Perhaps because I come from parents who lived during the Depression, I can be forgiven if I, too, have clutter bug tendencies.
After all, a lot of people who lived during that time of scarcity learned never to throw anything away because they might need it later. They also put a lot of stock in having “stuff.”
Then there’s the great American tradition of one’s status being tied to one’s stuff; there’s even a saying that “he who dies with the most toys wins.”
Yet, even when we’re not trying to accumulate stuff, it’s so easy to do when one lives anywhere for decades. The things coming in usually exceed the things that are going out.
This realization hit me hard when I had to clean out my mother’s home in Georgia and prepare it for sale as I moved her here to Illinois. She had been there for decades and had more stuff than her home could comfortably handle.
Trying to wade through it all in a limited amount of time meant that a lot of snap decisions had to be made, some that had more to do with the reality of my own small home than with the value I put on a particular furniture item or piece of décor. It’s little wonder my mother regretted some of those decisions.
That traumatic time got me thinking about my own need to declutter. Who would want to deal with all my stuff if something were to happen to me? That thought became even stronger when my beloved husband, Tony, was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.
When I learned about the concept of “Swedish death cleaning,” I knew I had found the motivation I needed. It’s based on a book, “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning,” by Margareta Magnusson.
The idea is to deal with one’s stuff while we can before it becomes the responsibility of the next generation.
Had my mother employed this method, the things that were important to her could have been doled out to me, my siblings and her grandchildren before it became the decluttering version of a fire sale.
For me, it was a matter of not wanting to have someone else have to deal with my junk. It was hard not to judge my mother ever so slightly for some of the things she decided were worth keeping.
Of course, having watched more than my fair share of TV shows devoted to decluttering and downsizing, I’m aware of the emotional attachment we humans tend to put on inanimate objects. For a lot of us, things hold memories.
Maybe that’s why the Kon Mari method from Marie Kondo isn’t easy for a lot of people. The idea that something can “spark joy” works for some things, but maybe not for those items around which we have memories or strong emotions.
I recently came across another “style’ of decluttering, this time one that comes as a riff on Swedish death cleaning. This one is called “Norwegian life cleaning,” based on a blog from author Maggie Wallen Rowe.
The concept takes “death cleaning” up a notch and tries to incorporate the principles of simplicity and minimalism into everyday life. Instead of an exercise that is meant to save the next generation from an unsavory task, this method makes living with less a desirable goal in and of itself.
Rowe suggests a set of simple steps to do it: Get ready. Get set. Go.
In getting ready, one would get together a few boxes or bags. One would be for things to stay and the other for things to go. The things in the “stay” box would get a timeout to see if they really need to be kept. The “go” items would be donated or “deleted,” as in thrown away.
Rowe also suggests trying to sell the worthy items at a yard sale. Or if you dread that sort of thing, you can invite your friends over to go through the items. Anything they don’t want could be donated to a charity.
This process becomes something that is done on a regular basis, whether once a year or once a season.
Come to think of it, my own style of decluttering is more along these lines. Purging is something I’m trying to make a regular part of my life.
However, I do credit the “Swedish death cleaning” method for getting me started.
• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.