What else can go?

This morning I had a clear-out. This turned out to be the second part of a clear-out that began on Wednesday evening this week when I spent a good few hours going through my belongings and picked out things to keep, things to recycle, things to donate and things to toss. After a while, the more stuff I cleared out, the more I wanted to clear out.

"What else can go?" became my mantra.

My hallway is now lined with bags, boxes and other worldly goods. To the casual observer stopping by, it might look as if I was packing to move out, when in actual fact I have discovered I am packing to stay.

I'm clearing out everything I no longer need, and making space for me and for new things and new experiences. By letting go of what I no longer need, I free up space to be myself, to be me, to just be Lynn.

Whilst clearing out the clutter, I came to the realisation that the real reason I had put off doing it for so long was because deep down I had this feeling that if I cleared it, it would only return, so why bother? It's not as if clutter is like dirty dishes, it's not as if it's going to pile up, and start to smell and I won't have any plates to eat my dinner. It might gather dust, and be a visual reminder of all the unnecessary and unfinished things in my life, but I can learn to ignore that and tell myself it doesn't bother me (when really it did)

Then I realised that's the equivalent of saying, "I won't pay off my credit card this month because I'll only end up with a credit card statement again." Not if I choose to be conscious and mindful of what I'm spending, not if I choose to pay cash, or to manage my money differently.

But how can I learn to manage my money differently if I have money that I owe the credit card companies, or other financial commitments? If I'm weighed down by this feeling that none of the money I earn is mine to keep?

What if I reminded myself that this is only temporary? That once I have cleared the clutter, I have a choice what I let into my flat, I have a choice not to fill up those empty spaces, perhaps even to leave them clear and free?

And what if by clearing those spaces, I actually leave space for things I want in the future to fill them? What if it almost creates a natural vacuum, where the right things will inevitably be drawn to that space?

And what if those new things will truly reflect who I am now and who I have become?

Lynn
Dyspraxic Pioneer