Outgrowing & Releasing Old Identities

There is so much decluttering happening in my house right now. We had to get things out before pictures were taken of the house to be put on the housing market. The plan is to go live on the first of April. At first, we just needed the house to look clean and spacious. Now we need everything to look as decluttered as possible, so that means lessening things in the linen closet, our walk-in closet, the pantry, and everything else people can open.

It is not too hard for me to declutter. I have been doing it for years. That doesn’t mean it came easily. I grew up not ever really having anything of my own. We moved so much, I had to leave all of my things behind. Every time, we only packed our clothes.

Because of this, every place I lived in after I was finally independent was so cluttered. I couldn’t part with a single thing I bought. I wasn't as bad as the hoarders you see on TV, but I was a pro at finding space where there is no space. Josh actually told me that when I moved in with him. Thanks to my experience living in Japan, I have the ability to do that.

However, I didn’t know how much stuff I had accumulated! I made more space for the shoes I kept adding to my growing collection, and for my newfound love for wine, and more.

One day in June of 2013, I separated from the Air Force, and Josh was making his way to separation as well. We decided to move to New Mexico, and the plan was to sell the house early enough so we could be out of Montana, where we were stationed, the day Josh wore his uniform for the last time.

I separated four months before he did. So I started packing things up. We rented a storage unit to put all the things we didn’t immediately need, and I got the house decluttered enough to make it look good. We were under contract so fast! We barely had the house on the market for a week. So we lived in our decluttered house for about two months before we had to be out of there.

(Not my house, but a good representation of how cluttered every space I had was.)

During those two months, I noticed how amazing the house felt. It was as though a fog had lifted, and it gave me energy. It felt like I was living in gloom but surrounded by all of my things — to feeling like the darkness lifted, the house felt good and bright, and I was energized by it.

I wasn’t sure how to take what I was noticing. I still had all of my stuff in storage, and I had no intention of getting rid of any of it.

Now fast forward to when we moved into our next home.

We unpacked our entire household within one week. We left no boxes unopened, except for our camping gear, which ended up in our attic. I was proud of us for moving so quickly. A couple of years went by, and I was browsing through my closet for clothes to wear for the day and thought about how amazing it felt when I packed up all the things I didn’t use. So I started pulling out clothes I had not worn since we moved there. I told Josh about what I was doing, and he felt like it was a good idea.

Decluttering the closet alone felt amazing. But it wasn’t as good as it felt when I decluttered the entire house in Montana. So I started working on the rest of the house, little by little. Eventually, the house looked and felt much better. Since then, Josh and I decided to have a rule that if something wasn’t used in two years, it would be removed from the house — whether that be in the trash, donated, or sold.

I loved this newfound feeling so much that I have been keeping up with it all these years.

Then I got my massage license and started understanding that the human body isn’t just a bundle of nerves. Yes, everything is a chemical reaction in the brain, but every new experience is a new “weave” of neuron connections in the brain, literally creating new memories and experiences.

Your brain will remember everything without you really thinking about it. With that, I learned why I had all this clutter and why it was hard for me to let go of things, because they all had meaning to me, according to my brain. But I also started understanding that you can create new memories and experiences.

Which explains why decluttering became easier, because I recognized how good it felt to me and I liked it. I also kept up the decluttering, and it became my norm, which helped my brain re-weave the fear of decluttering into how good decluttering felt.

Not just the sentimental part — it was feeding into my experiences of having nothing. I finally had my first space I could call mine and had the means to buy anything and everything. Me accumulating things gave me a perceived joy of owning anything I wanted. I unknowingly kept things that served me no purpose, but proved that I owned things.

When I realized that, I met my decluttering coach, and what do you know — I still had a lot of things I held on to and never really gave much thought to.

These were the things with actual sentimental value, good and bad. For example, I had a little “treasure box” that held things symbolizing what made me happy. Mind you, I had no idea I did this. I looked at it one day, and it made me wonder. So I took a picture of it and sent it to my decluttering coach, and she told me to bring it to our next session.

We uncovered the contents together. It had a key to my mom’s house, symbolizing the time I returned home to my mother; a little picture hanger, which symbolized my husband who made things happen; a folded-up piece of paper, which was a secret letter my niece gave me telling me her frustrations; and more. All good things. She told me it was my treasure box.

On the other hand, there was a ring in my jewelry box that I had not worn in over 20 years. We uncovered that this ring symbolized my stepmother’s “good side.” She was horrible, but every once in a while she would do something to remind me how good she was to me. Buying that ring for me on my 16th birthday was one of those moments. There was a part of me that held onto the hope that she would become the mother she was supposed to be, and that is what the ring symbolized — truly, my hope.

She helped me say goodbye to the part of me that held onto that hope and let it rest in peace. I cleaned the ring as a symbol of washing my past away and donated it.

Decluttering is not easy because of our attachments to items. Some hold hope, what once was, who we were, etc. Ultimately, they all symbolize a version of us, and it is hard to let go of some of the versions or identities the items represent.

What parts of you do you want to keep with you in your next venture? The versions you do not want to keep — declutter with intention and take action to let that part of you go. Grieve and give thanks to that person you knew who no longer is, and start your next chapter without that literal baggage.