Let It Go
Hearing the ice cream truck back in the 1980s was enough to get me bounding to the window, stretching to see it, whether I had any money to buy a treat or not. Decades later, the thumping and bumping of the garbage truck is what gets my heart racing as I rush to the window.
Not so long ago, I cursed the disposal trucks rumbling and clattering through the neighborhood in the wee hours, waking me from those precious moments of sleep I try to hang on to before the dog and kids pounce on my bed. But since I started my latest wave of decluttering our home, I am eager for that early morning thrill of watching them finalize the purge. Getting it all to the curb isn’t enough—I want to witness it leaving my property for good.
The kids fuss and whine to keep all the things; what they have is never enough.
The husband presses to get rid of everything except the clothes on our backs. I have literally watched him throw away a brand new chapter book from PJ Our Way as he hastily sorted mail (don’t worry, I lunged to the trash can in a dramatic rescue)! He can never purge enough.
But the disposal service workers feel like they are on my team. They bring me closure on decisions made over the last week, though some of them are still raw and aching. There is a yin-yang of mixed feelings—grief and relief—as I wheel the carts out to the curb the night before pick-up day. There’s no turning back after that truck rumbles past, but there is also a literal and figurative weight lifted from our home that is freeing. This is enough to keep me going.
I’m accepting that my residual feelings have nothing to do with the objects that have laid dormant in dark boxes of our distant past. I am learning to work those feeling out in other ways, such as writing, art journaling, or just having a good cry (that’s you, baby bottles that I researched for weeks in my nesting stage, though neither of my tongue- and lip-tied babies were able to latch on to you for more than a couple attempts through choking, gagging, and clothing changes as if they were waterboarded). I have also found The Minimal Mom channel valuable in my process.
As a lover of print media, I collected magazines, saved excess copies of our small-town newsletter that I developed with beloved friends, and accumulated used books from library sales. While the books can be donated, the outdated magazines and newsletters filled a 96 gallon recycle cart along with their cardboard coffins that lined my garage shelves for the past 10 years. Part of what made me jump out of bed to watch the disposal service that week was to make sure the excess weight didn’t break the truck’s power lift or my cart.
Now that I’m on a roll, everything is potential decluttering fodder… except my art supplies! What is off limits to winnowing in your home?
How many puzzles are enough?
How many shoes are enough?
How many coats are enough?
How many cups are enough?
It’s mid-summer and we are raising two monarch caterpillars—Catty and Katie—newly hatched and chomping away and growing by the minute. The holes in the leaves get bigger and bigger, as do their droppings. Soon they will also leave behind skins and a face mask, shed to allow further and further growth. While I can’t know for sure, I don’t think they consider holding on to outgrown skins for sentiment’s sake or “just in case.” They simply move on to the next stage of growth. What they are becoming is enough to sustain them without dwelling in the past of what they once were.
It’s garbage day again. Along with the trash and recyclables, I brought out a couple of toddler toys that my girls had a hard time letting go of in the past. I don’t ask this time. I set them near the street, take a photo and post it in my neighborhood Facebook group for free pickup. Shortly after, a mom stops to pick them up while we are still outside and we get to see the smiling face of her son as she presents the new-to-him toys. Often times my girls only see boxes of items carted off to a donation facility, so I am grateful that they were able to witness this transfer of joy, knowing their old toys will be well loved by another.
I appreciate these reminders to be present and embrace the beauty that is unfolding before our eyes. I used to attach so much emotion and memory to objects in my life, stacking and storing. But all the stuff comes and goes; these moments can be enough to fill us up if we allow experiences to permeate our souls.
Flashback to Let It Go: Part 1 (Winter 2016)
Since winter set in, I felt the urge to organize and purge. Our family is growing, but our house is not. Being cooped up indoors made me recognize all of the clutter and it was time to evaluate what we really need to get through 2016. I may be known to hang on to things… My minimalist husband calls me a hoarder. I’m not sure if it’s the toddler belting Elsa’s anthem, “Let it Go,” for the 800th time atop the window seat deemed her stage, but something inside me finally felt ready to let it go and move forward. The Great Purge of 2016 commenced.
I recently read Marie Kondo’s “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” which explains the KonMari Method, helping you focus on only keeping things that “spark joy.” The method encourages thanking your items for their service and letting them go so they may serve someone else. This mindset helped me cut many emotional ties to objects, considering that they may bring joy to someone else rather than suffocating in the attic just for memory’s sake or for when “I might need it one day.”
While sorting through toys it was tough to let go of gifts or things I’d bought myself. I felt I needed to save it all for our next child due in late August, but my husband made the point that he or she will keep getting gifts from family every year. The bottom line was if it didn’t spark joy for my daughter now, then it’s time to pass on to someone else for whom it will. However, there was one particular toy that does not spark joy for me, but really does spark joy in my daughter. In the end, the hand-me-down purple alphabet-singing dragon was pardoned from my attempt to set it free.
If you’re a habitual “keeper,” it helps to have a minimalist on hand for support as the process can be exhausting: mentally, emotionally, and physically. I was blindsided by how difficult it was to purge my corporate-dress wardrobe. I am living my dream of being a WAHM (work at home mom) graphic designer and writer. If I ever return to an office job, it will be high time to update my already aged attire. Rationally, there was no need to occupy a closet full of neglected business-ware. But purging six bags of my past life proved to be quite an emotional hurdle. While I was never quite happy in Corporate America, that era had an impact on who I am and lead me to where I am now.
I reluctantly decided to let go of my cherished speed-skates, for which I’d saved months of allowance to buy when I was 12 years old. There were years of memories in these skates; first love, crushing heartbreak, and endless fun with friends on the lacquered skating rink of my adolescence. Devastated when my mom and I moved to a new town, I lived for the weekends when I could visit my friends at the skating rink and reconnect to my old life—my skates were a lifeline until I adjusted to a new school and new friends. I don’t know if they will ever serve someone else or end up as recycled material. But the process of letting them go is healing and refreshing.
Things I will not let go of? My collection of craft supplies and tools dating back to the 1980s that has traveled with me through 11 moves. I’m ecstatic every time I get to pull out a historic piece to use on a project with my toddler. This is the essence of sparking joy—two generations worth!
I picked through a box labeled “wedding stuff” and really struggled because these things did still spark joy, however they didn’t serve a purpose in our lives anymore; their service was complete. “But this is from our wedding,” I said, trying to sort my emotions along with the memorabilia. My husband quickly countered with the most charming (though characteristically sarcastic) thing that he has said in 14 years. “I have you from our wedding.”
That statement said so much. It flipped a switch in me and was all I needed to move forward and embrace the process that much more. Though we are still in the process of tidying up, the progress so far is transforming.
Thoroughly “keep it all” until keeping it all is literally suffocating me from the inside out and then I’m hardcore “dump it all.” Loved this, Leslie!
Leslie, I could NOT love this more! I love love love the time-lapse-like imagery of Young Leslie racing to the window to see the ice cream truck growing into Grown-up Leslie racing to watch the garbage truck. The poll made me smile -- yes to all the art supplies, you already know my answer ;) As we get older, I feel like the thing we never have enough of is time... and so I believe that I have my work cut out for me in eliminating and editing out the excess--toys, inventory, containers to store inventory, commitments, assumptions, fears--so that what I have leftover can be *enough*, and so that I can have *enough* time to enjoy the things that really are most precious to me: my people and the space to be creative. Thank you for this window into your decluttering process, and how it has evolved from childhood through early motherhood and to where you are now, finally saying goodbye to those baby bottles. I'm with Vern--we're glad that no matter how much you get rid of, we'll still have you.