There couldn’t be a better month than October. The synchronicity of my life and the podcasts at times would blow my mind but this! Wow! Bring it on! I’m looking forward to reclaiming my space. I should make you a video because words cannot describe.

While I was not focused on my home, my nutrition, my personal time (depression)…. I was being dumped on. Literally. Dumped on.
A few years ago I lived in the city with my kids and their step dad and my Mom. When the day came that my mother was ready to move out, she left 75% of her possessions, mostly furniture, in my house. Does this mean that I now own these items? Not in her mind. As she needs things, she asks for them back.
When my husband’s parents passed away, he brought the majority of their possessions into our house. He was heartbroken and grieving, I couldn’t bring myself to say no to him at the time.
We decided to build a new home outside the city. I was at the time, committing a large amount of my time to my business and made the decision to move to our new home with the clutter. Hindsight. 20/20.
At the same time that we were moving, my Dad was downsizing into a condo and going behind my back, dumping his clutter and memorabilia at my home and into the back of my vehicle. He even lied to my daughter to get her to take some items for him.
He brought a load of clutter from his sister’s half way across the country and left it at my home.
Everything that gets left here is deemed special by the people who leave it. As if somehow I am the caretaker of family heirlooms, curator of a family museum right here in my home.
So, this summer I decided that the china cabinet that belonged to my great grandmother was no longer serving a purpose. I took the cabinet outside and I burned it. As it went up in flames I thought, this is the end of the line.

This is so so good!!! I’m carrying around so much stuff that isn’t even mine!

I plan to be ruthless with my organizing however, I have stuff from the father of my kids. He was brain injured when our kids were little and lives in a care home close to us. He can’t keep his stuff with him so I have kept it for 18 years. Our kids don’t want most of his stuff and my heart hurts at the thought of letting any of it go. He’s still with us, it’s not like he is gone. This is my most painful place. He fought for his life and fought through rehab.
The thought of letting his belongings go creates the feeling of giving up which is the opposite of what we’ve been doing since his accident.