I’ve been on a three year process of clearing clutter. I think it started after Dad died. After a season of survival, I needed some space – and in this stage of life, when kid clutter and grown-up clutter collide, I’m starting to understand that the maintenance of clutter is exhausting.

I might have a genetic predisposition for collecting things. One of my grandmothers had Olympic-level clutter (seriously), and mine is of a much junior rank. Most of the time, I don’t even realize it’s there until I take a photo and see all the stuff in the background. It takes up space that I don’t even notice it’s taking.

Don’t get me wrong – collecting things can be a lot of fun. Any good DIY’er knows that. I love a good 7 AM yard sale trip in May or June and my girlie LOVES the thrift store (no idea where she gets that from…).  I collect vintage Fire King and Jadeite dishes and Depression glass, and I admit that finding a sweet piece for my collection makes my heart go pitter-pat.

But at some point, my output needs to exceed my bringing-home input. Having to replace our carpet three times in one year helped me downsize, and downsize and downsize some more – turns out packing and unpacking THREE TIMES is a great incentive to fill the toss/donate boxes quickly. It’s meant some tough choices – but a lighter load. I still have a long way to go, but the back of my van is full with donations to drop off this week, and I’ve tried to make that a bi-monthly habit, at least.

The goal: a house that is joy-filled instead of stuff-filled.

A few years ago, I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, and now, I’m feeding all my perfectionist neuroses at once by watching the Marie Kondo series on Netflix while I work out. Watching it while I sweat out Christmas excess, I’m seeing that we all desire to be able to breathe deeply in our homes, but that our lives are so full that we don’t know exactly what to cull. We forget what is most meaningful.

And reality TV shows make it look so easy to make this happen. While I’ll never have that perfectly crafted life, and it’s unrealistic to think I’ll ever be a minimalist, here’s what I’ve learned so far:

1. Our stuff can own us

After Christmas, as I cleaned up, I realized I spent three days moving stuff around. And yes, Christmas just does bring a new bunch of things into our house, and we’re a living, breathing family, so it was necessary. At one point, however, I actually announced to anyone who would listen, “I HAVE JUST SPENT THREE DAYS MOVING STUFF.” Not sure if anyone actually did listen. It reminded me that we can own our stuff or our stuff can own us. It’s easy to just spend life moving our stuff from one space to another, becoming “stuff managers.” How meaningful and fulfilling is that?

Our stuff can take space from us that we don’t know it’s taking – and that’s called stealing. It’s stealing our mind space and lifespace. I don’t want to be owned by stuff and the distractions, and I know it can happen so easily. I also don’t want to be owned by a decluttering system. The goal is freedom, friends, not serving either our stuff or a decluttering mantra.

I want to live in a place that our family can thrive – physically, emotionally and spiritually. Not just a place for our stuff. Instead, where we have places to read. Places to play. Places to rest. Places to create. Places to cook and eat and laugh and talk and connect. So, now, instead of curating perfect spaces, or decluttering, I’m building meaningful places.

2. Choose good memories

Last fall, I donated a set of dishes that belonged to my precious great-aunt Anna.  They weren’t practical anymore but they were a treasure. I struggled to give them away even though I couldn’t use them because the glaze wasn’t any good. But, as I decided to donate them, I realized that I loved my great-aunt’s memory far more than I loved her dishes. She was a Swedish spitfire. I’d rather keep her sassy spirit, or a photo of her than a photo of her dishes. So, I prayed that the dishes would bless someone else, and I packed them up and gave them to a charity store I care about.

I have chosen to keep things that are precious and useful – so on our dinner table we’re using the green depression-glass salt and pepper shakers that have seen 5 generations of our family’s mealtimes. I’m trying to use the good silverware that my great-grandmother bought as a new bride. I’m choosing to cherish the good memories and make new ones with the things we keep.

3. Saying no can be life-giving 

When you get rid of what doesn’t bring joy, you make room for things that bring joy, and you make room for life.

Saying no to good things is something I’m learning in all areas of my life. I’m in process. There are still piles of papers in my dining area that I’ve got to sort through, and every room in my house still has stuff that I don’t even notice anymore that just needs to go, but just making a little space has made our home feel so much bigger – like I have room to breathe. My friend Shelly wrote about joy and decluttering today – and you should really read her words. What she said about hoarding hurt instead of making room for joy struck a chord with me. Let’s make room for joy, okay?

4. Sometimes it’s sad

Giving away our girlie’s baby clothes was really tough for me. Going through the boxes, and remembering my only child’s fleeting babyhood, I cried a lot. I let myself grieve, but I also reminded myself that I wasn’t giving away my hopes or dreams, I was giving away joy. I had the chance to share these things with another new mom so that she could remember her baby girl in them too.

And I kept some things. I let myself pick my favourites – because the goal was to lighten my load, not to be ruthless and unkind to myself. So there’s still a bag of my favourite little shoes and the most precious things – and that’s okay. They do still bring me joy. Maybe I kept too many things but clearing the clutter is self-care, not self-condemnation, so I’m okay with that.

5. It’s about making space

I’ve learned that while it looks like I’m about clearing clutter, I’m actually trying to make space.

Make space for life.

Make space for my soul.

Make space for joy.

So, my goal is no longer trying to clear clutter, but instead, it’s to make space for us to really live. And that is energizing, friend.

Tell me – how do you conquer clutter? How are you making space?