A few months ago, I confessed to how emotional I was when attempting to get rid of 90% of my stuff. It wasn’t just a simple fact of not wanting to declutter and part with my things, it was much more than that.
I experienced so much hate, anger, confusion, and worst of all – shame. Selling items I held onto since high school (I’m in my mid-thirties) made me realize how much of my identity was tied to stuff. Just stuff.
In fact, I had nicknames dedicated to the things I collected and was proud of it. I was so proud to have large collections of Pez dispensers, and surrounded myself with shelves upon shelves of these cute little candy holders.
Before we move on with this story, let’s backtrack a bit so I can explain why I challenged myself to get rid of 90% of my stuff.