A Decluttered Life, Part 2: Items and Identity
There is nothing simple about separating from our things. They can mean so much to us, and the longer we have them the more we might feel that we need them.
We just accept that clutter is a part of life, becoming almost blind or numb to the consequences of having so much around us.
But it doesn’t have to be that way. In this section we are going to examine how our stuff can be a part of our identity, which makes them very difficult to let go of.
I know this was the case for me, and I felt such incredible freedom once my clutter no longer had that kind of power over me.
Too much stuff!
Let’s begin at the beginning. As I mentioned in Part 1 of this series I recognized the need to start from scratch and examine my stuff. For me, this meant giving myself the space and time to literally examine every object I owned, from clothing to paper clips. It seemed like the best way to understand the impact of the things in my life was to surround myself with them.
Viewed in their totality, there was nowhere for me to hide and no excuses. It was so much! Decluttering was a multi-layered process for me, with several attempts and failures, and I tried a few different methods before realizing that I was still stuck because I still needed to turn over my desires to God. But we’ll get to that part later.
I started decluttering in earnest by pulling out all the items in a certain category and going through each one in turn. Then I allowed myself to honestly experience the feelings and thoughts associated with each item. I soon learned that most of what I owned had more insidious ties than I had expected.
Battle of the stuff
For such a long time I had battled with myself over the things I owned. I knew the life I wanted to lead, both personally and professionally, and worked hard to pursue that life no matter what. But I started to see a widening gap between the way of living that I valued and the life it seemed I was expected to lead. I knew what looked good — an important position, fancy office, big house, nice things. But for my husband and I, that wasn’t what felt good. It did not bring life or joy.
Accumulation is the norm for a lot of us. It had certainly been the norm for my husband and I. We each have our own reasons for owning things, and if we can be honest with ourselves I think we often try to soothe ourselves through what we consume.
Of course I do not believe that every item we owned at that time was bought in an effort to soothe ourselves or meet an inner need, and I do not believe that big houses and nice things are the enemy of the soul. What I do know is that I personally fell into the trap of accumulation and appearances way too many times, and stayed there for longer than I wanted.
Stuff cannot define me
When I owned certain items or books, I felt that they said something about me. They told the world who I was and what I liked, as if those objects were my credentials.
Every item was there to tell the world what I wanted it to know: “See, I am a smart and valuable person. Look at all of my intellectual books that prove how smart and interesting I am. Here are all my figurines and video games to prove that I am unique and a real female nerd. I’m also a good wife and mother. See my nice pillows and tidy kitchen?”
The items also told me something about myself: “I affirm you. As long as you own me, you are still connected and valuable. You have not lost the magic of your childhood. Hold onto me, and you will have light in the darkness and a way to protect yourself.” I heard and I believed. How could I declutter the items that held my very identity?
This may seem like an exaggeration, but I would challenge you to ask yourself how many items you chose because they say something about you. From clothing and accessories to the items we decorate with, many of our things are probably chosen because they are trendy or because they send a message.
Using clutter to make me whole
For myself, I now understand that I wanted so many things because I did not feel like a full person on my own. I wanted people to believe I was valuable but I did not have the confidence or skills to show them, and I did not have the understanding of my true, eternal identity.
I was constantly at the mercy of myself. I experienced my life in pieces — different parts of me swirling around at dizzying speeds, lost and without a tether. I wanted to own my experiences and love what I loved simply for myself, but as long as I believed that I needed the approval of others, I was stuck.
I had to vigilantly search for — and hide away — any part of me that did not fit what others seemed to value. I created closets upon closets of dirty secrets, shoved away whenever company came over. Messy bedroom? Close the door. Extra weight? Hide it. Tatoos? Wear long sleeves. Doctor Who figures? Put them away when “real adults” come over and pull them out when nerdy friends pop by.
It is exhausting and lonely to know yourself only through the opinions of the outside world. And while some people are open with their judgments, most are not. So we take on the maddening task of guessing what other people think, painstakingly sorting through every look and conversation.
We scan the outside world, seeking the comments of other people, hoping they will tell us what is good and how we can become valuable. What we actually want or need gets lost.
And that is where I found myself — pulling back and realizing that not all of my life was authentic. Not all of me wanted the things I was collecting and striving for. But where was my true voice? What did I really believe in? I could hardly tell.
Finding what really matters
What I want for myself, and for my family, is a life of true love, fueled by the joy of creativity and connection. I cannot reach that place by staying the same and simply accepting what comes. I cannot connect to others when I am afraid of myself.
So whatever gets in the way of being in that genuine place needs to be examined and re-examined. I want to know within myself who I am and what I stand for, unshaken by the opinions and judgments of others. When I believe in myself as a child of God and a loved member of my family, then I do not need to show others who I am, and my life does not depend on their decisions about me.
I do not need other people to believe I am intelligent and professional. I will show them with my actions, or I will not, but God will still be there and my purpose will be defined by Him. Either way, no book on my shelf or clothing on my body can do that for me.
Staking claim to what really matters happened in many forms, including the decision to truly discard the trappings of success and identity and trust God instead of myself. If I held an object in my hands and felt that I owned it to please someone else, I let it go.
If I knew that a book was only on the shelf in hopes that the right person would see it and think highly of me, that book needed to move on. With a gentle kiss (yes, literally) I thanked the item for its help and placed it gently in a donation bag. As I did this, I not only saw my external world expand, my internal world lightened as well.
The Source of Identity
I felt connected to the truth and power of God as the One who defined me and loved me. I was being released from the burden of relying on what was outside of me to give me life. I could reach up my hands and gently remove the blindfold. In my blindness, I had assumed my weights were chained tightly to me, burdened with locks I could never break. Now I could see the truth. There were many weights, yes, but the chains were weak and most of them had no locks. If I wanted, I could stand up and walk right out.
The internal world is a complicated one, and even though I wanted at all times to rely fully on God, I would often forget and go back to striving under my own strength. I admit that I had to walk out of the same door more than once.
A few times I found that an object still held layers of meaning for me and while I could recognize that it was tied to my identity, I still found it hard to let go. Often, those items had nostalgic, emotional energy that I was trying to escape. I had to acknowledge that I still feared the loss of emotional connection and still longed to be seen and valued. I had to place those items before God again, reminding myself of what mattered eternally.
With complex items, I also made a promise to myself and to God. I would not squander my new freedom. While my chosen path would wind and narrow at times, looking very unlike the path of everyone else, I would be faithful to God and to those I loved, walking in trust and faith. I knew I would not be disappointed.
Have you had a similar experience? Do you have any insights to share with us? Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!
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Disclaimer: This is a blog, which contains a mixture of my current knowledge and opinions. The information is accurate to the best of my knowledge but may contain omission, errors, or mistakes. I am a psychologist licensed to practice in the state of Washington, but this article does not create a psychologist-client relationship. I am providing psychological information and my own opinions for informational purposes only, and anything I present should not be seen as psychological, emotional, or medical advice or treatment. You should consult with a mental health professional or your primary care physician before you rely on this information or take any action. I reserve the right to change how I manage or run my blog and may change the focus or content at any time.