Okay. I’ll admit it. I am a pack rat.
*Run to hide under my bed’s covers*
I didn’t really admit that, did I?
Yes, I did. Because this month, it’s all about minimizing, and I’m never going to ask you to do something I myself have not tried or planning to try.
I grew up in a home with a fulltime working father, a mother who had chronic illness, and three little girls who were close in age and were often left to their own vices.
My father spent many nights studying or preparing reports while my mother rested from a long day’s work of teaching us, working on her business projects, and being a counselor to friends and family. Our home was often left in disarray, and although my parents tried to teach us to be “neat and tidy” the example they laid before us did not measure up to their own standards.
As I entered my college years and moved out, I realized that although I didn’t have much to take with me, most of it wouldn’t fit into the tiny apartment I now called home. So, I started tossing.
When I moved to my next apartment, it was even smaller.
And, I tossed again.
By the time I moved to the apartment I live in now, I STILL had to toss some things that were taking too much .
“But I thought you already tossed–TWICE?!”
I know, I know…but it’s so easy to keep adding, especially when I have new space to put things. See, clutter reminds me of home, my late mother, and the happy childhood I often idealized until the last two years. When I start tossing things out, and my room is spacier, my bookshelf is neater, and the little things I hold onto are either packed up, given away, or trashed, I’m reminded that some of the things my parents taught me (implicitly or explicitly) don’t work for my life.
Space to breathe, think, and create works for me.
Order, cleanliness, and consistency works for me.
Not having panic attacks when I realize it’s two days before company comes over and I’ve yet to clear out the things I’ve been meaning to throw away works for me.
This March, I’m challenging myself and spring cleaning, tossing out the things that don’t add value to the sum of Ivy.
Care to take this journey with me?