Space

The final frontier.

Well I got my goddess pose, and it was great, as always. Today we were reminded to leave room for opportunity and ourselves, and to take up space because we’re worth it. I think I’m doing that. I personally also need to remember to not leave dead space. I am really good at wasting time. Like gold-medal good. Some people hate sitting still and doing nothing. There are times when I’m like that, but for the most part I really enjoy being quiet and alone and passive. That’s great for like a short amount of time on occasion, especially for busy people, but I am pointedly not a busy person, and I can lose myself in that. Of the seven, I am most guilty of sloth.

But I can combat this by drinking coffee. It used to be that caffeine didn’t really do anything to me, but in the last five-ish years, I lose my goddamned mind when I get some. I just had six ounces of light roast and holy shit, I think my heart is going to burst out of my chest, and just sitting here is excruciating. Like, I’m happy that I’m typing and getting this out and being productive, but fuck me do I feel an intense urge to clean the entire house. I’m in the middle of that already, I was just thinking, okay, take ten minutes to write a little of a post then get back to it, but I am really itching to get back up and move furniture.

So I got a new (to me) dining table from my mom (hence the need to move furniture). It’s about 100 years old and was made by the mother of a friend of my grandparents (so like, the generational equivalent of my great-grandmother, and I’m a 31 year old lady whose grandparents were born in the 20s). I think it’s especially cool because it’s woodworking done by a woman in probably the 1930s, and I like the look of it–it reminds me of a viking hall which is the feel I’ve always wanted for a dining room. I also grew up around this table, I had birthday parties around it, put together puzzles on it, played house underneath it, so it’s admittedly sentimental.

The only issue is we already have a dining room table that we got a few years ago off Amazon. I got a counter-height, square table that we really loved for the time we had it. It did come damaged from the warehouse, multiple edges chipped, so when I advised Amazon, I got a deep discount on it (since there was no way it was getting shipped back) and that made me love the table even more. Over the years I’ve done a number of crafts on it, so there are some gashes and paint stains and hot glue globs stuck to it, and remember it started out banged up, so it’s not in the kind of shape that most other people would want, so I’m in the process of figuring out what to do with it and its chairs (too high for the new one). I do not like to hoard, so things must be useful, or they must go.

I’m a fan of space, but not of waste.

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Letting Go

Saying goodbye to Tampa, to work, to my friends, these things will be hard. But saying goodbye to my stuff? Dear Reader, there is little else in the world I love as much as throwing shit away.

Hands down, the best part of moving is the opportunity one gets to purge. I don’t even think Husband and I acquire that much stuff in general, and yet there is always something that can just get the fuck out of my house. I have been donating stuff left and right–clothes, books, small kitchen appliances–and I keep finding more!

The last time we moved, from three bedrooms to two no less, I didn’t get this exact opportunity, so I am going hog wild (except kinda the opposite of a hog). I am sort of utilizing Marie Kondo’s KonMari method, but to be honest I haven’t read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, I’ve just read articles and watched some YouTubers try it. Sidenote: If you ever need to clean, but you don’t want to, watch a YouTuber organize something. Motivation will come swiftly. (Brittany is my favorite.)

My favorite part of what I understand of the KonMari method, and probably the most popular part, is the concept that the things you keep should “spark joy.” You hold everything in your hands and you assess the feelings that thing stirs in you. If you truly feel joy, you keep that thing. If not, bye bitch!

Too often we keep things because we think we should, but we don’t utilize them properly or at all, and they end up causing us anxiety and taking up space that could be better filled by something we love or maybe nothing at all–empty space itself deserves more credit, I think. Imagine looking into your closet and thinking “I love everything in here!” That’s #fuckinggoals or whatever the kids say.

In order to do this, though, you have to be able to say goodbye to things. And in the case of KonMari, that might literally mean saying “goodbye.” Kondo suggests speaking directly to items and thanking them for their service to you in order to let go. Does this seem crazy? Yes. Does it work? YES. I guess Kondo considers stuff to be alive? I would be lying is I said I didn’t feel bad when I knock down a teddy bear, but that’s because it has a face. And yet, when I think about my stuff, especially the stuff I really treasure, I guess I kind of do assign human characteristics to it. Those things that have impacted my life carry their own stories and trigger specific emotions, and really isn’t that all any of us do anyway? We’re just walking, talking stories, after all.

There are a number of things I’ve read about being in the book that I am sure I disagree with (I will wear baggy sweats to bed or out on the town, I do not give two shits, and she can’t convince me I need to wear something “elegant” to bed because I know I’m going to sweat overnight and be a “hotmess” in the morning either way), but I do think Kondo’s heart is in the right place. She wants you to value your things so you can value yourself. Sometimes it’s really tough to love yourself, so you have to start somewhere else, somewhere easier. And it’s really easy to love a shirt.

I’m decluttering to make moving easier, of course, but ultimately I want to shift out all the bullshit in my house because I want to cultivate an environment in which I can thrive. I want to be creative, but I can’t do that around clutter. Messiness makes me anxious, and having access to the things I need lets me jump headfirst into tasks. Kondo promises right in the title that tidying up will change your life. Our big move, surely, will be life-changing, but clearing out all the nonsense will be a nice boost too.