The latest purge in my home has hit a point where I feel empty. And not empty in the negative sense. Empty like I have nothing left to worry about.
In the course of 3 months (since we moved) I have watched the alarmed look on my husband’s face as I kept downsizing my/our stuff.
He’s worried that we’ll have to start replacing things we might need.
I try to explain to him that I’m only decluttering items that we, I, in particular, haven’t touched in more than a year.
Around 9 years ago, maybe 10, I lived in shared accommodation. I would move in with other women in their homes and I would have my own bedroom, but there would be no room for the rest of my stuff.
90% of it was in storage. I had enough belongings to fill a one-bedroom apartment but would just leave it in their garage or in a storage unit off-site because the homes I shared would already be furnished.
In those months and years, I lived with very few belongings which made me realise just how little I need to live my day-to-day life.
All I needed was my bed, clothes and maybe a little shelf for my books.
These were some of the happiest days of my life. I felt free. I had no need to go rummaging into my stored boxes to find something, ever.
I try to explain this to my worried husband that you’d be surprised with how little you can actually live with.
While I still have more things I would like to pass on and donate I have decided that for now I am done.
With a less decluttered home, I feel mentally sharper and quicker on my feet.
Whether we admit it or not, the more stuff we have the more stress we’ll experience.
I know everything I do own and I don’t have to search for anything. And everything that remains has a home.