Decisions, Decisions

A friend recently sent me the link to the New York Times Magazine article about Marie Kondo. Apparently she has created quite a stir in the professional organizing community in America (although I have to say I was shocked at the level of vitriol dripping off some of the quotes!). Her system certainly doesn't work for everyone.

But it worked for me. I talked about it quite a bit on this blog, so if you're interested you can read more here.

Perhaps the reason why is that she gave me a solid protocol for making decisions, which is clearly the hardest part of clearing out clutter. Every object presents a decision to be made and for me, someone who is always worried about doing the "right" thing (whatever that means), it was completely novel to consider what things in my life gave me joy. My hoarding was definitely rooted in anxiety and joy turned that fear on its head.

My clear out is long done and it was absolutely life-changing for me. If I hadn't done it I don't think I would have written a book last year. So why am I revisiting it now?

First, reading the article made me feel somewhat defensive of Kondo. And second, I still think about the process a lot, because on some days, I am definitely taking the clear out to the next level -- attempting to fearlessly choose the less-tangible things in life that give me joy.

I heard recently a very interesting quote on Gretchen Rubin's Happiness podcast. It went something like this: "Being an adult is learning to live with regret." Sounds a bit depressing, until you understand the meaning behind it. In life you always have to make decisions that will result in regret because you just can't do everything in life. I chose to move to another country and settled here, which often brings regret that I'm not closer to my family. But if I had stayed in the U.S., I would have regretted the lost adventure.

We are constantly making decisions in our everyday life. What to wear, what to eat, who to spend time with and what to do with our days. We not only choose the amount of possessions we own, but the number of commitments we make to ourselves and other people. And making decisions about all these things is not only tiring, but often scary. Once we choose one thing we have less time for another. Which potentially is why so many people suffer with too much literal and figurative clutter in their lives, torn in many directions. Even worse, this indecision might result in potentially never doing what we really want in life. (And as we are constantly reminded these days, life can be incredibly short.)

Focusing on doing the things that give me joy is helping me to make more confident decisions about nearly everything. I've always struggled with chronic procrastination and it's helping with that too. So for whatever the criticisms leveled at Kondo are -- and personally, I think some of it has to do with the little green monster -- I am still a massive fan.

Photo credit: You Choose Your Path via photopin (license)

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Later Never Comes

A lot of people try to change their life by changing habits. Exercise habits, eating habits, sleeping habits, drinking habits. Recently I have been working really hard to finally -- once and for all -- change my procrastination habit. Don't think procrastination is a habit? Neither did I. Being a procrastinator was just the way I was.

My procrastination was so pervasive that I am still shocked when I think about the way I used to operate, compared to how things are starting to change now.

If something didn't need to be done at an exact time, there was no way I would do it. Why put the dish in the dishwasher when you could leave it by the sink? Why open the mail the day it arrives when you can wait a day or two or even a week? Why text someone back straight away when you can wait a few hours or a day? I would always have piles of things around. Admin piles, stacks of things to read or file, an overflowing inbox, people to get back to and lists and lists of things to do.

It was such an ingrained habit that I didn't even realize I was doing it. Sure, I knew that I was putting off the big things -- work assignments that scared me, writing projects that I didn't think I was capable of completing, conversations I didn't want to have. But it was shocking how many small innocuous things I left for that other time -- you know, "later" -- when the tasks would be sure to be less annoying, less uninteresting and I would be feeling much more productive.

But later never came.

Instead, when later came, I just felt worse. I was constantly stressed by all these little things I had to do, as well as the big things. And I thought this was how everyone operated. I remember being caught off guard when I told the Hub that we should do some boring household task tomorrow. He seemed slightly annoyed and reprimanded me: "Let's just get it done."

Because of course today I couldn't tackle anything. I was too stressed about everything I had to do.

I do think that the major clear out I did last year (read more about it here), really helped me to pinpoint how bad this habit was. With less clutter around, I am considerably less anxious, and it's easier to see what's holding me back from doing what I want to do.

There is, however, an argument to be made for putting some things off. When there's a real problem to solve, it helps to give yourself time to figure it out before diving in and tackling it the wrong way. But sometimes you have to start something before you can even get to this stage -- there's a lot to be said for getting more information straight away. And even if you can't get back to someone immediately away with a decision, you can respond to an email or text and say you need more time to figure something out (my procrastination habit was also turning into just plain bad manners).

I suppose I could make the excuse that I was just conserving energy. Sometimes if you don't do something for long enough, you don't end up having to do it. But to be honest, this habit has never felt like a good thing and has always made me feel like everything in life is so hard and difficult. It's actually a relief to realize it doesn't have to be that way.

Related Posts:

• More Of The Same?
• A 30-Something Girl Scout?

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To Display Or Not To Display

Lately I've been obsessed with creating my "study". You've heard of a man cave. The hub calls it the Taron Lair. It's basically a whole room dedicated to writing this blog, among other things (such as more lucrative things, like the days when I work from home).

I have -- or more accurately -- someone whom I paid, painted it grey with white trim. And I bought a cheap retro writing desk, which doesn't feel that sturdy, but it works. It is north facing, so not directly sunny, but it does have a big window and feels calming and bright enough to me, even when it's overcast like this morning. It's still a work-in-progress though. Nothing on the walls yet!

One of the things that I decided during the life-changing clear out is that keeping things in boxes tucked away in an attic or a basement is not for me. It certainly does not bring me joy -- and I'm sure that it will never bring anyone else joy either. Because let's face it, it's usually someone else who goes though our attic boxes at the end of our lives. So I've made the more or less perilous decision that everything we have should be on display or at least vertically folded somewhere neatly away. But no more boxes!

Which brings me to my dilemma. As I've mentioned before, last summer my parents sent me my childhood belongings from America when they sold the house I grew up in. I got rid of a lot of crazy things that I've been saving, but there are still challenges lurking around. For example, I have a small collection of dolls that my Great Aunt Ruth brought back from different countries on her travels with my uncle after they retired. She also brought back coins and labelled them for me.

Now as childish or silly as this may seem, these items give me particular joy. I fondly remember watching all my aunt & uncle's slide shows from around the world and I believe that it was these memories and the gifts so carefully brought back for me which inspired my interest in living abroad. So last week when I had some shelves installed in the room, I tried my luck at displaying the dolls and the coins.

Alas -- displaying dolls in a room for adults is really only one thing: creepy. And I tested it out on the Hub, who pretty much shrieked when he came into the room. But what to do, considering my box rule? As with most small problems to solve, I let it stew over the weekend to see if I could come up with a solution.

And eventually one was presented to me. In my study I have a cedar chest, given to me by another relative who is no longer with us, but close to my heart. I am using it as a coffee table for the moment and it just had some spare sheets and a blanket inside, for which I was easily able to find another place. So in went the doll collection and a couple of other bits of sentimental memorabilia which I'm not particularly anxious to display, but would like to hold onto. Such as my "Most Improved Player" award from my high school swimming team, which of course I could never part with, as well as that recently refurbished Girl Scout sash.

Not sure if this is all still slightly creepy, but hey, no one ever has to know, right?

Related Posts:

• Burn 'Em?
• Early Writings: Dear Diary

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A 30-Something Girl Scout?

Last year was my year of dealing with "stuff" as we prepared to sell our flat and buy a real grown-up house. Not only did I embark on my life-changing clear out, but my Mom sent over all my childhood belongings. Now everything I own (O.K., the childhood doll house was not shipped to England) resides under my roof.

One thing I discovered during this process is that not only have I struggled with chronic procrastination my whole life, but I also am not good at finishing tasks, even ones I'm enjoying. I have ventured to try to understand this and -- even without the help of a professional psychologist -- I have come to the conclusion is that this has been completely about perfectionism, which is completely about anxiety.

When I describe this to people they are always baffled as they perceive me to be driven, organized and together -- a honest-to-goodness nerd. But that's the problem: I am driven and organized, and I use those bursts of energy to make up for all the time I spend not getting around to things or not getting them finished. And then everything works out O.K. in the end (or even better than O.K.), so in a way it's never been a "problem".

Oh but it has. It's hard to enjoy life and the work that you want to do when you're in a constant state of anxiety about being behind on everything.

Which made me realize that something had to change. And when I saw my Girl Scout sash among my childhood belongings I decided to do something radical. The sash was not complete -- it was accompanied by a neat baggie which contained some of the badges that I had never sewn on. I was mortified: what kid wants to be a Girl Scout, does the work for a badge and then doesn't sew it on? There was even a sewing badge there! What the what?

So over Christmas, which we spent at my in-laws, I sewed on all the badges that were missing from the sash. Even the cookie sale ones. (Consequently my father in law said he had a badge he wanted sewed on a sweatshirt, so I did that one too. Everyone wins!)

I know it sounds nuts. But for me it was a symbolic activity. It was almost as if with each stroke of the needle I was telling that little girl who is still in there somewhere that there's no reason not to be bold. Whatever it is I want to do, why not do it whole hog and not care what anyone else thinks? Whether it's being a Girl Scout, a writer or something else entirely. And, maybe even more importantly, that I am capable of these things -- there's no reason to fear this specter of failure I've been running from my whole life.

I think Girl Scout cookie time is coming up soon, so if you live in the U.S., please support this great organization. It's still teaching me lessons, even as a 30-Something former Girl Scout. I have my order in already for a box of samoas.

Related posts:

• Top 10 Things I Learned From My Life-Changing Clear Out
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More Of The Same?

As a blogger who writes about the connection between mind and body, how can I not write a New Year's resolution post?

I've been thinking about this a lot over the past few days and the thing that bothers me about these types of resolutions is how we suddenly fail to realize all the progress that we've made already in our lives. It's as if we just throw the baby out with the bath water, looking at our lives as a blank canvass that could be perfect in 2015 if we only got more exercise/ate better/became tidier/smarter/more skillful/found a new job etc.

So this year, instead, I've decided to find a few areas in my life where I've actually made some progress in 2014 and shout at the top of my lungs: more of the same!! I feel like 2015 is looking better already.

And I like making lists in threes, as they are easier to remember and it also seems perfectly reasonable to have three aspirations as you can always say at the end of the year: "Well, two out of three ain't bad..."

1. Writing. I made a bit of progress with this at the end of last year, getting more into a routine for working on projects, as well as keeping up with you, my dear readers. I'd like to continue this as it seems to be working and of course I'm no where near getting those bigger writing projects done. But getting into a writing routine is half the battle.

2. Eliminating procrastination. The big life-changing clear out in 2014 had a strange by-product. Amazingly, it helped to reduce my annoying procrastination habit that has plagued my entire life. I think this had something to do with my fear of decision-making and the fact that I had to choose over and over again which objects to keep and which to discard. It somehow gave me more confidence to just push ahead with things. And I hope this new attitude will not only help with continuing with writing, but also to do the work to make our new house a home in 2015.

3. Driving. So here's my new resolution, as it would probably be too lame to have three "more of the same" resolutions. American citizens with U.S. driving licenses cannot just convert them to a U.K. license. And so I cannot own a car here without taking a driving test. It stinks to feel 16 again. But then again, it could be fun. To get a license, a car, to hit the open road. I think England even extends outside of London, they tell me.

So there you have it folks. My New Year's resolution strategy for 2015. What's yours?
And Happy 2015!

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Book Review: Small Move, Big Change

Habits are a big thing at the moment. Gretchen Rubin (of The Happiness Project) comes out with her new book Better Than Before: Mastering Our Habits In Everyday Life in March. In the meantime, pick up Small Move, Big Change by Caroline Arnold, a very good book on, dare I say it, how to go about changing your habits in a relatively painless way.

The premise goes something like this: make all your changes small enough that it is absolutely ridiculous not to implement them. Arnold calls these "microresolutions" and they are just that, very small, doable changes.

She discusses how most people attempt to completely overhaul their bad habits, trying to do such overwhelming things as "get organized", which in my view, stems from the natural impatience we have as humans of wanting to change things all at once. And as Arnold reminds us, this is usually a course for disaster. After that initial euphoria that comes from the start of a new project, our old habitual practices kick in. And it's true, think about how strong our ingrained habits are. None of us would even think of going to bed without brushing our teeth, because it's second nature in our society -- something we've been doing every night of our whole lives. Most people probably can't even remember learning to brush their teeth as they were so young when they did.

Arnold starts the book by giving an example of how she used a microresolution to "get organized". She found that she was always taking notes at work in various notebooks, on scraps of papers, or on printed out presentations or agendas during meetings. This meant that everything ending up in different places and she was constantly wasting time trying to find specific notes. Her microresolution: To put all my notes in one notebook. And because this resolution was obviously feasible -- although didn't prove as easy at it might seem -- she was determined to keep it.

The book walks us through Arnold's seven rules of microresolutions and she peppers the explanations of each with very concrete examples from her own life. Because I am incredibly nosy about how other people's brains work, what motivates them and how their structure their lives, I loved this detail. And it was very helpful in understanding how to apply her rules to my daily life. She also includes helpful chapters on each areas that most people want to change or improve, including fitness, diet & nutrition, clutter, relationships, spending, punctuality and organization. I also liked the fact that she provided to examples of the way in which she changed habits at both work and home, which is, in practice, the way we live, juggling the two sides to our lives.

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Top Ten Things I Learned From My Massive Life-Changing Clearout

Now that my clear out is officially done, I wanted to share some of the things I learned. We finally "exchanged" on our house Monday, so will be moving into our new home in less than a month. I cannot believe that I actually finished this before moving, but wonders never cease.

10. You have no idea how much lurks hidden within your home. I am still getting over the shock of the bathroom clear out in which I believe my photo composition 'Bathroom Deconstructed' says it all:

9. My fascination with living in another country started young. Not only did I have two foreign pen pals (in Germany and Ireland), but I kept all the postcards sent to me from my Grandmother and Great Aunt Ruth & Uncle Rolland when they started taking trips to far off places. I also saved all the little dolls from different countries that Ruth brought back for me. The three weeks I spent in France when I was 17 was a major deal -- with its own scrapbook and itemized list of every franc I spent (I showed this to the Hub and he asked what happened to this frugal teenager?).

8. I now think twice, or even many more times about bringing things into our home. When I went to Krakow for the weekend I kept wanting to buy a souvenir. But then I would consider whether I really needed an object to remember my time there. I took a gazillion photos, like usual, anyway. I am especially skeptical of anything free:

7. Being neat is much easier when you have chosen the "right" number of belongings for you. I no longer feel controlled or overwhelmed by my possessions. And I can spend the extra time I have pruning around the edges -- I immediately know when it's not working out anymore between me and a pair of shoes.

6. Music used to be a big part of my life. It's kind of fallen by the wayside, so this was particularly informative.

5. When a category of items that you're clearing out gets tough, just break it down further. A good life lesson as well?

4. Buying anything -- particularly clothes -- is much easier. When you know what you have, what you need becomes much more clear. And if you need something, the universe will deliver it. (O.K., you might also need a job to pay for it or at least a credit card.)

3. I loved to record things. I was a prolific letter and journal writer. I had a bit of peripheral interest in art, but photography was my main visual interest and the number of photos taken tended to be inversely correlated with how much journaling I was doing at the time.

2. The majority of possessions shouldn't live squirreled away somewhere. If you have a possession because it gives you joy, then you should be able to see it and experience that joy.

1. Writing was clearly my greatest passion. It's so pervasive in my childhood belongings that I felt knocked over by it at times. And the clear out has given me space to consider this a little more seriously.

Related Posts:

• What If I Need It?
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• Burn 'Em?

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Early Writings: A Horror Fanatic?

I do love a good horror film. Not the bloody gory stuff, but give me a good old-fashioned haunting any day. And worryingly, this has now extended into an obsession with American reality T.V. programs where "professional" ghost busters visit the homes of people experiencing unexplained events. I may soon need to cancel our cable subscription to the "Really" channel -- but not until I stop going out of the house.

From a very young age I was pretty worried about what was hiding under the bed. I guess you could say I had a pretty active imagination, as I often wondered if skeletons came out of my closet at night and danced around me as I slept. At my parents' house last Christmas, the Hub and I found a picture I had drawn of a big blue monster hovering over the bed of child (most likely me).

But what I didn't realize was that my early writing also touched on the supernatural.

In the boxes my mother sent over this summer, I found a book written in conjunction with some other girls from my class at the Catholic school, which would put me in the age range of 10-12. It had no title, but it did have an introduction, which will give you a pretty good idea of where we were going with it (I will only include those parts of the book that I authored, which seem to make up the largest proportion anyway. I have also kept in any grammatical and spelling mistakes for authenticity).

This is a story about a family of five girls and a boy. The children's father is dead but their mother is pregnant.

Good news and bad, I see.

The family moves into a large mansion. Karen, who is the youngest, suspects a spook. Her suspicion may be right because many spooky things start to happen to everyone. The Sawyer family is unaware of the exciting adventures to follow. We hope you will enjoy this spooky book. 

Each chapter essentially details a "spooky" event, of course, like in The Family Meeting.

Mrs. Sawyer had called a family meeting. Everyone arrived in the parlor just at the right time.

What time is that? I am glad they are a prompt family -- and that they have a "parlor" -- my early writing seems to be riddled with references to grand old houses. Clearly another obsession of mine.

Mrs. Sawyer started talking about the strange happenings. Without any warning Sara got up and walked to the book case. She pulled out a book to show the family. Instead of carrying the book over to the couch, she screamed and droped it. Her mother saw her hands and almost fainted. They were covered with blood. Jessica took her to the kitchen to be cleaned up.

David went over and looked at the book. "Come here!" he yelled franticly. On the book was written:

And it was written in blood! 

What else could it possibly be written in? This is a horror story, after all.

Mrs. Sawyer ordered a full exspection of the house. Tara and David: The basement. Jessica and Jenny: The Upstairs. And Mrs. Sawyer, Karen and Sara were the downstairs.

It's almost as if I was scripting one these reality shows where they sweep the house. And good thing too, because look at what they found.

Other creepy things were found: A bloody knife, A piece of black cloth, A page of a book with a blood stain on it and a once shiney ring with a red ruby. "A scary house and a scary atmosphere," whispered Jessica. 

I'll say, egads, not a ruby ring!

I know you're dying to find out what happens. Stay tuned for the next installment: Horrifying Dream.

Until then, check out "Really" and its plethora of ghost programming. And you'll soon see how they must have used my early horror writing -- particularly "Haunted Collector" which is all about objects -- as a template.

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Finished, But Not Quite

I think I have officially finished the big life-changing clear out that began back in May. Well, at least I have checked off all the main boxes on my original list. But I do feel like I'm not quite done.

Marie Kondo's book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying, has certainly been just that (which is much fodder for another post). And I am now curious to see at what point my level of possessions "clicks", as she discusses. This is essentially an equilibrium point of the number of belongings with which you feel at ease. I assume now after the initial cull is done, I can begin the process of tweaking here and there to find out where this set point lies. 

And that is good, because there are three specific reasons I don't feel completely finished. 

The first is that when it comes to sentimental items, particularly the letters and photos, I still think I kept too many. I whittled the letters/cards down from over six shoe boxes to three and I categorized and shifted through countless photos, ending up with four shoe boxes of discards and rejects. I am planning to make new photo albums with the remaining pictures -- a much more slimmed-down and edited version of my life story to remember now. 

With clothes and other less personal items, I was ready to send discarded things out to the rubbish bins or charity shop straight away. Not so with the photos and personal correspondence. I need more time to read through the letters and start to make albums of the photos, in order to decide where I am comfortable. And being an incredibly sentimental people-person, despite my brash blog post Burn 'Em?, I am no where near ready to set flames to my discarded letters. This might take me a while. 

The second reason is I haven't even really begun to read the pile of papers of my early writing. Or the diaries. I have no idea how much of that I will end up saving and in what form. But that is a project that will not take a few hours or even a weekend. And I am looking forward to the process -- and you should as well, considering the positive reaction I received from my brother and sister-in-law at my debut reading of "Thunder Under the Sun," a novel I started that sounds incredibly similarly to a V.C. Andrews book (remember Flowers in the Attic?). I promised them I would serialize it on the blog. I am currently working up the nerve. 

There's yet another reason: the electronic cull awaits. In this day and age I cannot just clear out the physical stuff and ignore the mess that awaits on all my electronic devices. Now that would be sloppy. (Kondo doesn't discuss this in the book, so I guess I'm on my own here, although a friend forwarded me her list, so I will try to use that as a guide.)

But the good news is I believe I've succeeded in the main task set out in Kondo's book: to clear out all my possessions in less than six months. The point of this is to feel a monumental shift in attitude to belongings. And the peripheral benefits of this are already clear. Not only is there the weird, added bonus of finding it incredibly easy to be neat -- something that has eluded me throughout my life -- but I am also gaining a better sense of who I am and what's important to me in life. 

(I know, no one believes I'm not a neat person. It's one of my two best kept secrets. The other one is that I am a bad speller. Just ask my Mom, she will confirm.)

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Double Trouble

I really didn't know I had a problem. The Hub has long been wary of my interest in the camera. And not in a Marilyn Monroe loving-the-lens sort of way. It's my obsession with recording every minute of our lives that has baffled him. On our first weekend away in Venice there are not many pictures of him -- he chose to not feed my addiction and hid from the camera. Now he finally plays along -- just grins -- or at least bears it.

But I didn't realize how bad it really was. Not until the boxes arrived from my parents' house two weeks ago. Not only did they contain 15 photo albums, but boxes and boxes of the negatives, doubles (remember doubles?) and rejects from the albums. Not to mention the albums and the pretty large basket of rejects that I already had over here.

I have started sifting through them and it was fun at first, trying to decide which bad memories or ex-boyfriends to discard from my collection in a bit of revisionist history. And then the sheer number of photos became terribly overwhelming. You would think I had lived in New York City for 30 years instead of 3. And that college lasted a decade. And most of the pictures of that time in my life are of the inside of bars. Friends with arms around each other, doing shots, looking happy, albeit a little drunk. I think my roommate and I must have taken pictures of every single night out we ever had. And at least a roll of film each time. There was even a series of photos of said roommate giving me my birthday gifts one year. These were exciting times.

Part of this I suppose was youth -- believing that all I experienced at that age was terribly important and I had to record every second of it. Also, I really valued my friendships and those fun times we were having (I still do, in fact). Which is all good stuff.

But why the boxes and boxes of extras and rejects and negatives? Just in case someone broke into our East Side apartment and stole my treasured photo album collection? So I could recreate it all?

The thing that I am finding particularly interesting about this whole process of de-cluttering (click here for an overview of what I am up to) is what I am learning about myself. On one level I am absolutely horrified of my degree of hoarding on the photography front, but on another I am touched about how much I have wanted to record the good things in my life so far.

I have decided to categorize the photos first before I even attempt to decide what to keep and what to get rid of (even though I already have a shoebox of definite rejects). It is just too overwhelming otherwise. It will be interesting to see how many of these photos I end up keeping -- how many do you actually need to remember the happy memories? And how much of it is just hoarding?

Related Posts:

• Let's Keep Our Mind On The Prize
• A Picture Worth A Thousand Words

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Early Writings: Dear Diary

The annoying thing about writing is that you have to have something to say. 

Of course it helps to be able to have honed the skill of prose (and I'm not saying I have yet), because you can't get very far without that. But even though beautiful prose is a joy, I don't think it's what compels us to keep reading. It's the message, isn't it? You might say that it's also the story, but then again, aren't stories just messages about life, told in an entertaining, compelling manner?  

I've been pondering my own objectives as a wannabe writer as I make my way through the childhood boxes my parents sent over, as they contain 13 diaries, as well as a lot of my early writing attempts (just wait until you hear about the start of a novel called Thunder Under The Sun). But first, let's talk about my diaries. The first one, which I've already made my way through, was not long, but is equal parts funny and painful to read. Apart from the sheer cringe factor, it's incredibly difficult to observe the way in which I viewed our baffling world. Everything is black and white, and there's a sharpness in my environment that I couldn't quite understand due to, well, being a child (I'm almost eight in the first set of entries). But I suppose that's what also makes the entries funny. 

For example, I remembered when reading through the entries that it was at that age that my Mom had to be at work earlier than my Dad, so he used to get me ready to go to school. But there must have been mornings he couldn't, and it seems I went over to our neighbor's house on those days. It emerges that I have taken a real disliking to this arrangement. Why? My indignance at my friend's mom's insistence that I blow my nose (I will keep my grammar and spelling true to the diaries -- there's no messing with perfection): 

"I was unsure I wanted to go. We had brefast I tried not to exspress my feelings and I'm good at it but I had not wanted to go. So I went. Almost every munit she'd ask me to blow my nose I felt like she didn't like me. I was glad I left to go to school."

I'm sure our neighbor was glad when I left too -- who wants a snotty kid hanging around? And what a little stoic, good at not expressing my feelings. I feel like that might have been a tiny exaggeration on my side. 

Another interesting point from -- let's call it -- Volume 1, is the fact that my difficulties with mornings began at an early age. Most entries seem to begin with this irritating waking-up stuff. Even when friends were sleeping over:

"Heidi was sleeping over a I woke up when my mother woke me up. I was not awake Heidi and I where fast a sleep." 

I was a very tired girl, it would seem:

"today my mother woke me up (and I still feel tirad)"

Also, apparently I was interested in financial services from an early age:

"and then my father took me to the bank and the lumber yard and the amp [American supermarket chain A&P]. then we went home and I had ravioli and apple sauce and bread. then my father took me to his work. So I took along pick up sticks and a car and a ballet doll so I had fun exploring [large American financial institution] and Linc showed me how to put a tape in a computer."

It was the 1980s. Seems like work with Dad was much more fun than with Mom though. One entry ends with: 

"That night we went to a boring meeting." 

Clearly not as good as earlier in the day when I was making cookies, rollerskating and playing with dolles [sic] with a friend.

I'm pretty sure I didn't have much to say in my early journaling -- not that my lunch wasn't incredibly interesting -- but at least I was starting to exercise the observational muscle. 

Stay tuned, as I plan to keep exploring writing through the perspective of my early attempts at it. If I can stand continuing to read my "work". As I said before, the cringe factor is a strong one -- I may end up being pretty selective with what I reveal, as you can only imagine.

Related Posts:

• Mornings Sorted, Well, Sort Of
• Let's Keep Our Mind On The Prize

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Let's Keep Our Mind On The Prize

I've taken a bit of a breather from the life-changing clear out process. We had friends coming to stay and then an out-of-town family party. And I was feeling smug about my progress -- as I've finished everything apart from the sentimental items. (Oh, that small category.) I think that setting aside a corner of the attic for all these things fooled my brain into thinking that I was "done". Out of sight, out of mind.

And then the boxes arrived. 

My parents are selling their house and decided they would be returning to me (and my brother) all the random things we were storing there. Even though I live in another country. I suppose the excuse that I might come back soon is losing its teeth as the years tick by and I am still in London.

A few months ago, Mom and I spent nearly a whole weekend on Skype, whittling down the 11 boxes that were sitting in their basement. Already not an easy process, I felt quite proud that I was able to get rid of lots of things that way. But after all of that, as well as some culling I delegated to her, there remained three very large boxes that she packaged up and sent over (using Excess Baggage - she told me to give them a plug in the blog as they were very good!).

You have to love the inventory she typed up for customs. A few choice examples:

• 1 bean bag doll
• 13 childhood diaries
• 4 shoeboxes of personal letters 
• Journalism award plaque
• Tooth fairy pillow

The total estimated replacement cost (for insurance purposes) of my childhood: £378.27

I unpacked everything and suddenly the corner of the attic reserved for sentimental items grew.

Here it is before:

And after:

I may have to just quit my job. Don't tell the Hub. If I want to get this sorting and clearing done in my allocated six months of the life-changing clear out, I do have my work cut out for me. An itemized list of your childhood items (including 15 photo albums) is where the rubber really hits the road.

My parents did agree to keep my dollhouse though. Which was a relief. Not sure what the Hub would have done if that had arrived at our flat.

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What If I Need It?

The manic wild clear out is progressing. The Hub and I have taken many bags to the charity shop, and after this upcoming week's Saturday bus trip -- with no car, we make for unusual creatures on the bus -- I estimate we will hit about 30 bags. I lost count at some point and the Hub scurried off with some items to donate before I could photograph them and make a record for the annals of MB&S history.

I've completed tops, bottoms, hanging clothes, socks, underwear, handbags, scarves, belts, hats, gym clothes, beach clothes, sleepwear, shoes, jewelry, books, skincare products, other toiletries, make-up, valuables (whatever that is!), electrical equipment, household equipment, household supplies, kitchen items, food supplies, games, playing cards, knick-knacks, candles, luggage, bedding, towels and seasonal items.

Phew.

By the way, this is what a bathroom looks like, deconstructed.

Scary stuff. (I love this photo, by the way, because no one can quite believe what a little hoarder I am.)

Still to go: the hard stuff, including papers, photos, sentimental papers, wall hangings/artwork. Not to mention the boxes my Mom will be shipping over which will contain some of the really tricky childhood stuff. And we've already gone through those boxes once together over Skype. You see, my parents are trying to move too. Change is in the air -- it's like Mary Poppins or something.

Apparently de-cluttering is contagious because I've convinced quite a few people to buy Ms Kondo's book and give this a go. And we've been discussing pitfalls, like what to do if you get rid of something you need. What then?

Don't worry, I've already had a bit of a crisis. I got rid of this weird purple cardigan that I was sure I never wore anymore. But then I realized that there's a particular blue dress with some purple trim for which it had been the perfect companion. But it was too late. Purple cardie had already left for the charity shop!

For a moment I was truly panicked and almost sad. I immediately started regretting all this clearing out nonsense. It was uncomfortable and I had become overzealous and really had done it now. Throwing away perfectly reasonable things that I actually needed. For a moment, I even thought about going to the charity shop and buying it again. Seriously. And then I came to my senses and figured out that I could probably find something else to wear with it. In fact, that stone-colored cropped blazer looks far better with it.

One of the big reasons I'm doing this clear out is to help myself learn to let go of fear. (I know, not quite as cool/sexy as bungee jumping or walking with lions, but baby steps here.) So I think that finding out I'm missing something is really the best thing. It wasn't really a disaster, and there's always another solution, if not an actual better outcome.

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• A Breaking-Bad-Shaped Hole
• The Closet, The Drawers And The Wardrobe

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The Next Fitness Craze: Freeze Tag!

Have you ever joined a gym and filled out that section on the form where they ask you to tick off your reasons for coming to their establishment? The choices usually include things like "weight loss, stress management, aerobic fitness, strength or toning." The list may even stretch to "fun", or "bumping into work colleagues in embarrasing lycra", although I can't remember. It's been a while since I've filled one out. I do belong to a gym, but my corporate membership rolls over nearly automatically. And it has always been worth the money to me -- even when I was not doing any traditional sort of exercise. My gym's proximity to the office was useful for nipping over to do physio exercises. In recent years I've also used the pool to introduce swimming again. And who isn't interested in the occasional after-work or lunch time sauna?

But my recent decision to stop limiting my physical activities to Bikram yoga and the occasional swim, has made me start thinking again about exercise. And this time it's different. When I was in high school I exercised because I was trying out competitive sport (not particularly my forte). In my 20s it was what you did in New York City, you know, to avoid "putting on weight". Even when you were very thin. And I suppose, to try to deal with first-time-job stress and the terrifying idea of making your own way in the world (whether or not step classes actually help with this is still debatable).

But now, I have more experience and hopefully more wisdom, to really think about why I want to exercise. I don't know if it's my attempt at an epic clear out and determining which of my possessions spark joy, but I find myself pondering what kind of exercise it is that I actually want to do, or have liked most in my life. Friday night skiing at Greek peak in my university days, the Bikram floor series (possibly because it is after the standing series and involves lying down), swimming off the back of the boat in the Mediterranean, snorkeling in Key West, dancing, summertime tennis, ping-pong, and of course golf, clearly the most fun you can have with your clothes on.

But some of the activities that pop into my head are those from my childhood, like riding my bike on summer Sundays when the Bronx River Parkway was closed to traffic, jungle gym climbing, any kind of swimming in any kind of water -- including underwater handstands and somersaults (of course!) and freeze tag. Who doesn't like freeze tag? In fact, I am sure it will soon be appearing as the next cool class at my gym. Crazier things have happened. I mean, even step seems to be making a comeback. (I cannot tell you how horrified I was to have a conversation with one of the younger women at the office about this gym class she took called 'step'.) 

I'm not sure how my love of tag translates into my current phys ed routine. But I am pondering all this at the moment, while I finish the very physical work of clearing out our flat. However, when the Reebok gym at Canary Wharf starts offering it as a class, I will be asking for some sort of royalty payment. 

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The Closet, The Drawers And The Wardrobe

Living in England, I am disappointed that I don't actually own one of those old-style wooden wardrobes, just like I imagined when reading that first Chronicles of Narnia book. I remember not even really understanding what a wardrobe was when I first read it! But perhaps someday, I will actually own one of my own (a girl can dream).

In the meantime, I have to make do with clearing out closets and dressers (or "chests of drawers" as they say here). If you happened to read my last post, you will know that I have embarked on an epic de-cluttering, and am adhering to the methods laid out in Marie Kondo's soothing and inspiring book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying.

I have already completed clothes and books, which doesn't sound like a lot, but took a shocking amount of time, as well as physical and emotional energy. Asking yourself object by object if something sparks joy is effective -- and quite an interesting process on all sorts of levels -- but man, it's exhausting. Last Sunday after I finished all my books I had to take a 2-hour nap, just like a toddler. 

We'll discuss books at some point, but there were quite a few interesting by-products of the clothes sorting process that really surprised me. The first is that I can now actually see all my clothes, which is incredibly practical and has made getting dressed a much easier, and more fun, thing to do. Part of this is down to the fact that I only have items that spark joy in my collection (but of course), the other due to Marie's vertical folding technique which allows me to see all my tee-shirts, jeans, and socks when I open a drawer. I am not an expert at this folding yet, but you can get the idea with my tee-shirt attempt:

Although the socks are my favorite:

What a clever lady, eh? (Although one of my friends said she figured this out for herself and rolls her clothes so she can see them. Where do these domestic goddesses come from?)

Another surprise is how tidy I have become with my clothes -- it's as if my whole attitude to them has changed. I have always been a throw-clothes-on-a-chair sort of person (just ask my Mom), and then procrastinate about putting them away or in the laundry hamper. But recently I haven't even minded folding my clean clothes, a task I usually leave for our cleaner. She probably thinks I've had a minor stroke.

The last, and perhaps most nice thing that happened with this process is that I was immediately able to see the holes in my wardrobe. There weren't many, mind you, mostly I saw how I already had enough of just about everything: tee-shirts and camisoles, dresses, suits, jeans and dressy tops. And black skirts -- I apparently LOVE black skirts. They may just my most favorite thing in the world. So I am severely lacking of skirts in any other color, and I also realized I haven't bought dressy heels for so long that all of them needed heel repair. I brought them into work to take them to the shoe repair place, and had a sudden realization that maybe it was time to let them go. Ten minutes in Dune at lunchtime and I had two new pairs. And five minutes on the Boden site and I had three beige-y, neutral colored skirts winging their way to me (two of which I ended up keeping -- a very high hit rate for online shopping in my humble opinion). I have never shopped so quickly in my life, perhaps because I knew I actually needed the items.

And I don't feel too bad about spending the money, considering the plethora of items that have gone to the charity shop. 

And now, onto the next set of items to sort through. Maybe when I'm done our flat will have room for an actual wardrobe. But what will I put inside it? 

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A Breaking-Bad-Shaped Hole

Last bank holiday weekend was momentous: on the rainy Monday, in a marathon session, the Hub and I finished watching the last episodes of Breaking Bad. I complained to him this week that I felt the palpable presence of the Breaking-Bad-shaped hole in our life.

In 2014 so far, the Hub and I have been obsessed with two things: the television series Breaking Bad and trying to sell our flat and buy a house. At least we have been successful in one endeavor – we have finally finished the series. The second one has eluded us.

But what do these two things have in common? Apart from the role they play in our nefarious plan to set up a meth lab? Not much, apart from the fact that the latter has inspired me to partake on a massive de-cluttering, and the conclusion of the former has now given me the time. With the Breaking-Bad-shaped hole in our life, I can now take my possessions in hand and figure out what is essential and what is not. And because the flat isn't selling, the clearing out at least gives me something I can physically do, while nothing else is happening.

I read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying by Marie Kondo to get inspired. Don't be fooled by the somewhat strange name – it's a gem of a book about how to clear away your crap for good. She claims – unlike the diet industry that locks people in for life – that her clients never return. And although I have only just started on her prescriptive process, I can see why. For three reasons.

The first is that she recommends sorting through your stuff in a unique way: you don't go drawer by drawer or room by room, but by the type of object. So when you are clearing books, you collect them from every corner of the house and go through them methodically. Although initially this seems strange, I can see the madness now that I have begun. You would not believe where things lurk in your home undiscovered!

The second is a strategy to do the clear out only once, and fix the problem for good. She says not to take over 6 months with your de-cluttering binge or you will not feel the effects of a large shift in your environment, and perhaps more importantly, your attitude toward your possessions. Which brings me to the third reason to devour this book in just a few sittings: it helps you to focus on the things you want to keep, instead of what to throw away. You take each object in your hands and ask yourself if it elicits joy. What a question! What does that even mean? Well, I can tell you, it's a totally different question as to the usual de-cluttering ones: is it something useful? Do you love it? I have found that there are even things that I love that I am actually ready to let go of. (And just to clarify, not the Hub – he is already starting to worry I may throw him away by accident, such is the speed of the clearing I have already completed!)

What I love most about Kondo's process is how it helps you focus on what you want to surround yourself with. Because if you can practice asking yourself that question in regard to objects, then it's easier to do it with bigger things in life.

I will tell you about the clothes folding another time (it's revolutionary!). In the meantime, new T.V. series recommendations are very welcome. Otherwise we may end up with no possessions at all. At least moving – if it ever happens – will be easier.

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Broken Windows

I'm a moderation girl. I don't do fasts or detoxes. I don't exercise every day and I think the best kinds of exercise are the moderate ones – walking, swimming, yoga. A little dancing. I've never 'given up' drinking in January as I don't tend to go on a Christmas binge. I make sure I eat some fruit and veg every day but pretty much everything else I consume is what appeals at the time and meets my hunger levels. And although clutter stresses me out, I don't mind a bit of mess as long as it gets cleaned up eventually.

In fact, my modus operandi when it comes to mess is that I make one and then when I can't stand it anymore I clean it up. Typically this happens at home twice a week – once on Sunday evening, when I clean up the chaos of the weekend and once on Thursday when our cleaner tidies up the chaos of the week.

It got me thinking – is this the best way to handle mess?

If you've ever read Malcolm Gladwell's book The Tipping Point, you'll know about the 'broken window' theory. It's a crime theory. It states that repairing broken window in a neighborhood in a timely manner prevents further vandalism and therefore stops escalation into more serious crime. I suppose it equates to setting a tone. A sidewalk filled with litter is more likely to induce further littering.

I feel like the broken window theory could apply to mess in my life. If a counter/bed/chair is already littered with 'stuff' then what's the incentive to put away the clothes I'm wearing on that particular day or wash that one extra bowl I'm adding to the dishes by the sink?

Would it work to have a 'no tolerance' policy on mess? Or is that just asking for trouble?

I wonder how much of my aversion to putting things away right away comes from my overall tendency to procrastinate, and my belief that tasks are always difficult. Funny enough, bloggers Leo Babauta and Gretchen Rubin give some similar advice this week. Babauta talks about how cleaning as you go is one of the seven little things that make life effortless. And Rubin discusses how important it is to put things away where they want to be.

I always used to think that these types of techniques were geeky and I'd be even more of a geek if I was well-organized and neat, but the reality is that the more organized I get, the more time I actually have for fun things (including writing a blog). Life doesn't have to be so hard all the time. And a lot of it is being prepared to let go of bad habits – procrastination and mess are, after all, anxiety relieving in the short term, but don't do us any good in the long run.

So I'll have a go and try what I will call the 'broken window' anti-mess technique. I'll let you know how it goes. Only one question remains: who is going to tell the Hub about our new household policy?

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First Things First

Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I try to clean up. Whether it's my desk at work, or our home, or the kitchen – after a cooking session that makes me look like I employ similar preparation techniques to the Muppets' Swedish chef.

Life is messy and chaotic, but cleaning up at least gives me a tiny, if temporary, moment of calm to feel like I can face a difficult task head on.

Lately I've been giving myself a hard time that I'm not working on my book proposal. Or more accurately, completely re-working my book proposal which I first wrote nearly two years ago (how did the time go so fast?). I had an idea late last year on how to make it more interesting (hopefully) but haven't done any actual work on it, let alone get started on some sample chapters.

I've had some good excuses, the biggest being planning our wedding, which was a pretty time-consuming task. But now that it's over and I've done the most important post-wedding admin task – thank-you notes – what's the problem?

I've been thinking about this a lot, mainly during my 'thinking time' – my walks to and from the train station. Like most problems, or should I say challenges, you sometimes have to let them simmer for a while before what is bothering you, or blocking you, rises to the top and presents itself.

Thing is, although I would like to get started on the book stuff, there are a lot of admin things hanging over my head, including many that I put off when I was planning the wedding. And I feel like they're cluttering up my brain. Now I know that life will always be filled with red tape, so it's impossible to get to the point that it's all done, but there is something to be said for getting projects completed. As I've pointed out before (in my post Making Peace With Red Tape) clearing away the clutter does leave room to focus.

There are some things that I really should have never put off, like buying some smoke detectors for our flat. (Please don't yell at me – this means you, Mom! Your new son-in-law could also be held to blame.) Other than said anti-death-wish tasks, there are some projects that although not totally necessary, their completion would probably make me feel calmer. Like finally getting that external hard drive and backing up all my photos. There are also a lot of things I'd like to do to promote this blog that I've been putting off too (see my addendum below). 

It's probably a good idea to give myself some deadlines, just to make sure that these little admin tasks don't take years. The point is to tackle them head on to make room for more creative and exciting stuff, not to just procrastinate. Ah yes, and I should probably put to use some of those good techniques I learned in the Procrastination Equation. Especially acknowledging that I shouldn't be too hard on myself – we are impulsive creatures and my desire to hang out with The Hub and watch the Apprentice will probably always come before buying that external hard drive or actually finishing my filing backlog.

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Do you enjoy reading this blog? I'm going to be exploring how to reach out to new as well as existing readers, such as by finally getting to grips with using twitter to its full advantage, creating a facebook page, etc. But I'd also be grateful if you could help spread the word. If you have any friends who you think might be interested in reading my musings, please do forward them the link. More importantly, if you have any suggestions for how you think I could be getting myself out there more (I know some of you are probably really good at this) or even what type of posts you most like reading, let me know. Either email me here or post in the comments section. I really would love to hear from you.

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Ten Bags Of Clothes

On Sunday my brain forgot that Monday, as a bank holiday (Queen's Birthday) was not actually Sunday. So there was no Bikram Yoga class at 3 p.m.. Not to worry, the extra hour and a half was a very good reason to do what I had been putting off – finishing up the "Great Clothing Clean Out."

On the bus back from the yoga studio (yes, I actually went all the way there) I pondered why I had been putting off the final stages. If you haven't read my original post, I'm finally getting rid of all the clothes I don't wear anymore, including (gasp!) the clothes that don't fit and the ones I've been holding onto for sentimental purposes.

I did give myself a small margin of error – two tiny cloth storage boxes. In which I deposited a few special dresses, including a bridesmaid dress, the old wool sweater I stole from my Dad when I was in high school, a pair of sweat pants I stole from my Mom in high school (when she reads this she will think I'm ridiculous) and a wool skirt my Grandmother made for my Mom that never quite fit her right, which ended up in my possession. I shortened it to make it a bit sexier – as sexy as blue tartan plaid can be – but it no longer fits.

I also saved a tee-shirt from the publication where the Hub and I worked when we first met. He actually made me keep that one – but don't tell him I told you that.

I had already made the purge from my closets and drawers, but I was procrastinating going through it all again, deciding what to throw away and what to give away, because I knew it would be hard. I am a sentimental person, and also, part of me is kind of sad that I don't fit into the clothes I wore in my 20s. I've been holding onto the hope that I'd get back into them. But regardless of what happens to my body, holding onto a lot (yes, 10 bags worth) of clothes that mostly don't fit isn't helping me in any way. Holding onto things you don't use is living in the past or the future. And that means living in fear. Leo Baubata at Zen Habits wrote a really good post on this recently – about using decluttering as Zen meditation.

But it was still hard. I felt the anxiety rise as I put the clothes in bags to go, but as with all anxiety, if you just hold tight and let it happen – instead of avoiding whatever it is that's causing it – the fear eventually dissipates. And I thought about the people who would stumble upon my cast-off clothes in the charity shop and actually wear them. Even after my smaller cousin went through a lot of them while she was here for the wedding, there were still nice things in the pile that someone else could be using.

I also discovered something else about my procrastination in the process. Whenever I am avoiding something, it's usually because I think it's going to be hard. And I basically run a little film in my head imagining how long it's going to take me and how difficult it will be. So in my pondering on the bus before I got home I decided I was going to change the reel. I started visualizing how I was going to tackle the clear out easily and quickly. I conceded that I might have a few moments of anxiety but I would deal with it OK and I'd finish the project easily before something we had planned at 6 p.m. And guess what… I did! It actually worked. So I plan to now test out my weird 'visualization' technique with other things I'm dreading. If it got me from a messy attic strewn with piles of clothes to 10 bags ready to go to the charity shop, it might just be an effective technique.

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Making Peace With Red Tape

I have finally finished my U.S. taxes. Well, I have finally finished gathering together the materials to do them, so that I could send them to my tax preparer. (Doing my U.S. taxes as an expat is clearly out of the question. I am still traumatized by my Dad making me do them when I was in college and I had to try to figure out how to account for share sales that were paying my tuition).

Life is full of red tape. There's always something you need to be doing admin-wise. Whether it's making a dentist appointment, figuring out how the heck to send a postal ballot in the U.K., applying for a mortgage or doing your taxes, it will probably never cease. There are thank-you notes to send, birthday cards to write and garbage to take out. Living in a society with other peoples comes with all sorts of rules and responsibilities this way. Even dying requires a certain amount of admin.

I've started making a sort of truce with red tape. Not sure if I'm at peace with it yet, but the light bulb has finally gone on and I've realized that putting things off doesn't make them go away and instead creates more pain. Playing catch-up is always a grind. So why do so many of us keep things on our to-do list for ages, taunting us?

I was thinking about it last night and realized that sometimes completing things frightens me. When things are all done, beds are made and the admin is under control, what's left? If I didn't have silly things to worry about, would I be faced with the really scary things – the fears that I don't particularly like sitting with?

Ironically, having all sorts of admin hanging over my head avoids a certain amount of discomfort. Clearing away all the excess clutter leaves me alone with whatever is there (whatever that is). I suppose it's a little like meditation. Just sitting there, doing nothing, alone with your thoughts. No wonder people turn the other direction when you start talking about meditation.

But the flip side – and the less scary side – is that when you do clear away all the clutter of life, you can also find the space to focus. You can touch base with the uncomfortable stuff and then make choices about what's actually important.

But practically, how do you get started on clearing all the admin away?

What has helped me is finding some time to focus on it – a scheduled time. Setting aside a specific time does two things – it makes sure you stay focused when you're doing it and also it gives your brain space to do other things when it's not the time to do admin.

For example, when I do manage to get up early (at 6 a.m.), I'm not actually ready to do creative things, but I've found that I am really good at clearing my inbox and sorting out other tasks like bills, online grocery shopping or figuring out how to get to an upcoming country wedding by train. I prefer to get serious writing done instead after work and before dinner. Also, starting the day with admin sorted makes it much easier to really concentrate on work at 9 a.m.

Another thing I do is set aside some time on Sunday nights to go through the stack of papers that has accumulated throughout the week (mail, magazines, odd scraps of paper with lists scribbled on them, etc.). I file away important bits and decide what to chuck. That means during the week I can open my mail without worrying too much about it. I can just put it in the pile if it can wait until Sunday. I know piling things is another form of procrastination, but I'm OK with only sorting it out once a week (hey, nobody's perfect).

Also, if I have a bigger project I want to do, such as cleaning out a closet, or putting together a flat-packed piece of furniture (don't get me started on how long this actually takes – I am never ordering furniture in pieces again), I schedule it in. Block out a Saturday afternoon. Just like I would do with a social engagement. If you want to de-clutter your life and your brain, you have to build in the time.

Obviously, you have to be your own expert and find what works for you. But before you just sigh and forget about it, thinking red tape is the bug bear impossible to conquer, it's worth examining what it is that keeps you from actually dealing with annoying admin. And what you could gain by getting it under control.

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