While other parents at the elementary school open house focused on educational philosophies and teacher qualifications, I found myself captivated by the storage bins. Sure, I cared about whether circle time occurred before or after free play and how that might impact my kids’ futures. But those meticulously arranged semi-transparent plastic containers filled with vibrant items, each labeled with a P-Touch sticker—Art Supplies, Blocks, Numbers—drew my attention. This place was bright and orderly. I thought to myself, This is the perfect school for my children.
Or perhaps it was the perfect school for me. I must admit, I am a naturally disorganized person. My desk resembles a chaotic skyline of clutter. As I write this, I glance at loose Post-it notes, old photographs, a lollipop, nail clippers, receipts, a solitary earring, and a 2013 calendar. The stacks of paper on my desk consist of writing project drafts, notes, and mail that still awaits my attention. To my left lies a rack filled with a jumble of return address stickers, medical bills, and outdated brochures. And behind me, a plastic bin overflows with documents I “need to file,” most of which will likely end up in the trash once I muster the courage to look at them.
My closet mirrors this disarray, with clothes piled atop each other and shoes blocking access to, you guessed it, shoe racks. Even our pantry is a mini adventure—a treasure hunt to find what you’re looking for. In the living room, unread magazines spill out from their basket, while the dinner table is cluttered with mail and sunglasses, leaving only a small section for meals. I often joke with my husband that I’m just one personal crisis away from being featured on a reality show about hoarders.
The clutter isn’t just a superficial issue; it seeps into my mind, making it hard to focus. There is always something I should be doing—sorting, organizing, cleaning—and the constant reminder of my mess distracts me. I can’t seem to find clarity when my surroundings are in disarray. I may manage to provide clean clothes and dinner each night, but it’s always a last-minute scramble. When visiting friends, I can’t help but envy their immaculate homes, which seem to radiate calmness and order.
My husband, who was once meticulous about every receipt, has compromised over time. When we first moved in together, he dedicated a Sunday to shredding piles of my old bills and papers. Now, he has carved out a neat space for himself, managing to keep our finances on track while averting his eyes from the chaos that surrounds us.
I’ve come to see myself as a pre-hoarder, a trait I inherited from my family. Both of my parents struggled with clutter, and I often found myself in environments where things were left unfinished. A home improvement project from my childhood—an attempt to repaint our apartment—reminds me of the chaotic environment during my parents’ divorce, reflecting the disorder within our lives.
Now, as a mother myself, I realize I don’t want my children to inherit this cluttered mindset. I want them to have the ability to declutter without hesitation, to easily find their toys without wading through a sea of disorganized items. I wish for them to experience the clarity that comes from an organized environment.
So, what can I do? It starts with taking action. Each day I aim to discard one item, reminding myself that these objects do not define my past or my identity. This process is challenging, as letting go often triggers emotions tied to memories. But I know that if I want my children to thrive in a space free of clutter, I have to change my relationship with my possessions.
Interestingly, I’ve sought help before, hiring professional organizers. The first, whom I’ll call Lisa, charged me nearly $200 just for an initial consultation, and while she shared her own life stories, I found little practical help. The second organizer, whom I’ll refer to as Rachel, seemed promising at first, but her quirky approach to decluttering fell flat for me. Ultimately, I realized that the issue at hand is deeply personal; it’s not just about the mess, but the emotional ties I have to my belongings.
I often turn to resources like CDC’s infertility statistics to understand the emotional aspects tied to home insemination and family planning. If you’re interested in exploring more about the journey of parenthood, you might find this post on couples’ fertility journeys insightful.
Every day is a new opportunity for growth. As I work towards a more organized life, I strive to create an environment where my children can flourish without the burden of clutter.
Summary
This post reflects on the struggles of a disorganized parent who grapples with clutter in her life while seeking to create a better environment for her children. Despite challenges and emotional ties to objects, she is determined to change her habits and embrace a more organized lifestyle.