It’s been four years since I began the process of decluttering, minimizing, and determining what is essential in my life. As I have experienced this process, I have evolved and grown in ways that I never expected. With repetition, letting go becomes less painful, and the lightness I feel afterward is freeing. The more I recognize I am in control, the more I allow myself to let go, and I am empowered—release, potentiating a cycle of change. I now recognize that the feelings of freedom that have surfaced have become a craving, essential to my wellbeing. I’ve tasted it, and there’s no turning back.
Four years is a long time, and finally, I have recognized the reason why paring down has taken me so long. I have neglected to address everything fully. In my adaptation of minimalism, I tried to justify overlooking the hard stuff. I thought I could do this halfway. Time and again thinking, this is enough paring down, this stuff I don’t want to address right now isn’t hurting anything. But then I realize, it still produces heaviness.
It’s time that I acknowledge; I have a basement closet full of items that I’ve attached sentiment to, and kept “just in case”. No longer can I pretend that they’re not stealing my peace and taking me away from what really matters. We’ve chiseled away so much, and I realize if I don’t do this all the way, we will be missing out.
September 7, 2020
Yesterday, once again, I let a beautiful afternoon slip by while I sorted through things in the basement. Although I crave to be done with it once and for all, I continue to straddle the precipice of sentimentality and essentialism. Even this morning as I quietly observe the sun creeping over the trees, coffee warming my hand, and my open Bible in my lap, I feel heaviness lingering. Today is Labor Day and I have the time to put this dreaded project behind me. I know I’m ready but, do I have the courage to move forward?
I’ve made so many excuses to keep things I have held onto. Vainly trying to predict the future to determine what I won't regret releasing. But as I reflect, I begin to realize I don’t have to know what the future holds to determine what is worth holding onto today. Prayerfully I open my Bible. Father lead me in Your word this morning, and my eyes land on Isaiah 43:18,19. “The Lord says, ‘Forget what happened before, and do not think about the past. Look at the new thing I am going to do, it’s already happening. Don’t you see it?” Ah God! I feel a smile creep across my face, and there is a lightening in my chest. A tangible reminder, it’s time to move forward!
Before making my decent to begin my venture, I gain momentum as I flip through my journal. Almost three months ago, I had painfully let go of mementos that I had tied to loss and sadness. As I read, I realize how healing it has been releasing those things.
June 17, 2020
“I just let go, I feel exposed, but this is who I am.” Words from a Plumb song play through my mind. The security layers. The identity layers. I’ve dug deep, and this is where I am—boxes filled with sadness, heart pain, open and dismantled. I'm left now with only a memory of the hurt, no physical evidence remaining. It’s raw, scary, uncomfortable, but real, and this is where I am. It’s who I am today. And who I am today makes all the difference in who I can become.
The things representing my losses had become a part of my identity, neatly tucked away for security. I never expected the removal of these things from my life, to open my soul in this way.In finding myself, I have uncovered unexpected emotions, soul questionings; this place, dangerous without an anchor. Tossed by emotion, fabricated identity lost. I’m so thankful I find my identity in Christ. Grounded in Him, I can move forward.
I realize standing across the precipice isn’t an option, dabbling in stripping away layers. To feel, to live open, requires full surrender, full exposure of the life buried underneath. I’m finally glimpsing daylight. Uncovered, unprotected, but real. How many times have I agreed with, ‘our identity is not in things,’ but I realize I hadn’t fully surrendered. I thought I could keep one foot planted safely in “back then,” but that nostalgic place is no longer my reality. No longer held back, I’m tasting the freedom.
Refusing to be held captive by that nasty word regret, I wonder, could we walk away from it all? I question, who’s life have I imagined that would keep me holding onto these things? Later in life, left with items to sort through, is not my dream. We get one chance at this life, and just because society says give certain items importance, we do it. Even if it means storing them in boxes indefinitely, rendering even the thought of moving, or relocating overwhelming. Dreaming forward, I see a mountain cabin or a beachside bungalow. Is this plausible if I hold onto all these items? If I am not using them now, why store them? I feel another shift. It’s time to re-evaluate. I can only imagine this new reality because of where I have been and how far we’ve come. This crazy, real, open, adventure of life. Lord, keep me focused fully on You and Your will for my life. Not my will, but Thine.
To be continued.
Listen here: Plumb “Lord I’m Ready Now”