De-cluttering is a necessity as I attempt to squeeze my life into my Toyota Yaris. I am by no means a hoarder. But I am maybe a ‘I cant throw that away because I feel guilty’ kind of human. What is it about throwing away clutter that makes us feel so guilty? Is it because we may have spent a few quid on it? Or we don’t wanna be wasteful? Or do we worry that because it was gifted to us the person might mention something about it. ( seriously Ciara.. your aunt isn’t gonna interrogate you about the bag she bought you 8 years ago!!!)
As I am moving overseas and entering a new phase in my life I feel its time to reduce my ‘baggage’. Time to unleash the minimalist buried beneath the guilt. Enter ruthless Ciara. If it hadn’t worn it in a year – IT’S GONE, no excuses. I initially set an intention to take the organised approach and sort one possession at a time, Less mess, less stress kinda theory. Silver space boots- GONE. Blue dress my mum got me for an U16’S GAA dinner dance (that I couldn’t come to wear cause I wouldn’t look cute but didn’t have the heart to throw it out and thought maybe possibly one day I would find an occasion it would suit)- GONE. Mermaid blanket- GONE. Guitar once promised to learn but never played- GONE. Might seem like I’m doing okay but jayyyyyyysus five minutes in I’ve had a breakdown and I’m lying on a mountain of clothes on my bed mindlessly scrolling through my news feed.
Okay so I’m back at it and I get a good run for about half an hour and get rid of heaps! Then I find a bag full of tickets from my travels to Croatia last year and BOOM before I know it I’m back on the mountain of shite, posting throwbacks of island life, clutter continuing to invade my personal space.
Isn’t it funny how we become emotionally attached to our things. I know I don’t need things but sometimes feel unwilling to let go. A shirt might hold the memory of a cherished loved one now gone. A dress might carry stories from travels. Silver boots might remind you how your not cool enough to carry out that trend. Turns out fabric and thread held more meaning than I thought.
So as my Wicklow journey comes to an end, my suitcase filled with de-cluttered belongings that are packed with years of memories and dodgy style phases will bring all of my girlfriends together, for an evening of food, chats, laughs and suitcase rummaging one last time. As the saying goes one mans trash is another mans treasure. Could my possessions have a second life? I feel so content, so satisfied, I have changed internally and feel like what surrounds me should too. I have removed what no longer serves me and I now feel like my life may fit in my Toyota Yaris. Seriously though? What was I thinking with the silver spaceboots?
If I could give you any advice, have a little clear out, it’s good for the soul.
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