Are you, like me, someone who struggles with letting go of things?

Good afternoon, @honeydue

I found your post really interesting.

I’ve been living on my own for a few years now. I spent most of my youth living with my parents, with whom I shared a home, along with my brother and sometimes my grandmother as well.

In 2010, I moved into my own place. I’d taken the big step. I know it wasn’t that long ago, but at the time I felt “all grown up.” Everything was exciting. Choosing which of the things from my old room I wanted to bring to my new one. Three whole rooms all to myself.

At the time, the house seemed huge. I lived alone. The corners, the shelves, and the drawers gradually filled up. Some important things were in there, of course. But many were there simply because, when I’d decided to keep them, I hadn’t really planned when I might eventually need them. Or whether, in the worst-case scenario, I’d ever even see them again, or use them.

That’s how it goes. Always. Whenever there’s a void in our homes—or within us—we end up feeling uncomfortable. We end up filling it with something that may not even be meaningful, but that certainly isn’t insignificant.

And we’re left with a “false” sense of comfort—the idea that if one day we need to remember something or use something, we’ll have it within reach or in our possession.

But the reality is much closer to what Marie Kondo describes. Many… or most of the things we keep, we can’t even list, or know where they’re stored. They’re organized according to our thinking at the time, and sometimes they occupy important places in our hearts—or even on a prominent shelf in our living room!

Back in 2020… we in Portugal were under mandatory lockdown. Since I was working a hybrid schedule—combining in-person and remote work—during the first two weeks I spent at home, I found myself coming face-to-face with what Marie Kondo was saying. I’m not even sure how I “discovered” her; I just know that everything she said made sense to me.

So I decided to embark on this “adventure.” Room by room, I emptied drawers, closets, boxes, and everything else. I’d pile everything in the center of a room and, from that veritable mountain of items, choose what I actually needed. The rest, I ended up donating or simply setting aside—I wasn’t as capable as I thought I’d be, so I packed them into cardboard boxes that are now in the attic of my house.

The process wasn’t easy.

I have to say that from 2010—the year I officially started filling up my house—until 2020, a lot had happened in my life. Unfortunately, in the same year—2012—four months apart, my grandmother and my father passed away. Since then, my house had taken in some of my father’s clothes, which were in excellent condition.

I noticed that when the day came to tidy up the room, a strong wave of emotion washed over me. Seeing the clothes my father used to wear, just lying there… in a “pile.” It gave me a sharp pang deep in my heart. I’ve always been someone who gets attached to things easily and has a hard time throwing them away or admitting I no longer need them.

By the end of that afternoon, I had set aside a lot of clothes.

It was a very tough day, emotionally speaking. I followed Marie Kondo’s advice to the letter. I carefully folded every piece of clothing—both the ones I was going to put back in the closets, which were now vacuumed and spotless, and the ones I was going to donate.

It was hard.

I cried.

I cried like I hadn’t in a long time. In the end, I took a long, hot shower and lay down in my freshly made bed, with ironed sheets (I usually skip this step, since I consider it a waste of electricity).

The next day, after dropping off the clothes at the community aid store, I returned home. I felt embraced by the “warmth” of a strong hug that a father gives his son. Like the hugs my father used to give me, which I miss so much today.

It was hard, but it helped me grow a lot.

One of these days I’ll definitely write a post about this topic, because, as you can see, it’s something that means a lot to me and that helped me grow as a person on the inside.

Thank you for reminding me of such an important two weeks in my life.