A tidy place is a tidy mind
As the new year unfolds, I found myself in the familiar ritual of clearing out my shed, a space that had unintentionally become a storage unit for physical remnants of the past. Little did I know that this shed-clearing endeavour would transcend the physical realm, sparking a much-needed mental clear-out.
Amidst the discarded pedals of an old bike, wedding congratulations from a marriage long gone, and boxes of miscellaneous parts, I realised the shed mirrored the clutter within my mind. The mess, the dysfunction, the overwhelming feeling—these were not limited to the physical space but echoed the mental load I carried.
As I sifted through the debris, I recognised the emotional weight attached to certain items. A bag of ties I used to wear to former church meetings, for instance, prompted a sharp pain. Would I wear them again? Was I holding onto the past for no reason other than habit? This introspection extended beyond the physical clutter, leading me to question the emotional baggage I clung to.
The process of elimination began with the most obvious: rubbish, clutter, and habits that no longer served me. It was a therapeutic release, a conscious decision to let go of what was unnecessary. However, a more profound realization struck me—my tendency to put things on a mental shelf, deferring the decision to deal with them later.
The metaphorical black bin bag became a powerful tool for introspection. I asked myself, "What value does this add to my life?" If it added value, it stayed. If it cost me something—freedom, joy, or peace—it had to go. This simple yet profound approach mirrored the decisions I made in my physical space.
Embracing a similar mindset for my mental clutter required time and presence. Just as I dedicated moments to each item in the shed, I needed to delve into my mental space, questioning why certain thoughts and habits persisted. If they no longer added value, I had the power to release them.
Indecision was a common thread in both physical and mental clutter. Just as I hesitated about the fate of items in the shed, I often wavered in my emotional decisions. Where should this mental clutter go? The waste of indecision became apparent, and I realised that it didn't matter where it went but that I made a decision.
Among the shed's findings were not just discarded items but treasures—memories of my son, tools for repairs, and a bike I once loved. Creating physical space translated into newfound capacity, enabling me to prioritise what truly mattered. The plan is clear: make more time for things I love, both physically and emotionally.
In clearing out the shed I found new motivation for the things I used to love. So, as I embark on a group bike ride with my community tomorrow morning, I carry not just the physical weight of discarded clutter but the mental freedom that comes from letting go. The shed-clearing journey became a metaphor for life—a reminder to make space for what adds value and release what holds us back. In the clearing, there is space for new adventures, both in the shed and within.
