In Part One The Inner Work of Decluttering, I reflected on why letting go can feel so hard. Our belongings often hold memory, identity, and loss, and approaching decluttering without compassion can lead to shame and overwhelm. When we slow down and honour our emotional process, letting go becomes inner work rather than a painful task. Decluttering and minimalism are often presented as practical, even cheerful tasks — but for many of us, our belongings carry memory, identity, grief, creativity, and love.

Making Space for Joy: Living with Meaning and Enough

You might want to read Part One if you haven’t. Once you have reflected on your values and identified which items support your identity, you may begin to notice that some gifts from long ago no longer suit who you are today. It’s okay to let them go. And it’s also okay to keep them if they still hold meaning, especially when they help you remember the giver.

I lost my father when I was six. He left behind artwork, wooden boats he made, rope work, letters, and original comic strips he drew. I kept them all. I kept his captain’s epaulettes and many small, seemingly insignificant items. I gathered everything into a small treasure box that now sits in a well-lit attic, where I can visit it whenever I choose. My children know it belongs to him, and they know they may do whatever they wish with it when I am gone.

My road to less — and I am not a minimalist — was long, and I am grateful no one rushed me. I took my time. It was cathartic and sacred. I now have everything I need, and it reflects who I am.

One realisation that helped me greatly was understanding that I am not the same person I was as a child, teenager, or young adult. I can still love who I was, but my values and purpose have changed dramatically. I began keeping only what supports and enhances who I am now, or who I want to become.

I honour my creative nature. When I go for walks, I collect natural objects — shells, feathers, leaves — but I keep them for a season or a year. I also collect recycling which I use in my art. Creatives need space, time, and freedom for spontaneous projects. A completely bare cupboard can feel just as restrictive as clutter. It’s a bit like cooking: one keeps basic ingredients on hand to make a meal.

At the same time, when I packed up to move overseas, I took only the tools and materials that supported hobbies I truly intended to continue. I also came to understand that I want to live with an abundant mindset rather than a scarcity mindset.

For example, if you give away a papermaking frame believing you’ll never use it again — as I once did — and later realise you still want one, you may find another at a charity shop. It’s not good to waste, but it’s also not always good to cling. There is a balance.

Scarcity vs Abundance

I grew up with a scarcity mentality. My father died young, and my mother had also lost her father early in life. Scarcity was the only way she knew how to live. I have spent years unlearning that belief. I still don’t believe in waste, but I do believe in abundance — in the idea that resources are available if we remain open and attentive.

This scarcity mentality definitely contributed to my reluctance to let go. Yet I now experience great joy in having passed art supplies and equipment on to friends and family, and in seeing them create with those tools.

We should respect one another’s unique strengths and struggles by honouring each other’s processes. We can never truly understand another person’s journey unless we stand in their shoes.

Some Practical Thoughts

Practical advice that can be helpful. Consider simple systems such as boxes labelled:

• Throw out
• Charity
• Keep for a clearer decision

And then returning what you are keeping to its designated place.

Most importantly: be gentle with yourself. Don’t overwhelm yourself.

I had to begin with my studio in South Africa. It was the size of a double garage — and then some. I had multiple workstations that could quickly descend into chaos. Sometimes it looked as though a tornado had passed through. I would walk in, attempt to sort, and then walk straight out, panicked and close to hyperventilating.

Eventually, I learned to sit on the steps outside and ask myself:
What can I tackle today?
Small steps. Turtle steps.

I would:

• Pick up obvious trash
• Put a few things back where they belonged
• Sort one drawer, cupboard, or corner at a time
• Set a timer for ten minutes (or whatever felt manageable)
• Choose one afternoon a week

Some people benefit from having a trusted companion — someone who can listen, provide perspective, and honour your sense of loss. Choose this person wisely.

When I give myself permission to work in small sections or for short periods, the pressure lifts. Joy quietly enters the process. I begin to appreciate the tools I own and the gifts I’ve been given.

If you recognise that you may have a genuine hoarding tendency, it might be wise to work with a therapist who can help uncover what lies beneath the surface. Don’t be afraid. This is simply about meeting your shadow — and finding the key.

Joy does not come from having less — it comes from living in alignment with who we truly are.

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A short reflection

If this reflection resonates with you, I invite you to pause and notice what is asking for your attention — not what needs to be thrown out, but what needs to be understood. Decluttering is not a race. It is a conversation between you, your past, and who you are becoming. Be gentle with yourself as you listen.

Happy Reflecting