Sometimes in life we can take a long time to get where we’re headed. Sometimes we know where we’re supposed to go and we put a foot on the path, but then we stop and play in the ditch, or chase a butterfly or come upon a fork in the road and can’t seem to choose where to go next.
Today I’ve decided to put one foot in front of the other and get going where I’m headed. Since January 2018 I’ve been courageously editing my life in order to get my walk to match my talk; to put my priorities in the right order and dig out from under a life that went off track. I’d like to invite you to join me on the journey. We’re jumping in right here, real time and I’ll fill in the back story as we go.
Because of all my hard work decluttering and digging out in 2018, when I packed away Christmas this past December I was left with this view. Empty countertops, a virtually empty bookshelf and free floor space. I simultaneously love it and despise it. I love that there aren’t piles tucked in nooks and crannies waiting to reclaim the surfaces. I love that there is space for my energetic son to play.
I despise that this empty space looks barren. That no stuff seems to equal nothingness. My living room looks like I’m getting ready to move away from this place, not live in it. I despise that now you can see how badly the walls need a fresh coat of paint and that dust is the eighth member of our family.
I’ve come to my next realization in this journey of edits. Just like working through your emotions or growing in your relationships, dealing with your stuff has layers. Letting go of what is to embrace something new doesn’t happen overnight. Cleaning a canvas to paint a new picture requires elbow grease. I want the end result, but currently I’m in the messy middle.
It hurts in a way I didn’t expect. Looking at this empty space feels personal. This is my space and if it’s empty, does that mean I am empty too? It is void of colour and personality, it’s boring. Does that mean I am boring too? At this point in my story I understand more deeply why we hold on to things. Why we fill our space with stuff. The struggle makes sense to me now. I’ve lived through the barrenness of many autumns and I know the fullness of the spring. This space feels empty now, but that emptiness leaves room for something new to begin.
That’s why it’s a journey, not simply an event. Left foot, pick a pile. Right foot, sort through it. Left foot, choose which things go. Right foot, choose which things stay. Left foot, look at all the space you created. Right foot, resist the temptation to fill the space back up. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. I keep walking down this road although I’m not sure where I’m headed, I’m not even sure where I’m placing my foot down yet.
This is just one space in my home. A space that used to be full to overflowing with clutter. A space where I can see that I’ve accomplished what I set out to do. There will be many more empty spaces before things begin to feel full again. Places I can see and places I can only feel. I’m not sure where the road will take me. I’m not sure what I’ll realize as I glance back. I do know this is my road. I do know I don’t travel it alone. I do know when we share our journeys with others we learn so much more. Come walk with me. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. On a journey through clutter in our homes, our hearts, our heads and our health clearing away the debris standing between us and life abundant.
Welcome to my story. Welcome to the courageous editing of life. Welcome to the Original Revamp.