Let’s look at some current facts, shall we?

  • My email inboxes are a right mess.
  • I have far too many books on my shelves.
  • I shamelessly admit to collecting Pop! Funko’s–have too many.
  • I have baskets of old clothes I won’t ever wear.
  • My closet is a hoarders dream and my worst enemy.
  • My digital photograph catalogs are nightmarish.
  • And on and on…

It’s the curse of the collector, the too-busy, the nostalgia-driven adult, the “filling small holes with things” type of person that suffers the above. And so of course that’s me.

Nevertheless, I’m ready to move beyond the clutter because it’s built up like a static in my brain and I, as eloquently as I’m able to put it, simply CAN’T anymore.

That’s right, I can’t.

It’s time for massive Operation De-clutter 2016 and while I know it’ll be best to do it one step at a time, my brain is screaming at me to DO IT ALL RIGHT NOW PLEASE.

It’s quite exhausting mentally, and I usually end up in an assumed fetal position doing fuckall. And then nothing gets done and the things continue to amass and I grow slightly more insane as each day passes.

So I’m here to officially announce my break-up with clutter. I’m separating myself from its space-consuming gravity-suck: digital, physical and imagined (in-head clutter is the worst, anxiety-driving kind and this will get its own blog later on). I will not permit the static to shock me into a sedentary lifestyle a minute longer; it’s time to blow out the cobwebs with an ultra-super power washer and cackle maniacally as they fall to the ground in heaps and—okay you get the picture.

BUH BYE, see you never Clutter!

I suppose now would be the time where I describe how I am going to complete this very Everest-esque ascension to cue angels singing Simple Living.

Well, in keeping it minimalist: it’ll be done one step at a time. I will rummage through email addresses (I have around 10-15 of these, I’m not kidding, I hate it so v much) and do mass unsubscribing(s), then delete delete delete. No more “Oh but I created it for a twitter account and it means so mu—“ No, none of that. It’s a fucking email address. It cares not for my emotions.

Next will be the digital media mess I’ve collected since I began professionally photographing back in 2010. Tallying around 100,000+ unsorted images, this will undoubtedly take a LIFETIME to weed through, but I can and will do it.

After that will be the house clutter and…this will be the hardest part for me. As I’m the “I have a memory attached to everything” kind of person, for me to let go of books, collectibles I no longer collect, clothes I remember wearing during ridiculously happy experiences, and anything else I deem “can’t-ever-move-on-from”, it’s definitely going to be challenging.

But it must be done. While it’s a necessity from a space standpoint (to be clear for a moment, I’m not an actual hoarder), it’s also needed in terms of breathable brain room. I see now that the memories will always exist, and so therefore knowing this allows me to part ways with the objects themselves. They’re no longer needed to fulfill or offer any sense of gratification. The things become obsolete, but the memories never can be.

Sounds easy and to the point, yeah? Like it could be done within a 24-hour span and yet, I’m going to level with you: I’m terrified of what this will do for my undiagnosed OCD. I get twitchy thinking about it, but the nerves will inevitably fade and things will return to normal. They’ll be better, really.

It’ll be freeing, I imagine, and I have every intention of updating this blog on the Operations progress (perhaps even with images!).

I need to be held accountable and to do that, people desire proof, so I will openly give it. Email address deletions will be first in line–it will be tricky to prove, but I’ll find a way. Then the following will be completed as they were listed above and I promise you, I will have one big pile of shit to show, of that there is little question.

Lastly, while it is true that I am terrified, I am also excited to undertake this. Giddy, even. It means letting go of so much of who I used to be—letting go of a person I don’t want to be any longer and so I welcome this journey. Am ready for it.

Discussion: Can you relate? Are you withholding a comment because you’re not ready to let go of that 35 year old unicorn knick-knack you bought yourself, with your own earned money from 1981? Let me know. Maybe we can help each other! Go through the weeping processes together and lighten the burden of goodbye. <3