Clutter
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| A sign of Chris's de-cluttering. Bless him. |
A couple Sundays ago, our pastor did a sermon on clutter, so to speak, which was a metaphor for hanging onto to things (e.g., grudges, slights, insults, hurts, etc.) that hold you back. Really good, and it even sparked conversation between Chris and me that was actually relevant to the spiritual topic at hand.
Of course, as a woman deep in the throes of nesting, I kind of got stuck on the literal idea of clutter.
The pastor cited a study that showed folks with too much stuff actually experience STRESS from holding on to their precious things. Sure, we’re talking about correlation, not causation, but hey. Actual biological measures of stress hormones were detected.
Whether clutter CAUSES normal people stress or not, I don’t know. But I do know that it causes ME stress.
Like I said, I’m in full nesting mode. Yes, the pregnancy books describe nesting as an end-of-pregnancy phenomenon, but I guess my hormones are overachievers. I hit the nesting zone at the EXACT same point in this pregnancy as I did with Charlotte. I swear it’s a real thing, at least for me. Lately, I’ve had this bizarre compulsion to clean, put away, reorganize, rearrange, and deep clean practically everything. I mean, I put on make-up in the morning and have this internal conversation with myself:
“I should wash—like, really DEEP clean—all my make-up brushes. But really, to do it right, I should also clean and sterilize (STERILIZE?) the plastic drawer organizer the make-up and brushes sit in. And while I’m at it, I should clean the drawer underneath the plastic organizer. And really, if I’m going to do this one drawer, I should do all of them. And if I’m going to do the drawers, I should do the cupboards too. You know, really clear out hair products that no longer work and outdated nail polish colors. Can nail polish get outdated? I should research that. And if I’m going to clean out my bathroom vanity, I should probably do Chris’s too, because he’ll never do it. Yes. As soon as I carve out some time, I’m going to . . .”
So, this was my mindset as I sat in church, essentially having my anti-clutter viewpoint utterly vindicated by the preacher man.
I touched on clutter in a recent blog post, and my views have always been pretty consistent regarding my avoidance of getting bogged down by STUFF. I’m just a little crazier right now is all.
Fortunately, something clicked for Chris during that same sermon, and that day he decided to FINALLY go through his closet and get rid of the clothes he hadn’t worn in years. I’ve been nagging him to do this for YEARS, so I was elated. We filled a couple garbage bags of nice clothes that he simply doesn’t—and won’t—wear, for myriad reasons. We went to a Goodwill drop-off that same day, and he admitted to feeling freer, lighter, less bogged down by STUFF. He felt more organized, more focused, more able to accomplish other things.
I was very proud of him, especially when I saw him line up his remaining dress shirts by color. Meanwhile, I went through Charlotte’s stuff (I had already recently done her dresser and closet), finding a couple more items to pitch. I pulled out a dark stuffed animal that I’ve never seen her play with and vacillated as to whether to give it away. Charlotte came to me and said, “Mommy, I don’t want that.” I think it struck her as scary or something. Regardless, the child had voiced her opinion. I asked her if we could give it to another little girl and she said yes. So, into the giveaway bag it went. I go through my side of the closet every two months or so and knew I was in good shape, but I still found a couple of my things to give away.
The ironic thing is, we don’t have that much clutter. We fit our cars into our teensy two-car garage, Charlotte’s toys have their appropriate bins and she has WAY fewer toys most kids her age, and so on. Sure, we all have what I call FETISHES. Chris has his thermometers (you read that right), Charlotte has her hats, and Mommy has her wrapping paper.
Kids, necessarily and much to my chagrin, bring with them a large amount of clutter. Yes, Charlotte’s sippy cups are perpetually toppling over onto the mugs in the cabinet by the sink, but you know what? We use each of those sippy cups ALL THE TIME. When Lorelei comes, we’ll add the clutter of bottles and the giant swing, and eventually the exersaucer eye sore. Totally worth it.
Husbands too bring their fair share. Chris, bless his cluttered heart, keeps too many receipts, packets of gardening seeds show up in the oddest places, he has about a thousand undershirts, many of which are ratty enough to justify a trip to the trash can, and don’t get me started on the thermometers. But compared to most guys, he’s very reasonable. I have no hat collections, bottle collections, car parts, or hunting gear to contend with. Tools are minimal, despite my dad’s efforts to get him to buy more manly crap.
To me, clutter is that stuff that contributes to messes, blocks you from getting to the object you genuinely need, has little use, and is devoid of sentimental or decorative value.
I strongly believe, nesting instinct aside, that our human—or American—compulsion to accumulate and hoard needs to be checked, corrected, and redirected from time to time. That doesn’t mean I skipped the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. Oh no, I bought Charlotte twinkle shoes (her favorite kind) a size too big to give her at Christmas and a nice fall outfit worthy of picture day, Lorelei got her own special school outfit too (don’t judge—it’s a multi-generational tradition in my family!), and Mommy bought a pair of boots she had waited two years to finally buy. I don’t feel bad about it. I’m totally biased, but surely this is a healthier approach to shopping than buying a 48-pack of x, y, or z at Wal-Mart, right? I mean, how much does someone really NEED?
And let’s face it: You can fill in any gaps—from wardrobe to pantry to household—at Target.
Of course, having a love of prettiness and a hatred of clutter is somewhat of a catch-22. For example, I adore setting a pretty table, but that requires chargers of various colors, tables linens for every season, candles and vases, and (guilty gulp) a hell of a lot of crystal and china.
I love the sensation of bringing order to chaos and prettiness to blandness. But mostly, I love the ease with which I can function with less clutter, and I think that was a big part of what the de-cluttering sermon was saying (the actual sermon was far more theologically sound and well-argued than I’m presenting here). I can see how letting go of things—mental or material—makes space for more important work. I see this in practical, day-to-day ways: I can make Charlotte’s lunch much faster when I have a clear counter surface to work on, can easily grab all the ingredients I need from the fridge and they’re not hidden behind rotting lettuce, and the pantry’s “Charlotte Shelf” has a neat stack of organic applesauce, ready for me to grab. I can put away clean laundry much faster when there is space for everything rather than trying to shove it into an overstuffed drawer. I see and thus remember the mail I need to send when it’s sitting in a neat stack alone rather than among countless other papers or envelopes.
So, then, think of what de-cluttering your HEAD and HEART could accomplish? Huh.
I won’t deny that much of my de-cluttering efforts have a control factor at play. I feel a marked reduction in anxiety when things are orderly, which I believe is also a component of obsessive–compulsive disorders—but let’s not go there. However, the REDUCTION of stuff has less of an anxiety-reducing effect and more of a LIGHTENING effect in my hormonally screwed up mind. Like I was moving through water and suddenly I’m moving through clear air. Ya know?
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