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In 2019, I binge-watched the Netflix series "Tidying Up with Marie Kondo." Back then, I was going through a difficult time in my life: my husband and I were trying to conceive while also dealing with my parents' tempestuous divorce. After watching the episode "Making Room for a Baby," I desperately wanted to "clean up my life," both metaphorically and physically. And so, I set out to declutter our tiny 500-square-foot apartment in Sunnyside, Queens, to manifest a positive pregnancy test.
Instead of twiddling my fingers and wallowing in self-pity, I began to do the work until every nook and cranny was purged, cleaned, and organized. I even purchased various storage containers and new furniture to solve the embarrassing problem areas of our home.
When I finished, I relished my work. The labor of tossing out items that no longer "sparked joy" unironically did just that: sparked joy and gave me a renewed sense of hope for the future.
Five years later, my husband and I have a 2- and a 4-year-old, and we live in Asheville, North Carolina, a small mountain city that recently experienced a devastating blow from Hurricane Helene. To help our daughters better understand the scope of the damage, we drove through the decimated areas of town.
They saw with their own eyes how the Swannanoa and French Broad rivers wiped out numerous homes, businesses, and parks. As we surveyed the wreckage, we mourned the places that no longer existed, places that our family frequented and cherished.
By the end of our surveillance, our family had brainstormed ways to serve our community, like supporting local businesses and donating items we no longer used. The experience was simultaneously heartbreaking and heartwarming.
Since my daughters were most excited about the idea of going through their own things and passing them along to children in need, we got to work as soon as we returned home. One thing is for certain, though: getting rid of stuff is hard, and at first, my daughters had a difficult time emotionally with the task of decluttering. I recognized immediately that I needed to rely on a simple guide or principle to help my daughters understand the "how" and "why" behind our purging.
Enter the KonMari Method.
I explained the basic idea: We would go through each individual item one by one and ask ourselves if it sparked joy. If it didn't, it would go into the donation box. If it did, we would designate a home for the item in the room so that we would know where it lived during future clean-up sessions.
After a few practices, my oldest child really got the assignment, and her little sister quickly followed suit. When they found their groove, I decided to exit their bedroom, partially to give them space and so I could prepare dinner and resist the urge to interfere with their choices.
When I returned to check in, my daughters had gone through every single stuffed animal in the room and had filled one large garbage bag. I was stunned that my kids were able to complete the difficult task with very few tears.
Together, we thanked the stuffed animals that once sparked joy and told them it was their time to do the same for someone else — someone who could use a little more joy in their life after the storm.
As I carried out the bag of stuffies, I told my kids how proud I was and that they should be proud of themselves, too. They were able to let go of things that were once special to them to brighten someone else's day.
"How amazing is that?" I asked tearfully as I dropped to my knees and embraced my two little ones. I marveled at the beauty of these tiny human beings while also grieving all that our neighbors had lost.
Within seconds, my oldest enthusiastically shouted, "Let's keep going, Mom!"
Yes, I thought, let's keep going. Let's keep going despite the devastation. Let's keep going despite our grief and sorrow. Let's keep going because there is more to this world than our physical possessions. Let's keep going because we must — for one another's sake.
