Oscar has no problem with trash -- he LOVES trash!
Adults with ADD are notorious for hanging onto clutter. We’ve being scolded our whole lives for loosing things through our carelessness. If we never throw anything a way, we know it’s there … somewhere. We might not be able to find it right now, but we know we didn’t lose it! It’s just misplaced, right? We can find it here … somewhere … even if it takes eight hours to do it.
For years, that was my major motivation in hanging on to every little worthless piece of junk. I didn’t know what was important, and I didn’t know when I might need it, so I might as well hang onto it. My clutter was an allergy-inducing, frustrating eyesore, but there was security in it too. The security that whatever it was, I probably had it around here … somewhere.
And so, the hardest part of my organizing journey was the purge — getting rid of things I didn’t need.
The “give away” category was bad enough. Intellectually, I knew that I didn’t need the cheap set of cookware I’d bought in college, but emotionally, I was convinced that if I donated them, I’d be looking for them a month later. But with the giveaway pile, I was able to reason with myself. I could tell myself that I hadn’t used those things in years, and that someone else would be getting good use from them. Giving them away was a good thing for everybody.
But putting items into the “trash” category, and then actually putting them in the actual trash — that was the worst.
Items that qualified as “trash” were pretty numerous. “Trash” included anything that was broken. “Trash” included anything that was missing a part, and anything that was clearly a part to something else, but I didn’t know what. “Trash” included anything that was too dirty to use. “Trash” included leaking, duplicate, and triplicate cleaning supplies in various states of emptiness.
So into the trash went the four bottles of different types of eco-friendly household cleaner (I kept two bottles to have on hand). Into the trash went the non-stick cook wear that was scratched and peeling. Likewise all those coffee mugs with broken handles, that I’d been meaning to glue together for years. Then there were the cheap plastic bowls and plates and silverware that I’d inherited in college from graduating seniors, all of which was stained or cracked or even melted.
Even though these items were useless, it was hard for me to toss them. I felt like I should be able to “come up with a use” for them. Many of the items couldn’t even be recycled, and I felt guilty about having so much garbage. I didn’t want to be another greedy, wasteful American, my home bursting at the seams with unused purchases that were destined for overflowing landfills.
Fortunately, I had my clutter buddy. This was an area where really be a realty check. She reassured me it was OK to throw things out when they’re broken and useless. She pointed out holding onto my worthless junk would in no way solve our collective cultural problems with waste. Most importantly, she explained that by throwing away all that garbage, I’d be able to keep better track of what I owned. I would buy fewer things overall, and therefore I would be less wasteful overall.
We ended our day by taking several trips to the curb with my garbage. Then we hit Goodwill with several bags full of donations. I felt bruised. I felt embarrassed about the years worth of junk we had found in my kitchen — in the place where I prepared and served food. I felt guilty about the waste I had generated. And I felt bereft, too; bereft of the items I was giving up, however useless, because of the security they represented to me.
This time was the scariest part in my organizing process. Not only had I just undergone a Great Purge, but I would have to wait another week before really putting my kitchen back together. Since no other part in my home was organized, it was necessary to designate an area on the kitchen floor for items that would ultimately belong in the kitchen, but wouldn’t have a “home” there until we’d organized more than the food prep area. This pile would be kept off to the side of the dining area so nothing would get stepped on. I was terrified that it would wind up staying there forever. But I took a deep breath, scheduled a decluttering session with my buddy for the following week, and turned to the next step in the process: the Sorting.