For the past few weeks, I’ve been on a bit of a decluttering mission.
It hasn’t necessarily been intentional. But after a pretty stressful few months at the end of last year, I was feeling really compelled to simplify things.
I felt completely bogged down in clutter, in pretty much every sense of the word. And while I didn’t quite know how to tackle it, I knew something needed to give. Otherwise, the thing that gave, would most likely be me.
I started with my calendar, realising that my “lack of time” was self-inflicted by my own obsessive sense of obligation. At the height of Christmas Party season, with my mental state in tatters, I decided to make a more conscious effort to check in with myself mentally before I said yes to things. If I was feeling swamped, then “no” it was. And I forced myself not to justify it, to anyone else, or myself.
I didn’t go to a single Christmas function last year. I just declined every single thing politely.
AND IT WAS AMAZING.
At the same time, I started putting in some big effort in decluttering my head. I’m a worrier by nature, as well as a perfectionist, which are probably my two worst traits. As 2018 drew to a close, I was almost overcome with worrying about EVERYTHING, most of which I had no control over. I felt disempowered, insufficient, and as though I was just couldn’t follow through on anything properly. There were too many things, and not enough brain capacity.
I was finding myself in a state of overwhelm as more and more possessions kept finding their way into the house (as is the way of things around Christmas), creating more clutter, taking up more space, and making me feel even more claustrophobic.
I came to realise it was time to start letting some things go – figuratively, and literally.
Thus – although I’m not really a resolutions kinda gal – by default, 2019 has become my year of “less”.
Less life admin.
Less extra shifts.
Less obligatory social stuff.
Less social media.
Less physical clutter.
Basically simplifying the shit out of my life.
We’re a week into the New Year, and for the past few weeks, I’ve been consciously putting this stuff into practice.
I’ve been re-housing household items for days, either by selling off stuff, or donating. I’ve been declining work shifts, and really thinking hard about which social invitations I’m accepting. I’m giving myself permission to just stay home sometimes, for a whole day, just because I want to. I’ve cut back my social media use exponentially.
I’m essentially minimising the shit out of the pile of stuff that’s been causing me stress.
And do you know what?
I feel like I can breathe again.
I’m trying to teach myself that I am valuable intrinsically, without proof of productivity or busy-ness. I’m reminding myself to ask for help, a hell of a lot more than I ever have. And I’m trying to give myself permission to feel okay about that.
I’ve come to learn that you really can’t prioritise anything, if you prioritise EVERYTHING. And bringing more stuff into the mix just compounds, rather than relieves, the pressure.
This is my year of less.
And so far, it seems to be true what they say.
Less is more.
Look after yourselves, loves.