Griefwork: Keeper or thrower?

I skipped spring cleaning in 2010, 2011, and 2012. Twice a year, usually, I sort through closets, exchange out winter and summer clothing and shoes, find all the dust bunnies under beds and in heating/cooling ducts, eradicate the house of piles, and get rid of things we no longer use (like broken toys, knick knacks, books that no longer enchant me, and clothes we no longer fit). For some reason, in 2010, I froze. I couldn't do it. And as 2010 became 2011, it became overwhelming. As one season melted into the next, the piles grew larger and larger, and what was once a week-long task loomed almost too large to tackle. I was at a complete loss. I had no idea why I'd quit - and no idea how to start now, with the enormous back-log I'd created for myself.

Linking arms with aunts and mama, with grandchildren happy as clams up with grandpa and grandma for a week, I started the process on the main floor. I called it Operation Spring-Cleaning Catch-Up. It took about a day for me to realize what halted the process back in 2010. While I was cleaning the dining room table, which had become a sanctuary for piles of bills we couldn't pay and papers we didn't know what to do with, I kept coming across things that made my stomach turn. Old letters from church people begging us to repent and return back in 2010. Artwork I made while struggling through the worst depression of my life in 2011. Letters from my children when I was in the hospital, begging me to get well and come home to them. So much bitter, so much bittersweet.

Again and again, I had to walk away from the piles. Go out to the air on the porch, hot, humid and heavy with the July heat wave. The air felt as oppressive as my spirit. But the sun burned right through the darkness I tried to hide myself in behind my eyelids and lit up that dark room all the way to the corners...lit up those memories, those pieces of paper I was dreading. And as I watched, it was if they all caught fire and drifted away in cinders.

I realized I'd been living in a haunted house. I couldn't face the process of ridding the house of all this built-up bad. So it got buried on the table, or shoved under the bed along with an empty Oreo tray and a crunched up beer can, the refuse of another bad stab at coping. Cleaning it all out - the triggers of my grief along with all the evidence of my burying the grief - was like rubbing the dirt out of an old, festering wound. Hurts like *mmmhmmm while you're scrubbing, but there's hope like never before when you see those clean pink edges of a wound beginning to heal. A wound healing. A clean wound. One you can look at without curling back your lips in disgust.

Image credit: Dorothea Lange, 1936

Cleaning out my grandma's kitchen after she died was a lesson in hoarding. Her house wasn't chock-full like you might see on the T.V. show. But the cupboards were full of cans dating back to before I was born. She was from utilitarian German stock, lived through the Depression on a hog farm in South Dakota. To her, everything had a function and you'd eventually use it, if hard pressed enough. Now I wonder, is this where it all began, for me? Is this why I am a hider, a hoarder, and a saver when it comes to grief? Why I can't look it in the eye and toss it in the garbage can and wipe my hands of it and walk away?

Image credit

The other side of my family, my mother's side, are nomads. Native Americans and French Canadian voyageurs, people who lived sparse lives carrying only necessities and the clothes on their backs. My mother is decidedly better than me at saving a few key things to remind herself when grieving, and letting go of the rest. I doubt her grief would have kept her from cleaning her house for 3 years.

How about you? Have you ever faced such crippling grief or psychological pain that you had an extreme reaction to your surroundings in your home? Which reaction did you have - did you pitch it all and start fresh, or try to push it aside and ignore it? Can you identify with me when I say I've been living in a "haunted house"? How did it feel once you reclaimed your house?

Linked to Michelle

Organized Simplicity - Week 1

I saw Tsh Oxenreider speak at the Relevant conference in October. She spoke about finding where your talents and passions collide, finding your sweet spot, that place where you are your best self.

A few months later, I heard on Twitter that her book, Organized Simplicity, was free for Kindle that day only. I downloaded it and skimmed it (one of the downfalls of e-readers, in my opinion). I knew immediately that I wanted to give it a try. I live in a cluttered house - two single people got married and merged all their stuff, then we inherited more from parents and grandparents, and, add kids to the mix...well, you get the picture. Almost everything in our house is useful - with a caveat: about every 2 years or so, I'll use something I haven't even thought of for years.

The problem with that is I have a house that's very hard to keep clean. There is the constant influx of laundry - we own too many clothes for each person. The toys scattered through every room of the house. The art/school corner that hasn't been tidy since my oldest was in first grade. The table and kitchen island that collect odds and ends and piles of mail. The pantry that hasn't ever been bare but you still can't find all the ingredients for a single meal.

And so, I shelled out for the ring-bound hardcover copy of Tsh's book. I can't recommend it enough. She lays out a simple yet detailed plan for decluttering and reorganizing your house so that your house works for you, instead of you working for your house.

I started Saturday on the kid's playroom. Tsh recommends starting in one of your main living areas - the kitchen or living room, for instance. I chose the playroom because I know the other rooms will be even more time consuming, and I wanted to create a haven for my kids so that I can clean without interruption as I work my way through the rest of the house.

Last week, our neighbor's house burned down. They happen to have children the same ages and sizes of our kids, so that lit the fire for me to start cleaning. I've donated 14 lawn bags of clothing, bedding, and toys - some to Saver's and some to this needy family - since Saturday. 16 lawn bags of trash have been hauled out to the truck for a trip to the dump. The children's room is beginning to take shape. Furniture pieces and closets emptied out (finally), I am able to start reorganizing the room so it is more functional for the kids to play in. There is a girl zone (dolls, kitchen, "restaurant" and art/game table) and a boy zone (a trunk full of cars, the train table, balls, and a little toddler reading corner). One dresser has been hidden in the closet, and the other acts as a room divider now.

Even though the room isn't done yet, I am beginning to see it take shape. And it will make cleaning simpler. My kids are 8, 7, 5 and 4 now, and they are perfectly able to sort toys into appropriate bins and trunks once they are done playing. By eliminating broken or seldom used toys, they are left with a smaller number of things to play with - but things that make imaginative play more of a realistic option.

While this hasn't been easy for me, especially with health problems continuing to plague me, I feel like I have a doable goal in mind. Thanks to Tsh's encouraging book, I feel like it might finally be possible to take control of my mess and clutter and live in a house that looks a little more Pinterest and a little less garbage dumpster.

If you wish to join me on my decluttering endeavor, check out Tsh's book and blog through your process. Tell us what was difficult for you, give us the weekly tally of junk thrown out and goods donated. What is your favorite thing about decluttering? What has changed in your life since you started to live in a simpler home?