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The Journey Through My Things
The Journey Through My Things
The Journey Through My Things
Ebook247 pages6 hours

The Journey Through My Things

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Imagine taking a journey through your things, and finding freedom beyond clutter.

 

The Journey Through My Things is one woman's story of how she did this and the lessons she learned.

 

It started when she moved house and didn't realise how much stuff she had. She began to look for ways to reduce what she owned and discovered the minimalism and simplicity movements.

 

After reading and consuming everything she could get her hands on and applying different techniques, she found what worked for her and developed her own strategies.

 

What began as a journey to declutter her home became an incredible personal development tool – a journey through her things to learn more about herself and her life.

 

Tidying your things is not just about the things; it's about making sense of who you were, who you are and who you want to be. It's about what the things you keep can teach you and how you can use them to ask bigger questions about yourself and your life.

 

As you go through your journey, you can deal with your emotions, feel freer from the weight of your past and less stuck by the things you've held on to. You can then balance your past, present and future to best support your life.

 

Jillian's journey can help inspire and empower you to declutter your life and find the freedom beyond your things.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 21, 2021
ISBN9781739800802
The Journey Through My Things

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    Book preview

    The Journey Through My Things - Jillian Shields

    Introduction

    ––––––––

    This book is the story of my journey through my things.

    It’s about the lessons I have learned through my eight-year decluttering journey; how I have learned what the things we gain and keep in our lives mean to us.

    It’s not a ‘how to’, or even a ‘why to’, it’s a ‘why I did’. What began as a journey to declutter my home became, in fact, a journey through my things to learn more about myself and my life.

    Many people have asked me what’s so special about decluttering. I asked that, too, at first, but by going through courses, reading books, trying many different strategies and then coming up with my own, I knew I had discovered something life-changing. I hope that sharing my lived experience shows how powerful a tool decluttering can be. Most of all, I hope that by sharing my story, I can help someone else.

    I hope you enjoy it.

    For all those who’ve helped me carry my things.

    PART 1 – THE FIRST LAYER

    1.  All My Stuff

    ––––––––

    I sat among the pile of boxes. The footsteps faded down the stairs and, a few moments later, the cars drove away. I sat alone on a chair in my living room. Amidst 30 years’ worth of my stuff. I cried between wanting to throw it all out and wanting to scoop it all up.

    I sat most of all with my shame. This was all stuff that I owned. No-one else. Just me. The flat was perfect. It was on the top floor, had high tenement ceilings, was well-lit and the front rooms had an amazing view of the hills. The sellers had even ‘picked’ me, saying, We think you’re the right person to buy the flat. I’d mentally positioned my desk and Christmas tree. It felt right.

    My dream was always to have two bedrooms: a bedroom and a home office/study I could use for work but which could also be my creative space.

    The transition from one bedroom in my parents’ house to a two-bedroom flat seemed like it would be straightforward. I’d bought some furniture: a bed, sofa bed and some kitchen equipment. I ordered a washing machine and arranged broadband. I had my project plans, checklists and colour-coding systems for each room.

    I picked up the keys just before lunchtime and took my first drive as a homeowner from the estate agency.

    I skipped up the steps and two things happened. As I held the keys to the lock, I heard loud shrieks from children in the flat opposite and then I opened the door to a completely different flat. Empty and unclean.

    Inside, I slid down against the wall and burst into tears with immediate buyer’s remorse.

    With the arrival of my parents, I eventually rallied and spent 11 hours cleaning the kitchen and made five trips to the dump to empty the attic of old tins of paint, terracotta pots and bits of wood. Bizarrely, I found an old garden gate in the attic. That stayed, as somehow the attic hatch had been constructed around it and it couldn’t be removed.

    I filled a cardboard box with bits and pieces the previous owners had left behind: ice-cube trays, socks, a mug or two – disturbingly, a pair of red silky boxer shorts...

    By moving day, I’d made peace with the emptiness. It was clean. I’d slept the last night in my old room.

    I had a van and a team of helpers. I wasn’t expecting it to take too long, maybe one to two journeys. We planned a nice lunch and I prepared for a leisurely day. Much of the job would be the three flights of stairs up to the top floor.

    And then the stuff started to come in...

    The bed and larger furniture were first and some of the smaller items came in cars. The first journey, then the second. And there was still a lot of stuff to move.

    Back in my old room, we started to realise that this was going to take significantly longer than we first thought. Like anything that’s been in place for a long time, things had become comfortable. Boxes kept coming out from the cupboards. Books – once unpacked from the shelves – took over half the room by themselves. Ring binders full of paperwork emerged from under the desk, and there were rails and rails of clothes.

    I’m not sure if I was more horrified by the amount of stuff, or the fact that I’d managed to somehow live with all of this in one room.

    I’m highly organised, clean and tidy, but as it all unravelled in front of me, that didn’t matter.

    I felt I was a borderline hoarder. I could start to see looks of horror cross the faces of my helpers. How much more is there? someone called up the stairs. I’d go up and down, passing them on the stairs, realising the van was full yet again and we were still only halfway through. We enlisted a couple of extra cars for support, putting clothes on the back seat.

    Clothes I hoped would fit in the wardrobe started to need a second wardrobe. Boxes found their way to being stacked in open corners.

    Everyone was nice, but that was worse. The horror was unspoken, silent but unmistakeable. Their perceptions of me had changed. My perceptions of myself had changed.

    I’d often help other people with their clutter, feeling slightly smug that I wasn’t like that. And now I was facing the fact that clutter had become an acceptable part of my life. I hadn’t even known it.

    I’d designated the living room as the ‘drop zone’ for everything and planned to sort it from there. I watched with increasing horror as it filled up with bags, boxes, stuff.

    My parents reassured me that the flat would look better once everything was in its place. I nodded but didn’t believe them. Deep within, I was facing a truly horrible scenario. This was all mine. I owned all of this.

    The move took almost the full day, about five van trips plus car journeys. We returned the rental van with five minutes to spare. My parents built my bed, and my helpers started to put the desk and bookshelves in place.

    I made everyone dinner, and then, as it approached early evening, I slowly realised I was going to be left here, alone, with all of my stuff.

    One by one, everyone hugged me and left.

    I sat down in the chair, choked by boxes and my own tears.

    2.  The Girl with the Big Case

    ––––––––

    Was I always like this with stuff?

    I remember going on a school trip to France. I was in a bus from the airport and my suitcase fell over at the front of the bus and the driver shouted at me to come and get it, referring to me as: You, ze girl with the big case!

    I was the Girl with the Big Case, but I was also the person you went to if you needed medicine, a plaster, a spare hat or sun cream. I was prepared for every eventuality and I loved that. I loved thinking ahead to what I might need.

    I didn’t think it was too much. I had been the ‘lifesaver’ in many situations and was known for it.

    I quite liked being the Girl with the Big Case – to me, it was always worth the additional effort, because I valued so much having everything I (and others) needed.

    The Big Case was blue and a solid piece of engineering. It had been a twenty-first birthday present, the perfect gift as I loved travelling and wanted to do more.

    I later lived in France as a student for a year, and this was my suitcase of choice to take things back and forward from my main home in Scotland.

    The trip involved a high-speed train and a flight. I remember the first time I got on the train, I asked a lovely old man if I was on the right train. He didn’t only confirm I was, but he came and lifted my big case (without judgement!) put it on the rack for me and took me straight to my seat. He even made sure I knew where I was going and where to get off before wishing me a safe trip.

    My flatmates and I used to choose British Airways because, at the time, the flights mainly carried business travellers and there was almost always room for our cases. Those were the days before luggage became a charged-for commodity.

    The only restriction was that it absolutely couldn’t weigh over 32 kg, which was the legal limit for baggage handlers, and anything over 30 kg was labelled with a ‘heavy’ sticker.

    Surprisingly, I only got the sticker once. I’m actually very good at managing within the limits; however, I always worried about my case being over. I still do. Packing for me is about balancing the ‘being prepared for what might happen’ with ‘not having too much to be manageable’. It’s a theme that flows throughout my life.

    3.  The First Layer

    ––––––––

    The house move showed clearly that I had gone from being the ‘Girl with the Big Case’ to the ‘Girl with Too Much Stuff’.

    The boxes moment showed me that I needed to do something. I started researching and found decluttering, minimalism and simplicity – growing movements.

    I was quite inspired by this. Although I had a lot of stuff, I always loved tidying, cleaning and organising, and the fact that I had fitted so much stuff into one room probably meant I was reasonably good at that.

    I think there is something innate in all of us that responds to the idea of clearing out or having less stuff. Almost everyone I speak to says that they want to do this.

    Minimalism seems a step further and is often misunderstood. Oh, I could never be a minimalist, people say, or I don’t like bare walls. They usually focus on how they imagine it looks, and think they either wouldn’t like it or wouldn’t be able to achieve it. They don’t tend to focus on how it feels, or how it’s about identifying what’s essential to your life.

    Most of us, if we go on holiday, like the calm of a hotel room and the feeling of space. Depending on where you stay, it can still be cosy and welcoming without feeling overwhelming. Most of us like the idea of having a bit of extra time as well, for example, if something we had planned is suddenly cancelled.

    This was how I started to understand minimalism, and there were things I started to feel and things I started to do.

    I became aware that there were people who didn’t need to learn the ‘decluttering lesson’. Some people just didn’t seem emotionally attached to stuff or it wasn’t an issue for them. I realised that for me it was.

    The move was a major trigger, but there were other reasons I needed to declutter my life.

    One of the books I read recommended defining why you want to declutter.

    Why

    I want to find peace in my relationship with ‘stuff’.

    I want to be free to feel like I could move/travel/do things without stuff weighing me down.

    I want my home to fulfil its true potential and support the life I want to live. I want it to be a place where I can easily have people over/share my space/cook.

    I want to feel totally comfortable with who I am and what I’m doing and be free to make easier decisions.

    I want to sort out my finances and get a good pile of savings behind me.

    I want to repair my home and have everything clean, neat and in working order to support my life and what I want to do.

    I want to value more the things that I already own.

    I want to feel a fondness for the past and have a healthy appreciation of who I’ve been and what I’ve done without being weighed down by it or it affecting my present.

    I want to travel more, for packing to be easy and enjoyable – putting only those things I love in my case and having those things I love when I get there.

    I want to have a healthy relationship with ‘stuff’ – love what I have, enjoy the process of finding the perfect new thing, discarding those things that no longer serve their purpose.

    I want my home to tell the story of who I am; for it to be peaceful, interesting, calming, comforting and homely. A sanctuary.

    I want to be the best version of myself I can be – be fit, healthy, look great, nurture my brain, read amazing books, write, be creative, have ideas, feel energised, feel excited by life, plan things, travel, explore, have new experiences, love, have great relationships and friendships...know what’s important and live like that.

    I no longer want to distract myself from life; I want to live life.

    I want to be able to spend time on other people, remembering and marking birthdays and other occasions.

    I want to make space for writing – space to think, to create, to dream.

    On the Up

    Buoyed by a sense of purpose, I began decluttering in earnest. I followed courses, books and online videos. I discovered the great thinkers and ideas in the minimalism movement. I connected with others on the same journey. I felt the intense liberation of removing some of the weight I hadn’t even questioned before.

    *

    Eight weeks in and I’m hitting uncharted territory. I’m getting to a place where I own less than I ever have before, to a level of possessions I had as a child, when life was more free and uncomplicated. It’s exhilarating...and also terrifying. I’m out on the edge of the cliff, teetering. I’ve got one foot in the doorway, ready to go through. Oh, how tempting to look back at the comfort behind, to pull back from the edge, to switch off the awareness and just start buying again...but I am going to hang here for a while. I don’t have all the answers yet but I’m ready to see what I can find.

    *

    Anyone else thinking ‘This is a bit easier than I thought...why didn’t I do this years ago? If this isn’t as bad as I thought...what else might I be able to do?’ By gradually gaining control of our possessions, we gradually gain control of the life we want to be living. Let’s make this happen!

    *

    Reflection for today...I have been wondering about the role of consumerism in a minimalist lifestyle. I have come to the conclusion that it, as well as minimalism, is something that can be enjoyed in our lives. Minimalism doesn’t mean we have to consume grudgingly, just buy things ‘that will do’ or make do without something we genuinely need. And it is not about feeling guilty for everything we buy. It is okay to find the perfect thing, to love it and actually enjoy the process as we enjoy all of life’s processes.

    *

    Accomplished another layer of less. Have more time, less stress, more contentment. Better focus on the ‘real me’ and clearer goals. Aspiring minimalist!

    I’ve enjoyed doing some New Year decluttering jobs: cleaned out my handbag and changed to a new one, decluttered my purse and changed to a new one, cleaned out and washed my gym bag and work bag, used up food in my fridge and freezer, shed some December paperwork and lists. I look forward to lovingly taking my decorations down, putting them away for next year and then beginning the next round of the course. Happy New Year to all.

    *

    I think there’s a ‘tipping point’ you get to with this process. You chip away and plod on, bit by bit, sometimes making more mess in the process. But one day you’ll come

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