This post was originally written for subscribers of the daily taryn, a daily email newsletter/writing project . Now's the perfect time to join, so I'll hold while you do so. Love u.
I donated everything I own.
Juuuuust kidding. I wish though — I'd love to be one of those "give everything away because possessions mean nothing and the joy of giving is greater than anything you've felt through buying something" type of people but I truly, deeply am not. I love things.
I own so much stupid shit. Like, truly. I bought a mini-skateboard because Zac Efron was somehow tied to the company. I have the DUMBEST trinket from Shark Tank, that you stand on and twist and then you get abs, clearly. I have rollerblades that you strap on to your shoes.... for... all the times I'm going to go rollerblading. Duh.
I also keep so much stuff. T-shirts from high school. Letters from exes. Books I've never read but should definitely read and bought them to force myself to read them but we all know I will not read them.
I buy stuff. I keep stuff. So yes, I have a lot of stuff. But I'd never want you to know that. I've written about this before, actually — how I keep my room pretty tidy, so if you walked in you'd think, "wow, she's clean!" But do. not. open. a. drawer. It's chaos. Madness. Every drawer is stuffed with stupid purchases and weird keepsakes. Every drawer is a junk drawer.
That was Taryn pre-Friday. Now I'm Monday Taryn, and Monday Taryn spent her whole weekend cleaning like my life depended on it. I couldn't stand the mess anymore. I couldn't stand the double-little life I was running — clean on the outside, chaos on the inside. It was exhausting and felt sneaky and like I was tricking people around me.
(Obviously, this a metaphor for life and how most of us want it to look like we have it together but there is actually so fucking much happening beneath the surface, and instead of dealing with the shit, we shove it behind the books and under the other stuff and hide every little baby string that might pop out and make us look messy or out of line in any way.)
So. I was over it. My friend/angel Jenn (who loves to clean) came over EVERY DAY this weekend to help me purge, and it was pure magic, and it ended in donating 10 trash bags full of stuff that I really, really don't need. It felt and feels amazing — I've been smiling like a kid in my bedroom. It doesn't look too much different on the outside, but there's the deepest sense of joy knowing that if my roommates walked in and opened a drawer, no one would cringe. It's lit in there. Everything has its place. The calm on the outside matches the calm on the inside. It feels so good to know that.
Moral of the story: Don't be scared of the junk drawer — we all have one. Or two. Or ten. Don't try to hide it. See it for what it is — stuff that's better confronted than pushed aside. Stuff that deserves to see the light of day. Stuff that should be worked through with someone you love. Stuff that shouldn't make you insecure, but should motivate you to change and do better. It's just stuff. Look at it, thank it, and let it go.
Hi. I can't believe you read this — it actually means the world to me. Now that you're on a roll of making me happy, I'd like to give you 2 options to keep the fun going. 1) If you'd share this with someone or a feed of someones, or 2) you joined my newsletter. If that's not your thing, I'll love you regardless, but I'll do some middle school love letter journaling about you if you do either. Head here to join my list of gorgeous subscribers.