Bread and Clutter

I am writing to you from deep in enemy territory.

I’m in my computer room, the place where I blog, write my fiction, think my great thoughts, and watch kitty videos on YouTube.

It’s my Bat Cave, my Fortress of Solitude, the adult version of the little boy’s tree house.

It is also dump.

I don’t like saying this; it’s quite painful to admit, actually, but it’s the truth. And what hurts even more is that I am the reason that this allegedly sacred space is in such awful condition.

There are piles of stuff all around, stacks of books and papers, there’s a plastic storage container filled to the brim with God-knows-what and a “caja grande” cardboard box that the movers gave me when I first arrived here something like 8 years ago.

Every single year on January 1st I say that this is the year I get organized, the year I throw out all the junk, crap, and trash, and every year it doesn’t happen.

I’ve been telling myself this pathetic lie that all I need is a few hours on a Sunday afternoon and the place will look brand new.

This is insane, of course. My clutter problem was years in the making, it cannot be eradicated in one day, and thinking that way just guarantees failure and despair.

A few years ago, at my auntie’s urging, I bought a book called Unstuff Your Life by Andrew Mellen, which is described as a guide to kicking the clutter habit--a good way to put it, because there is an addictive aspect to living surrounded by your possessions.

I think I read the opening chapter, put the book down someplace, and I forgot where I left it. I also forgot about cleaning up my apartment.

Last week I rediscovered my copy of Unstuff Your Life—buried beneath a pile of old newspapers. There's irony there to set off every metal detector in JFK.

I recently lost 10 pounds and I’m feeling pretty good about myself. I’m doing everything I can to keep the weight off, but I’m also looking to shed other things in my life that are weighing me down.

Mind in the Clutter

This includes negative thoughts, unhealthy behavior, and yes, damn it, clutter. I simply have too much stuff in life and I’m sick of it. I want freedom, I want clarity, and I want land, lots of land and the starry skies above.

But even I as write this I can feel the panic slowly building because I don’t know what I should throw out and what I should keep.

And that bit of dread feeds into a greater fear that I will fail at this latest attempt and look foolish. But the only foolishness here is fear itself.

I was very upset when I realized I had put on so much weight. I kept stepping on my scale to make sure I had read the numbers properly or that maybe I could con the mean machine into giving me better results.

But the numbers wouldn’t change. I had to change and the first step was to stop lying to myself.

I wanted all those pesky pounds to vanish instantly, but I recalled the words of Mr. Viverito, my high school hygiene teacher, who told us way back in 1973 that you could only safely lose two pounds a week.

Back then I didn’t worry about weight, so I was barely listening to the guy, but a quick Google search showed me that things hadn’t changed any in this regard since Mr. V’s day.

I was so frustrated by what sounded like an impossibly long time, but I stuck with it. And as the weight slowly came off, I felt more confident that I had this problem under control.

And that’s what I want to do with the clutter. Now I see that it’s going to take time and I’m willing to make the investment.

Clearly, I’m not alone in this problem, as decluttering is a big business with the likes of Mellen, Marie Kondo and a slew of videos on YouTube dedicated to helping people clean up their acts.

Personally, I’m fond of a YouTuber named Ronald Banks, who comes off as very logical and supportive, and always ends his videos with the line, “be true to you.”

So, the journey begins. This afternoon I devoted a whopping 30 minutes to cleaning my file cabinet. I barely made a dent in the debris in that meager amount of time, but like those extra pounds, I do feel a little bit lighter and a little bit better.

I’m hoping that I’ll reach my goal this time and that one day I’ll be writing to you from a neat, organized computer room.

To the Bat Poles!