Anna S. E. Lundberg

Coach, Speaker, Writer

De-cluttering when it’s hard to let go…

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One of my first posts I ever wrote on this blog was about spring cleaning, and I seem to be having that same manic desire now to rid myself of STUFF. I find it both liberating and exhausting to go through all my things and get rid of that clutter that is taking up valuable space and generally weighing heavy on my mind. All those boxes with things you haven’t looked at in years, drawers overflowing with clothes, and general tat that’s gathering dust…

Selling off things you’re never going to use and giving things away to friends or to charity where they’ll be put to much better use is a load off your chest while creating physical and emotional space in your life. In practical terms, it also means that you’ll be able to find the things you actually need while it’ll also be easier to move when the time comes For me, the biggest culprits are books, and clothes. Here’s how I’ve been dealing with mine…

Books:

I grew up in a house with walls lined with books from ceiling to floor so perhaps it’s no wonder that I’ve done the same in my own apartments. Amazon is a particularly dangerous beast: they’re incredibly good at recommending books you’ll like, while you don’t realise how heavy your shopping bag is getting since you’re buying online. I’ve even turned to buying books in charity shops, which cuts down on cost as well as doing good… but, still, my shelves are full of books that I’ve never read and probably never will.

A good test I find is to pick up a book and see if you feel like reading it right now. If not now, will you ever feel like reading it? I’ve found hardbacks particularly impractical, as I mostly read while on the move and these are just too bulky and heavy… It’s all very well to have coffee table reading, but does anyone actually read these?!

books
A small selection of the books that I’ve managed to part with…

For books that you have read, ask yourself if you’ll read them again. Are you just keeping them for the nostalgia of it, or the impression they give (either to yourself or to visitors)? Lonely Planets especially look great on your shelf, showing you as the well-travelled adventurer that you are; and who doesn’t want to keep all those classics like Austen, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, and in my case a ridiculous amount of language books, to keep up the intellectual charade.

Clothes:

Clothes can be a particularly emotional thing, especially for women with all our concerns about body image and fluctuating weight. It’s easy to keep old favourites in the wardrobe, telling yourself that you’ll lose that weight and fit into them again soon. The truth is, though, that you probably won’t lose the weight and if you do you’ll want to go out and buy new clothes to show off your figure rather than delving into your old stuff.

There’s some statistic that we only wear maybe 10% of the clothes we have, and it’s pretty depressing (and impractical) to fill your wardrobe with things you’re never actually going to wear. Why not get rid of that 90% so that you can actually see what you have and not waste time looking through all those clothes that are too big / too small / too whatever…?

I read a book once that gave advice on how to decide whether or not to buy something you’re trying on in a shop, and I think the rules apply when getting rid of them too:

  1. Do you love it?
  2. Is it flattering? (Not just okay, but “wow”!)
  3. Do you have a specific occasion when you’ll wear it?

I often fall at that final hurdle, buying beautiful dresses that look great but lacking the social calendar that warrants a wardrobe full of them. (Can someone please invite me as their +1 to lots of weddings this summer?!)

Stuff:

So what do you do with all these things you’ve managed to purge? Well, if you want to try to get some money for the more valuable things, there’s Music Magpie (I’ve used this for my entire CD and DVD collection) and eBay (though I find this is only worth the hassle if we’re talking designer clothes or expensive things like old iPods), as well as Gumtree (or your country’s equivalent) for the bulkier items like furniture. For books, I’ve been giving them away recently to friends and will take the rest down to the charity shops.

One tip to make it easier is to do it in phases: first, get rid of everything that’s easy, the clothes that don’t fit, the books that you no longer have any interest in. Then come back to it another day and re-evaluate the ‘maybes’, the things that made you hesitate. If you can’t bring yourself to part with them yet, try to put them away in a box in the attic and if you haven’t used them in a year then it’s sayonara, baby!

Of course, the biggest challenge is to avoid buying all this stuff in the first place. These days I buy mostly e-books to read on my Kindle or phone – the cost is still there, and the e-shelves still full, but at least they’re not taking up physical space in the house. When it comes to clothes, I’ll keep working on only buying things when I actually need them… Sounds simple, doesn’t it?!

Do you do regular cleanouts of your things? Have any tips on how to make it easier? Let me know in the comments below!

Falling leaves: A sign of death or an opportunity for a new beginning?

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I read a lovely post this week about leaves collecting in the garden. But as the author enjoyed watching his son playing in the leaves piled up under the trees, he saw death, decay, and loss.

A barren tree with autumn leaves below
What do you see?

I don’t see death. I see life. I see possibilities. The old leaves were beautiful in their time – from the pale greens when the buds first appeared through to the grand finale of fiery reds, oranges and yellows – but there comes a point when the branches need to let go, to move on from this magnificent past in order to embrace the future. The trees (at least the deciduous ones) must shed their old leaves to allow new ones to grow in spring. It’s a risk, of course: they can’t be 100% sure that new leaves will come, or that they will be as beautiful as last year’s. The trees must trust in an uncertain process, putting their faith in nature’s, and their own, power. And you know what, maybe it won’t work – maybe they will be damaged by a particularly aggressive frost, maybe there won’t be enough rain – but then when autumn comes again the trees can once more shed their old leaves and get another chance the following year.

“You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
-Christopher Columbus (apparently)

I’ve been doing some more spring cleaning. (Are you really only supposed to do it once a year? Though, actually, it seems that I haven’t gone through my old stuff at my childhood home since 2004, if not 1994.) I’m sure that some of you heartless, I mean organised, people have no problems with clearing out as you go along, keeping only the bare necessities in your beautifully minimalist homes. Those of you who are more sentimental will appreciate how difficult it can be to get rid of things from your past. It may be that these things have no use or value at all, that they’ve been lying around for years without your having given them a single glance, and that they’re simply collecting dust and taking up valuable space. But still it can be hard to let go.

One of the reasons, I think, is that these on the surface useless things can represent a particular happy memory or feeling from your past. Some examples: games from your childhood, games that you haven’t played in 20 years and, in fact, are impossible to play since they’re missing crucial bits; but looking at the (huge) box kept lovingly in the cupboard for all those years brings back fond memories of playing with friends and family. Maybe on a deeper level the box also represents a youthful time of reckless abandon, a carefree era without all those adult concerns that weigh us down today.

Bizzy Buzzy Bumbles Game
One top tip is to take photos of things before you throw them out. Then if, against all odds, you need a physical representation to look back and remember those wonderful games together you can look at the photos instead of the actual box. (If you want the song from the ad to be stuck in your head forever, you can watch the ad on YouTube.)

Another, more complex, emotion comes from things that on the surface would seem to lack the capacity to cause any feeling at all except relief that this period of your life is over: piles and piles of essays, exams, and university applications. Did I put all that effort into researching and writing that thesis only to throw it in the bin? And what about the convoluted mathematics calculations – calculus, matrices, statistics – when today I struggle to do basic mental arithmetic? (I was always annoyed at my parents when they couldn’t help me with my schoolwork, because surely adults know everything that a child knows? Now I have more sympathy for their inability to help me with my chemistry homework…) Then there are the applications and acceptances to universities that I never went to, subjects I never studied. SAT scores. Awards. Praise from teachers. All evidence of great achievements at the time, and future possibilities that were never realised. I even have a bag full of gymnastics and skiing competition badges. Imagine! I could have been an Olympic athlete!

Awards from childhood
Look how clever I was back in 1999! Stand back and marvel at the athletic prowess of my primary school years! I’d like to thank my parents, my lawyer, and all those wonderful people who’ve supported me over the years. I couldn’t have done it without you…

So I’m shedding some of my leaves. The maths exercises are going, teachers’ praise along with them. University acceptance letters too. Don’t worry, I’m keeping some essays as I’m sure my grandchildren will be eager to read about my early 21st century views on the effects of globalisation (ha!). And I’m keeping my awards, if only so that I can practice my Oscar/Tony Award acceptance speech (double ha!).

But I’m letting go of my happy childhood playing and my academic achievements from days gone by, trusting that new leaves will grow back in the spring. And though there’s a risk that the new leaves may not be as beautiful when they grow this coming year, I have faith that the lushest, most bountiful year is still to come.

A barren tree with autumn leaves below
Look again. Still see death and decay?

Spring cleaning

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So there I was, formulating a post in my head about spring being in the air – the birds were tweeting (for real, not on Twitter), I was no longer wearing my Michelin Man coat, I was thinking about getting my summer dresses out… And I step out of the office this evening and it’s snowing. “What happened?!” as my two-year-old nephew would ask (most recently when my sister had IKEA boxes and various bits strewn across the floor).

Regardless of the weather, I still have that spring feeling. The days are getting longer, I CAN hear the birds tweeting, there are crocuses popping out all over the place… And I have sunshine in my heart! (That was something that my German supply manager would always say. Don’t I have any expressions of my own?)

Most of all, I have a manic desire to sort through, and get rid of, STUFF. I’ve given at least six big bags full of clothes to charity (and was only attacked by gypsies en route once), I’ve taken books to the English library, I’ve sent off CDs and DVDs to music magpie, I’m using about five types of conditioner, serum, shine spray etc on my hair every day and moisturising liberally to use up all my random products, and I’ve even gone through my basement, a dumping ground for everything I didn’t actually need but couldn’t bear to get rid of at the time. And I aint done!

Ever since I started working six years ago, I think I’ve been enjoying that phase of my life when I have a decent income and no major obligations to speak of – no house with a mortgage, no car, no kids… It’s been satisfying to be able to buy what I wanted when I wanted it.

But suddenly – just in the last few months – I’m past that phase. Somehow physical possessions don’t give me the same pleasure anymore. DVD box sets of films that are anyway often playing on TV, books I never get round to reading, clothes I hardly ever wear, ornaments and souvenirs… they’re just clutter, taking up space and collecting dust.

I still have lots to get through, but with every bag of STUFF I take away from my flat, I feel that little bit lighter. That little bit freer. And the things I’m left with will be what I really want to keep. What’s really meaningful.