These past few weeks, I’ve been having a clear out of my room. I just have too much stuff and I got a little irritated that I had no free space to put things anymore.
When I attempted previous clear-outs, I only end up throwing away maybe five things at most. Unless something is broken and completely useless, I will keep it. It didn’t matter if I hadn’t used it in years. It didn’t matter if it was a bit worn out and that getting a new one would’ve been better than keeping it. For some reason, I’ll hold on to it.
But recently, it’s just gotten too much and I decided. I NEED to get rid of some stuff.
So out came a large plastic bag. And in it went all the clutter that I didn’t need anymore.
And the strangest thing was… it felt easy. Easier than it ever did the last times I tried. Suddenly, it was a simple case of pick up, do I need this, do I want this? No? Okay, in the bag it goes. It was fast and felt kind of ruthless, but it did the job.
As I was clearing out, I realised something. There were a lot of things in my room that weren’t really mine.
I don’t mean they weren’t mine because I didn’t own them. I did own them. But they weren’t things I personally sought out for myself. These were things given to me or I had bought to ‘be part of the crowd’ (I used to really seek approval before I felt okay about something, and most often, I’d have to conform to get it). And it occurred to me, these were also the things I had the most trouble throwing away. And these were the things you would see occupying my desk space.
If you walked into my room, I think it only half-reflects who I am. The other half the clutter of what other people have given me and I decided to follow. And the latter half is what you’d normally see first with my own things carefully tucked away somewhere. My room was cluttered with other people’s things. The same way my life is.
My head is so full of what other people think. Their advice, their own thoughts, the things they think I should be doing. Why? Well because I’m not brave enough to do what I think I should be doing. I’m not brave enough to want what I want.
I’m too afraid to let go of the ideas other people give to me. The truth is, I have very often thought that other people’s ideas for me were more valid than my own.
I could even go as far as saying, I don’t really know what I want. Someone else tell me.
But that’s a lie. I think I do know what I want. I’m just too afraid to believe it because I don’t trust myself. In actuality, I did want someone to tell me what I wanted. But I was waiting for them to tell me what I was thinking and to convince me it was okay for me to want it. I wanted reassurance.
I’ll be honest. A lot of the choices I make are actually made because I think I should make them. Does that make sense?
I know it’s a problem. My thoughts are made of what I truly think. But my actions stem from what others think. My subconcious thought process goes something like this.
They told me that I should do this. They’re probably right. What do I know, anyway?
But suddenly it felt so much easier now to get rid of the things I don’t need or don’t want anymore. I suddenly felt that I don’t want to be surrounded mostly by other people’s things anymore. I want a little more room for my own things. I want to tell people a little more about me. I don’t want to hide myself away anymore. I’m going to try and be brave.
Of course I’m not throwing absolutely everything away. That would be hasty. There are gifts that do mean something and I’ll gladly display it in my room as it does indeed reflect a bit of me. But for the things that no longer serve any purpose to me anymore, the things I no longer want or need… they’ll be thrown away (or donated). Now, hopefully, I’ll have a little more free space for myself and my own things.
Deep down, while I was uncluttering my room, what I really wanted was to unclutter my life. My life is so full of all the ‘clutter’ that other people have given me but it’s no one’s fault but my own. I’m too afraid to do otherwise. I can’t ‘not care’ about what others think or say. All because I trust them more than I can trust myself.
In the end, my room was a metaphor for my life. And now is the time for a late Spring clean.
Admitting this was difficult. Writing it even more so. By posting it, I’m taking the courage to move forward. And hopefully I will be brave enough to declutter my actual life.