Perhaps it was the six pairs of mismatched sneakers I had to sidestep or the family room that resembled a post-clearance sale disaster. It could have been the half-finished art projects, broken crayons, and markers without caps scattered across the kitchen table. A glance at all this clutter sent me over the edge.
Honestly, I felt like I was living with a bunch of pack rats, and it was pushing me to my limits.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not the type to obsessively clean. I don’t change my sheets every week, the vacuum isn’t my daily companion, and yes, I have a few science experiments lurking in the fridge. My approach to domestic life has generally been, “Good enough.”
Lately, however, I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of all this stuff. My mind races with thoughts like, “Seriously, family, are you trying to drive me insane with all this useless junk?”
Most days, I try to overlook the mess. I step around the shoes piled by the front door and ignore the heaps of craft projects and paperwork cluttering the counters. I resist the urge to toss the roughly 15,000 Pokémon and baseball cards scattered across every flat surface into the trash.
I take deep breaths and remind myself that there’s beauty in the chaos (what does that even mean anymore?). I channel my inner Zen.
Then I remember that Zen checked out a long time ago, and I’m fresh out of patience because Zen Mom has morphed into Overwhelmed Mom, who has completely lost her cool.
It’s not that I expect my home to mirror a magazine spread or think my kids should thrive with only a handful of toys (wooden and non-electronic, of course). Still, it would be a relief not to trip over baseball cleats every time I ascend the stairs. It would be fabulous if my kitchen counter wasn’t a dumping ground for unrecognizable “art projects” my child doesn’t remember creating but refuses to discard. And it would be absolutely wonderful if there wasn’t a meltdown every time I suggested parting with a dusty rock collection sitting on the coffee table.
There’s just too much of it. I am drowning in clutter.
It’s not just the overwhelming quantity of toys, clothes, papers, art supplies, and other “stuff” that seems to multiply right under my nose, but also the fact that no one appears to remember to clean up after themselves. Is it genuinely that difficult to toss a snack wrapper in the trash? Or to take a plate to the sink—or gasp!—the dishwasher? Why is it so hard to place the clothes you just shed into the laundry hamper instead of leaving them on the floor?
And then there are the shoes. Oh, family, we need to discuss the shoes. Why are there 25 pairs piled up by the front door? We are a family of four. Four. This is unnecessary.
Surely, I can’t be the only one feeling this way.
I’m not fully committed to minimalism, but I aspire to it. Our home is cozy, and we own one car. I dream of organized drawers, open spaces, a bathroom counter free of Lego structures, and a front entryway not blocked by a mountain of footwear. Is that too much to ask?
Yet, despite my B+ minimalist aspirations, somehow, we accumulate all this stuff, which breeds into even more stuff until our home resembles the clearance aisle at T.J. Maxx. All this excess is causing me anxiety—seriously.
I’m in desperate need of assistance here. For instance, grandparents, how about gifting my kids a trip to the museum for their birthday instead of the latest trendy toy that will inevitably gather dust in the basement? And teachers, could we possibly exchange emails instead of sending home mountains of paperwork? Fellow parents, can we agree to skip the goody bags and the pointless plastic trinkets that children take home after birthday parties?
And to the three other residents of my home: I understand it’s hard to let go of items. Trust me, I can rationalize keeping almost anything. What if a band of rogue toddlers shows up and wants to play with that box of Duplos or old Happy Meal toys we haven’t touched in three years? What if Amazon Prime goes offline, and I suddenly need a garlic press?
But I’m quite sure we can part with the handwritten notes from the fantasy baseball draft three years ago or the 357 Matchbox cars. It won’t hurt to toss your snack wrappers in the trash and bring your cup to the sink. That rock collection will be just fine outside with all the other rocks, and those scraps of paper will find a better home in the recycling bin. Believe me.
Currently, my routine resembles this: Clean up. Get lazy. Nag my family to tidy their mess. Ignore the chaos for a while. Nag some more. Lose my mind. Rinse and repeat.
This cycle is unsustainable.
Maybe my family is genuinely oblivious to the clutter. Perhaps they have a higher tolerance for mess. Or maybe I’m raising a crew of wildlings. Whatever the reason, something has to change. We need to declutter and simplify because our mental well-being and the enjoyment of our home are far more important than all this stuff.
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Summary
This article discusses the overwhelming feeling of living in a cluttered home, addressing the challenges of managing family messes and the need for a decluttered living space for mental well-being. It emphasizes the importance of teamwork in maintaining a tidy home while also exploring practical solutions to combat clutter.