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| Romper: Vestique, Shoes: Versona, Purse: Gift from Rodan + Fields, Bracelets: Kate Spade, Necklace: Chloe + Isabel (obsessed - haven't taken it off) |
In the last week I have held every piece of what I am wearing in my hands and asked myself if it "bring me joy".
I've stopped to consider whether I feel good in it; whether I truly like it or not, and if I feel comfortable wearing it.
This is not an exercise I have ever done before.
I have never taken the time to really consider the things I own. The objects that I have in my home, that I put on my body, that sit on my dresser, surround my sinks, counters, shelves, and asked if they bring me joy or not.
Disclaimer: I have not gone off the deep end.
I have not started having actual, out loud conversations with inanimate objects, but I have been working on an exercise to be more conscious about what I surround myself with. I am doing a MAJOR purge. Total haul of every nook and cranny of my house, including my closets, "junk drawers", pantry, bathroom sink, dresser drawers, everything. I am going through my accessories, books, furniture, the linens in my closets... EVVVUURRRYTHING. I am not doing this all at once, but I am ALL in. I am hooked. I am obsessed. Nothing is safe.
I keep a pretty clean house. And, by pretty clean... I mean, REALLY, clean (to the naked eye). Any of my friends will tell you that they can walk in at any time of day, day of the week, month of the year, and my house will be clean. There may be a few dishes in the sink as the dishwasher finishes a cycle, and yes, my laundry room is a fking nightmare, but what they see when they come in is really tidy. Like... if I ever have a cleaning lady or team come in, it really doesn't look much different when they are done, kind of clean house.
I like a tidy house. It makes me happy. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Brings me peace. Gives me a sense of calm. I can only relax in a clean house. Mess makes me uneasy. (I blame my mother, who, when I was growing up, was a "clean freak".) The problem was/is that I have dirty little secrets everywhere.
The hallway closet filled with suitcases, a vacuum, random picture frames, and sneakers that my husband wore 5 years ago. So full that I jump back when I open it up so the avalanche hurling towards me doesn't cause bodily harm. Under my bathroom sink? Shampoo and half used bottles of conditioner from 3 years ago. My wedding after-party dress? Dirty and still hanging in my laundry room (from APRIL). My kitchen sink? I have no earthly idea what's under there. Could be dish detergent, could be a community of Fraggles. An interconnected system of caves could be under there... like, Fraggle Rock. Fraggle Rock could quite possibly exist under my kitchen sink. Hell if I know.
See... when I was young we moved all of the time. I LOVE moving. I love throwing shit out, packing up only what you really care about, exploring a new place, decorating, redecorating, creating a new vibe, giving old things a new place to live. I LOVE to move. It's like a fresh start every time you move. Some hate it. I LOVE it. As a kid, before I went to college, my mom and I counted and between her houses and and my dad's houses, I had lived in 20+ places in 18 years. That may sound awful to some, but not me. It's one of the things I miss most about being young. Moving into a new place every year or so.
Now that I don't move all of the time, things collect. They build up. I hang on to objects in case I, you know.... "ever need to wear/use them again". I have boxes and bins. Piles. Drawers of clothes I don't ever select. Until recently, the closet in our guest room was FULL (and I mean, full) of home decor that I accumulated over the last 10 years. Throw pillows, books, lamp shades, comforters, twelve elephant statues. Twelve. (I have a thing for elephants.)
I wasn't really conscious of it until recently, but my house never truly felt settled, calm, or like the peaceful sanctuary I crave because of all of the junk. So... when I was browsing Audible (an app that will read you audio-books) I found myself selecting, purchasing, and immediately listening to this book by Marie Kondo called :
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing
It is the decluttering bible. If you're not into reading or listening, here are some highlights:
- Tackle categories, not rooms (ie: Go to every room you have your clothes in and go through all of your clothes before moving on to anything else.)
- Respect your belongings
- Nostalgia is not your friend
- Purging feels so good
- Only keep what you truly love, want, and appreciate
So far I have donated... wait for it... over 550 items. YUP. FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY plus items. I have been keeping a tally.
Pillows, lamp shades, shirts, shorts, workout clothes, dresses, pants, shoes, accessories, bras (I have had 2 breast reduction surgeries and I had yet to get rid of my old bras. I donated 20 bras.), handbags, bathing suits, coats, a couch, and more to come. Over the next couple of weeks I plan to leave "no stone unturned".
Now... I know what you're thinking. "Good for you, Melissa. You don't have kids. Of course your house is clean, and your things are tidy." Fk off.
Granted, it is WAY easier to do this when you don't have kids, and their toys, and clothes you're holding on to because their brother is a year away from fitting into everything they just outgrew. However, everyone can do this to one degree or another.
Look at something, ask if it brings you joy, decide if it really adds value to your life, comfort, confidence, and make the call as to whether it stays or goes. It's incredibly liberating. I feel like I have lost weight almost. I guess I have in a sense. I may just take up skipping.
I'm just going to skip from one room to the next filling garbage bags and frolicking in the joy that I get from purging shit.
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