I Tried to Declutter. My House Said No. Apparently, every chipped mug and mystery cable has a compelling case for staying.

Originally published in Crow’s Feet: Life As We Age on Medium.com

Whether I call it downsizing or decluttering, the result is the same: I’m still disposing of items, shifting them from drawer to drawer, or simply hiding all my beloved ‘stuff’ in a different location.

I hang on to everything just in case I might need it someday. I have refills for things I’ve misplaced or thrown away — but who knows? I might find them later and be mad at myself for tossing the refill. Then there’s the screw or piece of pottery that might belong to something that needs fixing if I could only find the source. And just in case an appliance breaks, I really should have a spare one waiting in the wings.

I’ve kept clothes in sizes so small I couldn’t fit my big toe in them, and don’t even get me started on those expensive suits. I paid good money for them! I may be 71, but if someone suddenly offers me an executive position, I’d better be ready to squeeze back into them. I’ll just have to dust off the shoulders. Cough, cough.

I’ve been in the process of downsizing for about 10 years and still can’t find the bottom of my closets. I don’t think I’ve grasped the concept; a more accurate description of my approach to decluttering might be an archaeological dig.

I’ve Simply Run Out of Room
The first of two reasons I embarked on this crusade is that I’ve simply run out of room. It’s been over a decade since we moved from a four-bedroom family home into a two-bedroom condo. A lot of our possessions and furniture had to go, but special pieces, chosen with great care, I wasn’t able to part with. And of course there are all those bits and bobs — my treasures — that I cart around with me everywhere.

The Clock is Winding Down
The second reason, even though I’m forever rewinding my own clock, is that chronologically, time is winding down. I want to spare our daughter the nightmare of going through all our possessions when we embark on our forever journey to paradise.

And really, who am I saving all this stuff for? My daughter? Grandkids? Quite frankly, I don’t think anyone wants our old junk. Yes, it’s special to my husband and me, but everyone collects their own keepsakes over their lifetimes. Very little of what we have needs to be passed on (aside from the photo albums).

The Chairwoman of Anti-Decluttering
My artist mother Elizabeth has hung on to more than her share of stuff simply because of her eclectic pursuits: colourful clothes, hats and purses; books; interesting newspaper and magazine articles; objets d'art; historical photos; paintings; and giclée prints. Lots and lots of art. More than once, my younger sister has complained that all the pins, nails and tape were the only things holding up the walls in our mother’s home. If we tried to extract them, the whole place would collapse as if removing a load-bearing wall.

Our parents’ home was always ‘full’ but organized. And as Elizabeth aged like a fine wine, it only got more, shall I say, robust. Before my father passed away, his bedroom was done in military utilitarian style, showcasing pristine white walls and clean lines. But then, my mother’s spreading museum of paraphernalia slowly oozed into the space left behind. A minimalist’s nightmare!

For more than 60 years, my siblings and I showered our parents with letters and gifts. But letting go of those treasures was hard for Elizabeth — so she didn’t. Instead, she simply regifted them to each of her children, keeping everything in the family. Clever, Mom. She also bundled up our old report cards, yearbooks, special occasion cards, photos, and knick-knacks she had faithfully saved. Since there were six of us, she managed to clear a considerable amount of space, but still, she had merely scratched the surface.

When Elizabeth moved into a seniors care facility, my sister had the unenviable task of sorting through her treasures. She eventually filled her own garden shed and rented a storage unit to accommodate everything our mother was adamant she wanted to keep. And since Elizabeth turned 104 in May, she may outlive us all and have to sort through it herself. That would certainly be easier for the rest of us.

The Chairwoman’s Protégé
My own experience with decluttering is similar. Having only two children, my saved collections from my children are nowhere near Elizabeth’s. But I am my mother’s daughter, and my passion for collecting books, art, and bric-a-brac is a bit of a space problem.

The simplest decluttering has been shredding old paper records now that everything lives in the cloud. Books are no longer a problem either. My favourites fill one bookcase, but beyond those treasured volumes, I now read everything on my iPad.

I still need wall space for original art, limited edition prints, photographs, and shelves for ornaments. I have suggested to my husband we should consider upsizing as I have run out of wall space.

The Master Bedroom
A couple of days ago, I was contemplating the last time I had looked into my bedside table drawers to see what lay within. I decided anything that I hadn’t looked at recently was heading for the waste receptacle. After peeking in my husband’s side table and finding it full to the brim, I decided to leave that problem to him — which means he will simply ignore it.

I got busy and opened the two drawers on my side. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. But unfortunately, very little made its way to the garbage. I did find a few things to recycle to Goodwill; some were shuffled to another drawer in my office where I keep art supplies since I don’t have an arts and crafts room; the cotton balls and nail polish were transferred to the bathroom, and my travel stuff — such as American currency, passport and headphones case, etc. — were left where they were. Old magazines were recycled, and I was done. It looked about the same.

Storage Closet
There are three boxes of all the Christmas ornaments my kids made me when they were little. None of these precious items are going anywhere except back onto the tree (95% are homemade) every December. I will be carting these things around until the day I die. And since everything else is too far back for me to reach, I consider myself done.

Bedroom №2 Closet
If you are a woman like me, you would probably agree, ‘That box is just the perfect size! I’ll have to hang on to it.’ Yup, I’m one of those and have a closet in my office half full of empty boxes. The other half are boxes and tubs of cords, chargers and extension cords that belong to something — I just can’t remember what. They might even be 1970s technology, but if I throw them out, I’ll find out it was needed the very next day.

There’s also a couple of boxes of stuff I might need for travel, parties, and more crafting that doesn’t fit into the storage closet; advertising banners for old businesses; laptop carriers; and who knows what. It’s so mind-bogglingly crowded in there I just closed the door.

The Office aka Arts & Crafts Room
As I mentioned, I don’t have an arts and crafts room yet, so one corner of my office is currently serving that purpose. Our looming upsize may solve that problem — but certainly not my daughter’s. I can only hope I use up most of this stuff before my time runs out. I collect frames and mats for art I haven’t assembled yet, knick-knacks for terrariums I haven’t created yet, maps from my travel agent days that helped me navigate the world, and souvenirs from all those journeys.

On a long-ago trip to Victoria, Vancouver Island, BC, I bought two small wood-mounted prints from a little gallery in the Historic Bastion Square Public Market. They still make me smile whenever I see them — which is infrequently since they hang on an office wall hidden behind my printer.

Lastly, since our beloved son passed away from cancer when he was 41, my daughter will also get to sort through his stuff, which I have been unable to part with.

I’m still young if you consider my mother’s longevity. Many yet-to-be- discovered treasures are calling my name and demanding I take them home with me. God help my daughter. She’s been told that if she doesn’t want something, she should not feel guilty about throwing it away or taking it to Goodwill. I won’t be around to complain.