Behind the Puddle

I’ve spent several of these chilly October days downsizing, clearing countertops, emptying shelves, and filling bags for another curb alert. Somewhere along the way, I found myself making a bin that I decided to call “Things That I Love, but Can’t Have Out.” These aren’t necessarily things I no longer want, things that have lost their meaning, or even things I don’t find beautiful. They’re things I genuinely enjoy, but I’ve discovered that I enjoy the quiet of the space around me even more.

For a long time, I tried to understand why I preferred cleared walls, empty tabletops, and countertops without decorative arrangements. I considered whether it was connected to overstimulation or something deeper about how I experienced my surroundings. But I’ve come to recognize something much simpler. I find peace in spaces that aren’t asking anything of me.

That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate beautiful things. Put me in HomeGoods or Target, and I can find plenty of things I love. I can imagine exactly where something might look wonderful in my home, only to bring it home and discover that the reality doesn’t feel anything like the picture I had in my mind. Sometimes I’ll spend hours rearranging things, trying to make that one purchase fit into a space I was perfectly content with before it arrived.

And when I finally remove it? Immediate relief.

Of course, that relief can come with guilt over the money spent, especially when I eventually give the item away. I know some people would sell those belongings, and that’s a perfectly reasonable choice for them. But for me, the time and energy required often outweigh what I might recover. Sometimes giving something away is the better decision for the person doing the giving.

I’ve also discovered that I can appreciate beautiful things without needing to surround myself with them. More often, I’m choosing everyday items that serve a purpose and happen to be beautiful, rather than adding decorative objects simply because I like them. My home doesn’t need to become a display of everything I find attractive.

And that brings me to something I’ve been thinking about throughout this Decluttering Decades journey.

Decluttering is as individual as the people living in the space.

There are countless methods for decluttering. Some encourage us to keep only what brings joy. Others focus on numbers, categories, designated spaces, or how often something gets used. These approaches can be helpful, particularly when we don’t know where to begin. But no single method can fully account for how different people experience their homes, their belongings, their physical abilities, or the demands of everyday life.

A collection of cherished photographs might bring one person tremendous comfort while leaving another feeling overwhelmed by visual activity. A fully stocked countertop might make cooking easier for one household, while a cleared surface might make the same task more manageable for someone else. Neither space is necessarily more organized, more meaningful, or more successful than the other.

Sometimes the answer isn’t another organizational system, a new storage container, or a better method for deciding what to keep. Sometimes it’s understanding what is already working in the space and why.

What makes the room easier to live in? What creates unnecessary work? What do we enjoy looking at, and what do we actually enjoy living with? What are we keeping because it serves us, and what are we keeping because we feel obligated to find a place for it?

Those questions may lead to very different answers for different people. They may even lead to different answers for the same person as circumstances, abilities, and priorities change.

Behind the Puddle has reminded me many times that there is value in simply noticing what works, without feeling the need to improve, decorate, or change it. I’m beginning to recognize that the same principle belongs inside my home.

I don’t need to fill an empty tabletop simply because there’s room for something beautiful. Someone else doesn’t need to clear theirs simply because I find an empty one peaceful.

The goal of decluttering shouldn’t be to make our homes fit a method. It should be to help our homes fit the people who live in them.

And sometimes, that begins by recognizing that what works for someone else doesn’t have to work for us.

I’m curious whether you’ve discovered something about your own home that goes against the usual decluttering advice. Something that works for you, even if it wouldn’t make sense to someone else.