Anger and Good Will

A grand and glorious day of getting rid of stuff today.  First, a trip to the good will, delivering two bags and a box.  More stuff OUT of the house.  Next, a stop at UPS, who will take styrofoam peanuts and styrofoam packing material, for all of us enthusiastic greenies.  Finally, a stop at the library, to drop a bunch of books with  post-its marked "donation" into the drop box while the kiddo sleeps in the back seat.  Sweet daughter got an outing, Momma got rid of lots of junk that's been hanging around the house.

The thing that has piqued my interest lately is the feelings that happen when I work on decluttering and when I finally free myself of the stuff.

For as long as I can remember, I've had to be really truly angry to get any honest-to-goodness cleaning done.  In fact, if I start to clean and I'm not angry, I'll likely get angry by the time I'm done.  This is really not an ideal frame of mind for a year-long project.  So why?  Why do I have to get angry to get rid of anything, and why in turn does even the slightest act of dusting turn me into the crankiest kind of cranky-pants?

I'm not sure how to answer this question.  I won't lie:  anger is productive when it comes to cleaning.  If I'm really good and pissed about something, my sentimentality is likely to lie dormant, making it a fantastic time to pitch things.  But where's that anger when I need to go through the mail and not save the latest from the Arbor Day Foundation?  I always happily put that newsletter into a neat stack on the desk, only to be piled onto another neat stack, only to never be looked at again until it gets put in the "general office recycling" pile about 6 months to a year later... when I'm mad about something else and don't want to care about those ding-dang trees.  And what's that anger doing to my soul in the long-term?  Would it be possible for me to experience joy while also being an organized person? 

On the opposite end of the pendulum swing is the trip to the Good Will with the elated feeling that I will never again have to look at those tchatchkis.  That book I never read that was making me feel guilty.  Those Christmas tree ornaments that I never really liked that much.  Those moments feel good.  Great. Fantabulous.  So, what's in the middle between the angry cleaning and the elated trip to the good will?  I'm not sure yet.  But probably more cobwebs.

Suze Orman talks about trying to figure out your formative experiences with money to figure out how you deal with money as an adult.  She asks "what is your first memory of money?" and the response is really telling.  It makes me wonder what my first experience was with cleaning. 

Mostly I remember cleaning for company when I was a kid.  I was often asked to dust the day before or the day of the arrival of my dad's family for a family birthday party or other holiday.  (This was intentional on the part of my mother...as a child, she was rarely entrusted with more than one task and wanted to make sure her children felt trusted with responsibilities around the house.)  I often wondered why we only dusted for them, and why we couldn't just let them see the way we normally lived.  Were they judging us based on our dust?  Maybe, maybe not....but the message was never that we should keep things clean for ourselves, because that will make it feel good to live here.  It was always "clean up as an obligation....you want people to think you're clean." 

This is in no way blaming anybody....least of all my parents, who are responsible for lots of good things in my life.  Instead, it begs the question, how can I improve my life today?  How can I learn from those original perceptions and build on them?   How can I live more honestly--not putting on the mask of being clean and organized just for show, but actually living it, fully and abundantly?

Does this sound weird?  Is it going too deep for the sake of decluttering?  I don't know, but it's where I am.  And so I end another day, praying for peace, and for strength, insight, and wisdom to create serenity in my life.