About a year apparently, or that is how long it took to go from maximalist bordering on hoarding to a not quite minimalist, but definitely under control regular amount of stuff type person.

After a few years of chronic illness, and several more of untreated clinical depression the world decided to have a pandemic. What little life I had outside the house was shut down to zero, my carer duties became inescapable for even an hour, while my already minuscule ability for self care disappeared altogether. I got sicker, more insular, and eventually ended up under some pretty strict medical care. In a more normal period I probably would have been in hospital for quite a while, luckily I was quickly released to home care which enabled me to be ill and depressed at home and use all my remaining energy to care for two children with needs.

With a year or so of expensive medication, various infusions, interventions, and monitoring I managed to get back from deaths door to merely unwell. Zero energy and the depression still untreated I started slowly (very slowly) transforming the space around me. I knew that mentally I had to take back some small element of control over my life, and I choose the part of my life I had to look at every time I opened my eyes in the morning, my house.

I started out in incredibly small ways, a drawer of paperwork here, a pile of unwanted books there. Over the first few months I filled my bins (and sometimes the neighbors bins) every week. Donations where not an option at the time as most places were not taking them. Many car loads to the local tip wearing a mask and waiting in long queues happened during the first lockdown. Being trapped at home made it imperative to have clear spaces for the kids to do homeschooling and just live, and the more space I created the clearer my mind became about how I wanted to live.

Over that 12 months I probably sold/threw/donated over 50% of everything I owned (possibly more). I replaced many of my older appliances with new more efficient ones, and paired back my furniture to things I love.

I won’t pretend there isn’t more to get rid of, and there have bee a few stumbles and hurdles in the last six months. The death of my father obviously threw a pretty big spanner in the works. On top of shock there was also a whole extra house full of things that I was now responsible for, and it nearly pushed me to breaking point several times. Still struggling with my physical health, and completely ignoring my mental state, I added clearing another house to the must do list.

And that gets us to this year, my house is pretty much a pleasant organized place to be most of the time. The farm is still a disaster, but not a total disaster anymore. My mental health is a disaster, but not a total disaster, and my physical health? Well I haven’t passed out on a supermarket floor recently, so thats definitely an improvement.

So I’m applying the same method I used for the house, incrementally improving things. Throwing away things that aren’t working and finding things that do. The supervised gym sessions have helped me start, the routine has been slowly becoming habit, my fitness is improving slowly. My weight is going down, and my muscle is going up. And as my health improves and I start feeling better I’m craving more of it. Cutting out gluten is slowly having the desired effect of reducing stomach pain and other symptoms, and next month I will get tested for inflammatory markers to see if it’s all in head.

If I managed to completely transform my home, and how I lived in it in 12 months, I should be able to do the same for my body. Working out is definitely less difficult than sorting through paperwork and receipts. Maybe I’ll even learn to enjoy it?

And then who knows, maybe next year I’ll be able to take a look at my mental health?