On Letting Go of Our Stuff

As a coach whose work is centered on helping people discover what belongs in their homes, I marvel at what we choose to keep, particularly when the challenges of life overwhelm us.

Whether we’re struggling through a major transition, diagnosis, sudden loss, or general overwhelm in our daily responsibilities, we may feel immobilized, unable to decide what to hold and what to release.

When we feel powerless in our lives, we naturally reach for whatever gives us a sense of safety and control, even when we know the tangible offers only temporary relief. In the throes of our very full days or unimaginable grief, we easily forget we have agency, that we are free to let go of the excess that negatively impacts us.

Photo by Linh Le at Unsplash

What could our homes–our lives–look like if we believed we had a choice in what we keep? That even when life happens to us, we get to decide what to carry with us? 

Would we still cling to the hundreds of knickknacks on our window sill? 

The countless books bending the shelves beneath them?

The closets bursting with clothes we’ll wear ‘some day?’ 

The kitchen utensils we bought ‘just in case?’

The family heirlooms we store to assuage our guilt?

What do we keep? 

And how do we decide? 

Authors Bill Shapiro and Naomi Wax wrote in their insightful book, 

What We Keep:

150 People Share the One Object that Brings them Joy, Magic, and Meaning: 

“Of the more than 300 people we spoke with, not one chose an object because of its dollar value. Our hearts are not accountants; we cling to the meaningful, not the monetary. What makes these objects so evocative for us is that they hold the memories of people, of relationships, of places and moments and milestones that speak to our own identity.  Sometimes they connect us to a time in our life  when we realized all that we were capable of. Sometimes they connect us to the best we’ve seen in others and what we aspire to be—These things not only crystalize core truths about each of us but also help us tell the stories of our life, even explain our life to ourselves. And for that reason, they’re priceless.” 

For two years now, I’ve been sitting with these fascinating stories, ever curious about the reasons we hold certain items–long after they’ve served their purpose. These stories gave me a peek into what many of us find worthy of our limited space; they speak to what we value, what we hold dear. And I’m further convinced that what we keep is rarely about The Thing. It’s about what The Thing represents: the memories, the people, or the positive sentiment The Thing evokes. 

Holding on to what we find meaningful is a valid choice, worthy of celebration.

But sometimes, letting go brings a new kind of meaning, also worthy of celebration.

For nearly two decades, I’ve treasured an old sewing machine my grandmother owned before she passed it on to me. That olive green vintage beast stitched together curtains, pillows, burp cloths, napkins, stuffed animals, clothing, and more. It fixed JEANS, good reader. JEANS. And still that trusty needle moved up and down, as if stitching a pat of butter.

The machine served our family well, surviving several moves, whether nestled in the back of a U-Haul trailer or carefully carried up and down countless steps. In an effort to better utilize our living space last year, we moved it to the basement, where it stood as a side table in our guest ‘room,’ quietly collecting dust. 

Photo by PublicDomainPictures at Pixabay

As I decluttered this fall, I realized I had not used the sewing machine in over two years. After weeks of mental deliberation, I decided to post it on Facebook Marketplace and within days, an interested local pulled into our driveway. A middle-aged woman emerged from a rickety old minivan and as I helped her load a piece of family history, I said, “This belonged to my grandmother. It has served us well–I hope it serves you, too.” With tears in her eyes, she replied in beautiful, broken English, “My mother really needs this. Thank you so much.” 

Letting go of Grandma’s sewing machine brought more meaning to our lives than if we had kept it. It provided a resource for someone in need and it freed up space in our home to better accommodate guests. Initially, I resisted because letting go felt like a rejection of my grandmother but when I peeled back the layers of resistance, I knew Grandma wasn’t the machine. She’s a loved one who exists in my memories and stories and I trust that one day I’ll be with her again. When I changed my thinking, I was free to release the heirloom, while still holding my grandma close.

Sister Mary Thomas Schiefen, from Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration in Ohio, reminds us that life is bigger than our stuff, even what we find to be meaningful. In The Things We Keep, she writes, 

“I actually do not have a desire to keep anything—except for a rosary and a few relics. I’m fortunate to have a relic of St. Thomas the Apostle–I’m named after St. Thomas–and one of St. Francis and St. Clare. You see them and you’re inspired to pray to them, to ask for special grace for everyone. You have a feeling that their spirit is there, that you have a part of them with you. On the other hand, you don’t get too attached to them. A life is so much bigger.” 

We don’t need to take a vow of poverty to realize living in excess is believing the illusion that our stuff brings lasting peace, control, or meaning to our lives. But when illusion morphs into reality, we become painfully aware that our choice to keep what we don’t need, use, or love is toxic and may lead to mental health issues. (You can read one of several articles on the connection between clutter and our mental health here .)

Excess can also keep us from a more expansive life marked by freedom, generosity, and a sense of purpose rooted in connection to the Divine and to our communities–not our possessions or the time we spend managing them. Letting go of excess allows us to make our home a safe haven, with space to live and move as we welcome others.

Photo by Sixteen Miles Out at Unsplash

B.A. Norrgard, tiny house educator and advocate, wrote in The Things We Keep,  

“My Tudor was 1,148 square feet, and now I’m living in 78 square feet. When you downsize like this, you’re surrounded by only the things you’ve loved. You’ve gotten rid of everything that clutters your vision, so everything you see around you is what you’ve chosen and what you love dearly. And my tiny house, my sanctuary, holds all of that.” 

Not all of us are called to tiny-home living nor do we have to dramatically downsize in order to surround ourselves with only what we use and love. We can keep The Thing or even a few of The Things; there’s no shame in that. But let’s also remember that The Things (and more of them) won’t bring true peace, deep healing, or the sense of purpose our souls crave. 

As we get curious about the contents of our homes, let’s be careful to get ‘too attached’ to our possessions. 

Let’s rest in the promise that we are forever held by the Divine Love who will never abandon us in the lifelong journey of letting go. 

And let’s remember that we get to write a better story for our homes–our lives–as we discover what truly belongs.

Featured image by epiphanyvp at Pixabay