Letting Go: When Clutter Isn’t Just “Stuff”
A while back, I decided my office needed a refresh. The 70’s-era wood paneling either had to go or get painted, and the green shag carpet, charming as it once was, had definitely overstayed its welcome. But before I could begin the transformation, I had to do something I often ask my clients to do: move everything out. And, of course, that meant facing all the clutter I’d quietly accumulated over the years.
I’m talking about the kind of things I regularly coach people to let go of, the mysterious cords, outdated tech, sentimental keepsakes that no longer serve a purpose. And yet, there I was, surrounded by my own version of “Why am I still keeping this?”
Take, for example, the tray of thumb drives I found buried in my supply closet. Do I know what’s on them? Not really. Do I ever plug them in or reference them? Absolutely not. But for some reason, I couldn’t just toss them. Maybe it’s because I’m a lover of photos, and the possibility that one of those drives holds an image I’ve forgotten feels too risky to ignore. So, into the infamous bin of “deal with later” it went.
Then came a box of printed photos I had pulled from my husband’s childhood albums when I first launched my business. My plan had been to recreate his old sticky-page albums into modern, digital photo books. But life, as it often does, got in the way. The album is only halfway emptied, and the photos haven’t yet been scanned. So now they sit in a box, half-processed, half-forgotten, waiting for a moment that never seems to arrive.
“We don’t just keep things, we keep meaning.”
Tucked in that same corner, I found childhood photos of my dad, ones I gathered after he passed. They have been digitized, and I know exactly where those files live. But the prints themselves? Still in a box. Still hard to part with.
And then there was the oversized framed photo of my daughters from when they were little. It was a large-format beautiful professional shot that used to hang on the wall in our family room. I have since replaced it with a more recent image. The original photo is already in a printed book and scrolling through our Nixplay frame. But even though it’s been visually “replaced,” I couldn’t bring myself to just toss it. Maybe it’s because it once lived on our wall, or maybe it’s simply because it’s still so cute.
But again, I found myself asking: “What exactly am I holding onto?”
That’s the thing about clutter, especially emotional clutter. It’s rarely about the object itself. It’s about memory. Identity. Legacy. It’s about the meaning we assign to these things and the fear that letting go might somehow erase what mattered.
Clutter is about memory. Identity. Legacy. It’s about the meaning we assign to these things and the fear that letting go might somehow erase what mattered.
So, yes, decluttering can be deeply therapeutic. But it can also stir up guilt, nostalgia, and a host of other emotions that don’t fit neatly into a donation box.
So if you’ve ever stood frozen in front of a drawer, a box, or a photo you’re not sure what to do with, you’re not alone. Letting go takes practice, patience, and a little perspective.
And sometimes, the real goal isn’t to get rid of everything, but to choose intentionally what’s worth keeping.
Need help sorting through your own sentimental clutter?
Whether it’s old thumb drives, legacy photo albums, or framed prints you’re not sure how to store, I’m here to help you organize with intention, so your memories feel lighter, more accessible, and truly honored. Let’s start the conversation
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