Clutter and Clarity

I just snapped out of it. 

Recently. 

And by “snapped out of it,” I mean I came out of some sort of hibernation I’ve been in for the last 8 or 10 or 15 years, ever since all the Really Hard Years commenced when I almost (metaphorically) drowned. 

I’ve been TRYING to snap out of it, really I have, but I suppose I wasn’t ready before now. 

But it happened, and … like SHAZAM … I got the mental fortitude to BE THIS PERSON who can clean out the garage after eight years, but how that came about is probably a whole nother post for a later time.   

I saw a quote this week that said something about the clutter in your house is a reflection of your psychological health or some such, and you can buy all the organization tubs and whatnot but  won’t be able to actually conquer the clutter until you’re ready to face the things you have not been able to face. 

And wow… lightbulb moment. My HOME hasn’t been cluttered, really, I mean, not TOO bad; it’s the garage that’s been filled to the GILLS since we moved into this house eight years ago. 

EIGHT YEARS AGO. 

But when I saw that quote, it all made sense… there’s so much out there that I have been unable to face. 1,072 Rubbermaid tubs full of stuff that somewhere deep down I knew could potentially rip my guts out. 

And you know what it is? 

My kids’ toys, notebooks, diaries, shoes, school supplies, art, paraphernalia … from their childhood. I could not face it. There are reasons why and there are stories that maybe someday I will talk about… maybe. 

But I woke up and decided that now is the time to face it. I didn’t even realize I was “facing it” until I was 75% through my garage-cleaning project and realized that it had, in fact, been quite a therapeutic process. And all I wanted to do was have a clean and organized garage I can park my car in. So win-win, really. 

This cleaning and purging of all the closets and ALL THE THINGS commenced a few weeks ago. The closets are cleaned, I moved on to the garage, and as I was cleaning and organizing and opening tubs of things I haven’t laid eyes upon in eight years, I thought, this is so easy and so satisfying and I don’t know why I took so long to clean all this out… 

But that quote explained it. I could not face this before. I can finally face it. 

I have experienced the full range of emotions, going through their things. Reading their entries in their Justice journals. Finding a few Barbie dolls that were moldy beyond recognition because of damp and dirt in the garage. I had to throw three Barbies in the trash because they couldn’t be salvaged, and while it made me just a smidgen amount of sad about it, it didn’t CRUSH MY SOUL the way it would have a few years back, to throw three of their Barbie dolls in the trash. 

And if you are my therapist or one of my BFFs, you know the story of why it would have crushed my soul a few years ago… and that’s why I couldn’t face this garage project. *It’s a long and painful story of taking my kids and their Barbies and escaping through the (figurative) flames, and may not be for this blog. Or… maybe. Someday. 

And maybe that’s why I couldn’t clean out the garage… because somewhere, deep down, I knew the Barbies and the flames must be faced and dealt with and it would hurt. 

I call that healing. I have HEALED to such an extent that I can not only FACE all of the childhood paraphernalia, but throw. some. of. it. in. the. trash. 

Let it go. 

How about that. 

Three Barbies. I wondered if one of them was Abby Hudson. They all had names, these Barbies, and I probably knew their names once upon a time, because they were so special to my little girls. The Barbies went everywhere with us. At one time we had a playroom that was so full of Barbie swag that we called it Barbie City. 

I thanked (mentally, not out loud) the three moldy Barbies for the role they played in my little girls’ lives, told them (mentally, not out loud) how loved they were, once upon a time, and I let them go. 

If it seems crazy that someone has a hard time facing and letting go of some clutter without some dramatic eight-year-long WHOLE THANG, be thankful that your story isn’t interwoven with so much pain and trauma that facing it and letting go of it is a process that takes eight years. 

I did keep MOST of the Barbies, btw. And hey… I can also park my car in the garage now. I have been set free, AND I can park in the garage. 

It’s kind of a big deal.