I’ve been decluttering for years.

I started with the Marie Kondo method, asking myself if things “sparked joy.” That approach worked well at first — especially with clothes — and I made a lot of progress. But eventually, I hit a wall. When I reached my child’s toys, everything sparked joy. I couldn’t keep going, and I stalled there for years.

When I returned to decluttering later, it wasn’t out of calm intention — it was born out of pain, anger, and rage. That energy helped me move a large volume of things out quickly, and for the first time, I saw real relief. But emotions are fickle. When the rage faded, I stalled again.

Now, I’m in a different phase.

I declutter slowly and intentionally, from a level head and steadier emotions. The emotional waves are smaller now — but they’re not silent.

This weekend, I donated toys my child was genuinely okay with letting go of. Still, the entire time, I had to remind myself that she chose what to keep and what to release. There was no practical reason to hold onto toys that would only collect dust — and yet, that logic didn’t erase the pain.

I’m finally past the “low-hanging fruit” of decluttering and entering the territory I’ve always dreaded most: sentimental items.

So how do we let go when it’s hard?

For me, it came down to breathing, acceptance, and remembering my why.

I noticed I was holding my breath a lot this weekend — trying to silence the “what if” thoughts, trying to push through. But holding my breath only made it harder to see clearly where this long journey has brought me.

Decluttering isn’t something you do once and then never think about again. Like most things in life, it requires maintenance. And there I was, holding a bag of toys, almost refusing to let them go.

Even after I donated them, I drove home feeling guilt. Feeling sad.

I’ve heard the phrase “we grow through what we go through,” and sitting in my car, I realized something quietly profound:
Past versions of me would have caved. I would have put the toys into a storage container in the garage to “deal with later.”

But all the small changes I’ve made over the years — how I sit with discomfort, how I allow grief, how I soften instead of avoid — had begun to snowball. For the first time, I could actually see the growth.

Not because it felt good.
But because I didn’t abandon myself in the discomfort.

Acceptance

We all know, intellectually, that we change. Our bodies age. Our opinions shift. Our priorities evolve. But the change is so subtle, we rarely notice it as it’s happening.

Acceptance is realizing that when we live from a place of growth, we eventually outgrow ourselves.

And when that happens, we’re often asked to let go of the items that once held us — so we can meet ourselves where we are now.

It isn’t easy. But nothing meaningful ever is.

Remembering My Why

When I first began decluttering, I was drowning in stuff with a small child. I was burnt out, overwhelmed, and desperate to have less.

When I returned to it years later, I was trying to regain a sense of control while my life felt like it was spiraling. I had to let go of baby clothes I was holding onto to soften the pain — to make room to grieve a life I wasn’t going to have.

And now, I declutter because somewhere along this journey, I’ve learned something essential:
We are not the stuff we bring into our homes.
We are not the items we buy or the objects we keep.

Every item we hold onto asks something of us — space, care, attention. And the more we carry, the more we must maintain.

My “why” doesn’t have to look like yours. But if you’re on a decluttering journey and find yourself stuck on the things that hurt to let go of, it’s worth asking:

Is this item worth the energy it requires me to keep it?

I wish more peace for all of us — in our homes, in our hearts, and in the quiet moments when we’re learning how to let go.

A Gentle Reminder from the Bhagavad Gita

“In this path, no effort is ever lost and no harm is ever done.

Even a little practice of this way protects one from great fear.”
— Bhagavad Gita 2.40

Every step you’ve taken — even the ones that felt hesitant, emotional, or unfinished — matters. Nothing you’ve done on this path of letting go has been wasted. Growth doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like breathing through discomfort and choosing not to turn back.

A Gentle Invitation

If decluttering brings up guilt, grief, or hesitation for you, you’re not alone. I created a gentle guide to help you reflect before you release — so you can let go without forcing yourself forward. As the Bhagavad Gita reminds us, no effort on this path is ever in vain.