Fancy Things.
A singleminded, maniacal march towards Craigslist domination.
While simultaneously performing some kind of self-administered brain-transplant via decluttering and Eckhart Tolle.
I THOUGHT these two paths were intersecting at the junction of me, taking all but my VERY MOST FAVORITES to my antique store.
Then my brother died.
Not what you were expecting?
Me either.
I crashed directly into the ground.
That lasted for a good while.
After the initial grief paralysis, I was SEIZED with a COMPULSION to CLEAN my house.
To impose ORDER.
On something.
So. Much. Cleaning.
POSSESSED CLEANING.
And.
The decluttering reached another level.
The level where I ACTUALLY DETACHED.
I detached from things that had been sitting in piles for…
years?
Literal years.
I detached from the magic skirt.
That’s not code for something; it’s a literal description of a magical item of clothing.
It had been thrown over the upstairs railing for six months… I didn’t WANT it anymore. I WANTED to be free from these ENDLESS PILES OF STUFF but ACTUALLY LETTING GO was impossible.
But after Matthew died, I was like— this skirt issue here is not the issue I thought it was.
I didn’t try to sell any of the clothing on eBay.
I gave myself the gift of not flogging myself.
I chose to JUST BE DONE.
I took it all to the donation place.
I got rid of all of the books I don’t REALLY LOVE.
Even though it left empty space on the shelves.
I started selling all the stuff I had collected for my store.
I accepted the sane option— just use the garage.
IT’S FREE AND THE COMMUTE IS PRETTY GOOD.
And,
*whispers*
I have begun to cull favorites.
I hate to tell you this, because it’s a betrayal of my sacred blood oath to own ALL OF THE FANCY THINGS: I had the passing thought— I could let go of the Narnia wardrobe.
It’s SO BIG.
The room would be so much more OPEN, without it.
Self slapped me soundly across the face,
so at this point, no.
But the fact that I would even consider it is *astounding.*
Like, it’s THE LITERAL PORTAL TO NARNIA.
So.
This post is over now.
There isn’t really an ending, I’m just reporting the events.
June 21, 2023 @ 11:14 am
I have missed you.
I am sorry for your grief.
Thank you for sharing it outloud.
June 21, 2023 @ 1:30 pm
I am so sorry to hear of your loss.
This decluttering bug bit me last year, I lost my “true love” last year and I started getting rid of first his things and it grew into sorting /getting rid of my excess. It has been very enlightening….and freeing.
Bagging stuff and letting it set for a minute helped because if I didn’t miss it I donated it.
I wish I could make myself get rid of cookware, it will happen eventually……
Take care and give Paul a squeeze!
JC
June 21, 2023 @ 3:02 pm
I was so happy to see you’d posted an update on your adventures and was delighted to be reading along until the sad news. I’m so sorry for your loss.
June 21, 2023 @ 10:50 pm
My deepest sympathy on the loss of your brother. It hurts but in time it will hurt a little less.
I am so so so PROUD of you!!!
You did the MOST RIGHT thing!
June 22, 2023 @ 9:16 am
Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing your journey.
June 22, 2023 @ 1:18 pm
I have been following you forever (because I adore you and you are the only one who truly gets me) but lost track when my husband got cancer and died two years later. You have been my alter ego for many years. Can you imagine being like we are (dreamer,hoarder of all things huge and wonderous, craigs list Golem, my precious,) and having your best friend/enabler disappear from your life? Leaving you with all the projects half finished, a garage and house full of stuff, and disabling grief? I know you have a mirror with a kingdom on top and a piano island but I have a 1964 Air Stream sitting in my driveway. Here’s the story:
Sitting in bed on Labor Day morning looking out the window at the Airstream. A 1962 Landyacht. Some one decided it would look better with a couple coats of paint. But under that peeling exterior I know there is a gleaming gorgeous girl.
So about ten years ago, I can’t believe its been that long, I was looking at Craigslist and noticed an ad for an Airstream trailer. It said “1962 Airstream, 22 feet, hardwood floors, needs work, $500.00”. I yelled to Tom that I was going to call about it and that I was sure it was supposed to read 5000.00. He said call them! Call them! I called, she said “no its 500. We were building a house and we used it to live in for the summer and we don’t need it any more”. I said I wanted it. She asked if I didn’t want to see it first, I said “No, don’t sell it, we will be there in two hours with cash!”
So we grabbed our emergency stash of guess what? 500 dollars, jumped in the old Ford 150 and drove to Walton, about an hour away. When we got there the trailer was sitting on the side of an old dirt road, paint peeling, a little shabby looking but still, an Airstream for 500 bucks! It was a dream to tow and by the time we got home we were calling it she, the shuttle craft, plan B.
Tom, of course, went online and found out the history of the model and every bit of info that was written on her. We had great dreams of fixing her up, grabbing the dogs and taking off to the Grand Canyon. Or maybe California. Sometimes on summer evenings we would concoct our traditional dirty martinis made with Bombay Saphire, two olives, one onion, a glance at the vermouth and we would just go out and sit in her, talking about where we would go when we finished her. We did put in a new stove and fix a few things and talked about pressure washing the paint off her. I still might do it.
The other day my gardener told me she might know someone who could tow it away for me, you know, like get rid of it, do me a favor. I just looked at her. How could she have known what Airstreams were worth? How could she have known that Plan B was my last hope for freedom? My last link with Tom. My last adventure.
June 22, 2023 @ 1:44 pm
PS Your brothers death must have destroyed you. I am glad you found your way back. I know how hard it is.
Also I forgot to mention I am (and my husband was as well) a cat rescuer, foster, adopter, volunteer, senior dog rescuer, senior rescued parrot parent, and cat sanctuary non profit.
Thanks for all your wonderful writing!
Molly
Stareyes.org
June 22, 2023 @ 6:48 pm
I am so very sorry for your loss. Having experienced the life altering loss of my young adult son, I am the queen of functional brokeness. I am broken through to the bottom of my soul, yet must function at some level, because LIFE. My heart hurts for you and hope as you travel the path of Grief you come to understand it isn’t a straight line. In fact, the path of grief is so twisty turny, with unexpeceted U turns and then leaps of straight to the edge of madness and back again that it can leave you with the ability to literally spin your head and scare the bejesus out of small children. BUT walk the path long enough and you will learn that Profound Grief and Great Joy can live peacefully, side by side inside the same heart. A miracle really. And I hope you reach this point along the path sooner rather than later. Hugs to you and congrats on learning you can detach from stuff. And realizing that it’s mostly all just stuff.
June 22, 2023 @ 8:49 pm
Victoria Darling,
I am so sorry to hear of the passing of your brother, I remember you posted about a trip that you took with your brother'{s} I think there is another one. I remember reading your post with a smile on my face, you all were having a grand time together, seem like a lot of fun! I will pray for strength for you, in this season. Good job on clearing the stuff, I get it.
Kind regards, Dee
June 23, 2023 @ 9:49 am
Everything you write engages me to the fullest. These de cluttering posts connect to my inner self so clearly. Thanks for sharing the insights you’ve seen in yourself. They are helpful to me. And it’s fun to read. I’m smiling the whole time. I’m so so so sorry about the death of your brother. How tragic and sad and awful. Sending a hug your way.
June 23, 2023 @ 10:13 am
i’m so sorry about your brother. and i’m so proud of you for radical simplicity!
June 23, 2023 @ 5:43 pm
I don’t think I said this before but, can you please show us what the magic skirt looks like? I’d love to know the story behind it
June 23, 2023 @ 6:13 pm
I am so sorry for your loss! Welcome back, we’ve all missed you! Looking forward to hearing more adventure stories!
June 24, 2023 @ 4:11 pm
I am so so sorry about your brother. These posts have been SO helpful for me as I look at all the house clutter that I spent 3 years buying thinking that I was opening a thrift shop, instead it was all the anxiety of the last 3 years cluttering me into a corner. My house is literally hoarder level 2 now and I need to let it go. You are giving me energy to focus and clean , one room at a time. Thank you.
June 24, 2023 @ 7:33 pm
I can’t tell you how many chords this post struck for me. Even the life changing loss: there are no words, grief will have its way with you.
A few months ago a diagnosis stopped me in my tracks & I started to edit my hoard. I figured that filling a 3 car garage was better than having storage units, with that logic, the addiction continued.
It suddenly became important where the lovely items landed, crazy thinking, but a lovely so a charity devoted to the homeless took four truck loads out of my garage.
It has changed everything inside and outside of the house, it functions. It has turned into an obsession of sorts as I notice multiple can openers. Did I really need to hang on to my 8th grade graduation dress for decades…
June 25, 2023 @ 11:11 am
Someone else already stole my comment, practically verbatim, so I’ll just plagiarize what she said… “I love you. You are my spirit animal. I am incredibly sorry about your brother.”
For real tho, I NEEDED to read this post. And I’ll likely come back and read it next week for inspiration. (And for as long as it takes to Make Room and clear space in my home.) It’s so reassuring to know that there are others like me, the struggle is real!
I am praying for you, your family and loved ones who continue to feel the loss of your brother. Praying the memories of his time with you will bring you all joy and peace and love.
June 25, 2023 @ 7:42 pm
Funny blog, it’s good to detox, right? I thought your closet would be bigger.
Thanks
June 26, 2023 @ 10:56 am
Cleaning out is cathartic. I don’t even list furniture etc on Facebook Marketplace any more. Bad scamming experience. Put it on Craig’s List in the FREE category with the words: You haul it, you own it. “A person who owns little is little owned” – Ray Magliozzi, Car Talk. (one of the world’s great philosophers)
June 26, 2023 @ 12:29 pm
Big, expansive love from the ether to you, dear Victoria—I am so sorry for the devastating loss you and your family have suffered. You have somehow transmuted some of that pain into a different way to love the world and make it better: you’re making a major change in your own relationship to yourself —to stop “worrying about the WRONG STUFF” (I gotta do this too!!)—but also, please know that you have a joyful, enlightening impact on the world (i.e. all of us) that’s even more than all you say and do on here. Thank you for the effort it takes to share with us now and then, magical person.
June 27, 2023 @ 12:16 pm
I have bookmarked this post, and I will be re-reading it daily, as it’s what I need to absorb.
Thank you.
I’m terribly sorry about your brother.