The curious act of decluttering life

Let that stuff go

I don’t need it. Out loud, there I said it.

I no longer need, things in boxes I hadn’t seen for long enough to forget the content.

I no longer need you. When your absence is replaced with peace and contentment.

I no longer feel a tendency to hold anyone else’s bullshit in my hands while they, stroll across my heart, leaving foul muddy footprints on my soul. The objects triggering the discomfort are taking up space, where joy is waiting in line with happiness, to reside.

The more I let go, the lighter I became. My grip loosens.

My palms no longer pinched by the blush of sweaty fingers, clinging to an attachment, which no longer serves me well.

As often as moving frequently has provided opportunities to declutter material possessions, emotional attachment has been far easier to pack into the corners of my mind, long enough I forget it is there.

In 2013 hoarding disorder entered the Data and Statistical manual (DSM) for the first time, to pathologize, the unrelenting compulsion of excessive accumulation, impacting on function. Hoarding is filled with more than objects of material weight, it comes with physical and emotional distress, with its overwhelming impact on your life. It is no surprise to tackle one requires carefully navigating of the emotions glued to the attachment.

I’m not here to discuss or unpack hoarding, I am acutely aware of the justifications & reasons (reasonable or otherwise), of why a parent or individual may gather objects. Bowlby posited his theories of why human beings have an innate need for emotional bonds with others, as important for human survival as all other needs. It goes without exploring deeply, if connecting is intrinsic to our survival and it goes horribly wrong, is a broken connection as significant in its impact as withholding food, shelter, safety?

Individuals gather and hoard objects for a multitude of reasons; some rather practical (we still have remarkable generations of make do and repair). While others remain a reminder, of significant moments of time too difficult to part with or to painful to forget. It is these possessions which have the potential to reinforce attachment.

The key to determining if decluttering needs a place on your schedule, is asking yourself, is this impacting negatively on my health & wellbeing? Am I weighed down with emotional overload of historical events, relationships and experiences? Do I find it difficult to ‘let things go’, either material possessions or emotional connections (that clearly, no longer exist)? If the answer is yes, we can relate.

We are no longer a generation of ‘menders’, although my adult children still pass me buttons to repair, hems to take up and revamp an item or two. However, this is 2025; the throw out, cheaper to buy new and waste world of today and tomorrow. So much waste, the world has floating islands of human consumption, suffocating sea life.

Clutter not only impacts on our own lives, it is having a catastrophic impact on the planet. I am feeling her pain & suffering. Clutter weighs me down, too much & it can become suffocating. The more to clean, the more time is needed to clean it. The more emotional attachment to the past, the less space there is for the present moment. Clutter takes up space, in your home, in your life, in your body and your mind.

Behind attachment to objects can be a mindful of emotions. Your ability to recognise these emotions and attachments is key to decluttering and it’s not easy; keep reading, I’ve made a few tips at the end. It took a long time for to part with my son’s belongings after his death, to hold each & every one was to be as close as I could get without him here, forever more.

As fast as we learn more about the devastating impacts of human waste, the rate of emotional clutter rises, leading to unresolved feelings. With its anxiety, depression, stress, keeping the amygdala (our alarm system) stuck in on position, psychological clutter can be life threatening.

In this finger tapping, quick response time we exist, flood of information, I’m curious, has the consumption of opinions, social media influencers, pursuit of our innate need to belong, through connection, been taken to levels our species cannot sustain? Has the human brain been become so inundated with a level of psychological overload, our minds were never designed to hold?

There are places you can go, the mountains, hills, remote hiking trails and heritage protected nature wonderlands, where there are no choices other than one careful foot in front of the other. No instant gratification by unrealistic intelligence or strange occurrence of advertising about the very conversation you just had with a friend! We have evolved into communities, where adolescents and adults, take real pictures, of real humans; placing these on A.I. generated bodies to their liking. Using Deepfake to generate pornography, Australia has legislated in 2021, The Online Safety Act, to ensure those who abuse others using artificial intelligence, can be held accountable by the law.

The web of deception, betrayal, trauma and suffering from being abused, lied to, taken advantage of, leaves crevices as wounds. Emotions are far harder to declutter than a room full of boxes and unused collections. So please, reach out for professional support.

In opening the doors to my shipping container of memories, collectibles, treasures and boxes (junk mostly), I dared not open, I start with 1, then 2, until I am finally several weeks into seeing this 20 ft storage space for clutter.

I formed a habit, kept myself accountable to 2 boxes a day. This quickly spread to drawers in the house, closets and anything which I hadn’t used or needed in 2025. I made up 5 different containers (you can find the tip at the end). Most went to the charity store, some to the garbage dump, others to sell or giveaway. I made a small pile for the changing seasons. The rest to fit in my 4WD, my next home in a few weeks.

This was more than objects, this was a process of detachment, of letting go of memories, objects, attachments. These were items of places, people; moments in history no longer serving any purpose, than to keep me from processing those emotions underneath, distract me from the hurt of too many months (more time and more pages for those curiosities later). It was clear, simple, escape and avoid.

Do it later.

Put it away, until it no longer needs attention.

Stay busy. Don’t look at it or touch it & you won’t need it, to relive whatever made me put it in a box in the first place.

The thing with clutter, it always needs attending to & if put off long enough, reach overload; one day you’ll need to move or maybe it’s time to see what the world has to offer other than attachment to suffering. Without validating the harm of clutter, the energy it steals from a joy filled life, a day will come when it is insurmountable & too overwhelming to address.

Reach out! Recruit helpers!! If you missed the sign post & you are already there, your sleep is disrupted, your body aches, your mind is preoccupied.

Clutter takes up space, in your home, in your shed, in your body and mind. Clutter impacts the energy of your soul.

I was 3 months into grieving the death of my son at 3 years and 4 months when I attended my first ‘grief and loss’ workshop. I was the only 20 something mother or person for that matter in the room. Maybe this was the reason behind the unsolicited advice on ‘letting go’ of my son’s belongings. I later discovered, grief was the only thing we had in common.

The weeks after his death, I carefully wrapped each pacifier, teddy bear, rainbow painting; item his fingers had graced, with his touch, shoes his feet danced in unison to the beat of any rhythmic sound, into places of rest, as I had done only 3 weeks before with his tiny soul.

The advice of those attending the workshop, having gone through the death of their husband or parent, stayed long after the years passed. It wasn’t they were right or anyone was. Grief and our attachment to the possessions of those we’ve shared our lives, our love, our hearts with, becomes harder when those possessions might be the only connection to their touch, remaining behind.

As I continued to clear boxes in the shipping container, as if I was spiralling to the deep end of the pool, I began noticing the somatic sensations arising in my body, asking to be noticed. Begging to be heard.

An empty home will do that. No more voices to distract. A pile of children’s drawings, painting and hand prints from every year for Mother’s Day. Birthday cards, Mother’s Day Cards, letters, oh the letters, made it straight to the later box. I discovered a pile of letters long before I was married or a Mother, without these the thoughts of those who had shared my life may have never been recalled, in the busy-ness of now.

I collected another 2 boxes and closed the container.

I made my way to the house, put my feet up; sat comfortably on the sofa, took some time & wrote in my journal. There was no coherent meaning other than to ‘feel the feels’, to give them my attention, to be heard & noted.I searched a person on line, I wondered what happen to them, to only find they’d died of cancer last year, at the same time I was in the same location. Life is weird, strange and sad at the same time.

The thing to remember with decluttering, particularly emotions, is to remember where these emotions live, in the past. It’s easy to allow your mind to pick its way through the best parts and skip over why a relationship ended in the first place. Stay true to where you are now, you can’t drive forward looking in the rearview mirror.

I finished the box later in the day, after I had explored how I felt to pick through old photos, memories of lives gone, of futures gone, of time lost. I gave it a name, I unpacked it with words, then returned to finish the box.

Distraction has been my escape route to easing pressure, it always works well. Sometimes too well and I forget the way back. This time there is no chance I will be pulling up my sleeping bag in a 20ft shipping container with no ventilation anytime soon.

The more I recognise the feelings as they arise, the more familiar I become with a new awakening.

Once I took a quick trip to look at taking up motorbike riding again & returned with a Harley Davidson Street 500.

There was the other time, I took a map, a backpack and quiet solitude, until the voices in my head had run out of words.

This my survival default. Along the way the clutter has been building. If only I’d learned if I put 1 thing in, I take 1 thing out rule, along time ago.

Nevertheless, it was time. The time was now.

The precipice was reached, the ship was tipping, the scales didn’t have a number to measure this load, I desperately needed to lighten it.

A calling to stand in my truth for the first real & authentic time, to be proud of all the pieces shaping who I’d become. My sense of justice, honesty, integrity, authenticity, kindness & compassion. My ability to trust, to have faith when all felt hopeless. To remove myself from situations which drained the life from my bones, until I had caught my breath & dry the tears.

I picked up the phone & dialled.

The unravelling of layers had begun. The piles upon my body, brain, heart and soul; a body without the capacity to sustain this any longer. The cup was full, the cups volume had been breached.

(As you join me on this adventure of curiosity, pull up a chair or gaze while I freely wander, you’ll notice I move a lot. While neither confirmed nor denied, I am sure there is nomad blood pumping within these veins, for which I am finally grateful.)

I will no longer carry the criticism of being who I am. This gentle heart may not have survived or run when my body was drained of strength with the pieces of a what was, had I not retained my instincts. The poor old 20ft shipping container, has crossed Bass Strait twice in the last 2 years, I’ve dragged it full to sighs of relief, a padlock could be applied. Maybe clutter had travelled through time & DNA, to take up space in the same chromosome as survival? (by the way yes, science is exploring chromosome 14 as a causal link to hoarding)

However, when I travelled to the NT in 2024, I was already half way when I accepted the contract, it was too late to bring the shipping container. Go figure, 6 months without my ‘stuff’ & a car load sufficed. Amazing how you can live with so little when it’s not within reach.

Mel Robbins talks about the 30 day minimum after a break up, to give yourself time and space to let go, in the ‘Let them’ theory & this isn’t about material possessions you shared or battle through courts over assets (another curiosity waiting to be written). Giving yourself 30 days to let the dust settle on the exit, to exhale deeply & to consider letting them, just….go. To every person reading this, single & loving it, you know this to be true.

Have you stayed the path of this curious wandering through the need to attach to clutter? Imagine if birds not only collected beautiful essential objects for their nest, they weighed their wings down with everything every other bird had done or was doing? They would never fly.(oh the tangents of curiosity!)

In returning to reality, the well meaning words of widowed wives and husbands, orphaned adult children of the grief & loss workshop, had been far from the truth. I hadn’t clung to much at all. I wasn’t ready, it was far too soon & this was not a cheating partner or lying friend, this was a little boy born from my own body. This would take more than 30 days of distance, even if grief had tied itself to my attachment to his things.

I tried, I continually opened, closed & sat with my grief among his things, as my heart bled like a knife had been lodged in my chest. I tried, when a local fire left residences without possessions, I quickly gathered a bundle for the local charity store of my son’s things, only to find it at the garbage tip a week later. It wasn’t time & a long while, to search for a purpose in each item, to find a rightful home.

I donated a near new, Thomas the Tank Engine bed to the fundraising efforts of my daughter’s kindergarten, for an outdoor environment. I handed down 20 something year old Osh Kosh to my daughter on the birth of her first child and son (I’d planned to weave all his clothing into a patchwork quilt and could never bring myself to raise the scissors). The sharing of toys with those in need, to those who didn’t and it still felt right, heaven may be the only one to know just how much space, I would have needed if I had clung to it all. I most certainly tried to let material things go.

Why now, I’m curious. After all these years, travels, trips, family, the walls of boxes, why now?

It could be the peri-menopause, it seems to be a valuable reason to justify my unwavering values at present or unreasonable decisions (or so it would seem to others). It could be returning to my backpacking roots, to hike for 6 days solo, with all I needed on my back. Maybe it was the cumulative impact of a life of letting go, of reflection; of standing on the footsteps of the house, before less than 12months old objects, shipping container in the driveway, the life I carried like a weight from home to home, the life I’d poured my heart and purse into; I turned, checked the emergency app ‘take shelter’, there was no time to leave, it didn’t matter, it really never did. The realisation a Blue Heeler & favourite photos were enough, I took every backroad to safety.

Most likely, it was the betrayal, the most painful, heaviest loss I had encountered in recent years weighed heavy on my decision to part with everything. Without joy or gentle hands, soft footsteps and giggling laughs, it came with the force of ignorance, razor sharp silences and slowly eroded the person I had raised myself from, one grief after another. I would much prefer a 40ft container filled with my son’s finger prints, than the baggage deceit leave behind. It was time to make space for joy.

It would seem as fast as I’ve tried to declutter previously, the mess would return. One piece after another, as if my instincts the first time were not enough, I’d go back just to make sure. Somehow I’d forget why I walked away previously or changed careers or placed an item in a box; with every piece itemised, identified & seen for what it is & never was, I am sure I didn’t really need any of it now.

Piece by piece, drawer by drawer, memory by memory. A complete overhaul of the space between the day I was born and the day I breathe for the last time. The clutter has over taken the spaces for joy, happiness, freedom & even how I feel within my own skin. I’ve allowed everything I don’t like or need to survive, walk straight through the front door as if my vulnerability was an invitation.

Out via the window slightly open, onto a soft winter breeze. Across the plains from another will driving through the rain, I awakened to the burden of clutter, a burden I could no longer bear.

It’s not like we plan to fill out lives with clutter, with useless things that serve us no purpose, deny our wellbeing of the health it deserves. Clutter is tireless & quiet, it’s the cave we no longer have to hide in, it’s therapy we can’t afford, it’s relationships draining our nervous system, leaving us without will power to face our own truth.

I hadn’t even realised until I returned to the bathroom floor on my knees, towel replacing tissues, with my silent thoughts and heart splitting in parts (I stitched too many times), the seams were eroding. Clutter had become my safe space, too hard, not now & escape or avoid.

I no longer have space for clutter.

Life is becoming shorter by the day, the world more complicated. I’m tired of bullshit. Really, really tired. I’ve heard it all, trusted, been lied to, deceived, laughed at by those who find joy in harm. I am letting them, I’m letting it all go.

If you are nodding or curious about decluttering, this isn’t a recipe, just a few helpful tips.

I wish you well, breathe right down to your core, let this stuff go.

Tips to declutter -

1. Make a list of why you want to declutter (either emotional stuff or material stuff) - it will come in handy to prompt you later

2. Start small, take small steps - be gradual e.g with one box, 1 story jar

3. Break tasks / stories into smaller parts (a professional can help you do this with your emotional decluttering)

4. Be mindful of your emotions throughout this process - how does it feel in your body, what arises when you begin this task (feelings of resistance or attachment)

5. Be gentle & kind to yourself - this is hard,

6. Chat to a friend or family member, if someone can support you & help, is sensitive throughout this process

7. If feeling you’ve got more than 1, take 2 boxes

   or the 50% rule - work on decluttering 50% at a time

8. One buying or bringing in something / someone new, make sure you take out the trash first - 1 in, 1 out

9. Create five boxes - charity store, recycling, keep, trash, sell

10. Make it a new habit - habits can take 6wks minimum to take hold, so keep practising - declutter regularly

11. Emotional decluttering - choose your boundaries, there is the line (you are standing in your truth, your values are the your beliefs, how you make decisions, shape your choices - this is your line)

12. Digitise your documents - do you have a Dropbox or drive you can store photos, art work, scan on to a hard drive? Keep what you need, scan, then shred the rest

13. Sort your life into journals / write it out (seek support with a counsellor or psychologist &/or medical professional where needed)

14. See a professional - keep going even when you are making progress

15. Keep a compliment jar, take notes and keep them. Give yourself compliments, make it a regular habit.

Emotional and material decluttering are closely correlated, often inseparable, one leads to the other.

So don’t forget 1 step at a time. You might like to work on the emotional decluttering first and when you are ready, 1 box at a time, build up to more and more.

Lighten your load. I’m here with you in solidarity & celebration of daring to step up to the plate & do this!

If you like what you are reading & like to support the challenges ahead, to keep these fingers moving, feel free to buy a coffee or subscribe. I’m not a big eater, I do like to drive, it’s a gypsy thing.

Buy The Freedom of Curious Tully a coffee xo

Thank you for staying the path, it was a wandering of tangents, L plate writer here. Feel free to leave feedback.