The Uncluttering

Part 1 of The Uncluttering

I am uncluttering* my home, but to call this endeavor the beginning of any such effort is nothing less than laughable. The me vs. the clutter aspect of my life has been as constant as my shadow — always present, sometimes invisible, but sure to return with every new day.

Why Now?

So what’s the difference this time? Why do I feel compelled to write about this adventure on this go around? The answer is simple from this side of the screen: I am finally ready to do this in a way I now recognize I never was. I have finally done enough work on my inner clutter to be fully capable to tackle to visible stuff.

The Origin Story

It began with grief. My father passed away when I was twelve years old. I don’t remember my relationship with stuff before that time with any significance, however, afterwards I was a hardcore sentimentalist. Things carried feelings, memories, and souls. I kept things as symbols and totems of times gone by. Then, preparing for future losses that felt all too inevitable, I began to collect things as memorabilia of my ordinary day to day living.

Throughout my childhood, containing my entire world of stuff within the four walls of my bedroom and under the watchful eye of my mother who kept our home ready for the…