Hi - I belong to an online discussion group that's part of Don Aslett's web site. Don Aslett started out founding a professional cleaning company. Then he started developing his own cleaning products and tools. Then he started writing books about dejunking and how to make housework less painful. His books are great. I am copying here something another member of the discussion group wrote about her journey through dejunking. It's long, but she makes a lotof interesting points and it's nice because its personal - Brenda

 

 

Date: Thurs, Feb 28 2008 9:20 pm
Don,

If you are bored and want something to read (small chance of that for a person with a 48-hour day) here are my ravings on dejunking:

I first read one of your books (I think it was Clutter's Last Stand)

in Virginia Beach in 1998. You changed my life through that book, and

I have been dejunking ever since. Thank you.

My family members, co-workers and friends have all heard my sermons on

the gospel of dejunking since then. Your books have been purchased,

hoarded, dog-eared, requested, gifted, loaned, and stolen across the

land. People love them.

A friend of mine who has gone through a series of personal tragedies

that I can only compare to Job's has found inspiration in your books,

and has begun to reap the benefits of decluttering. And her mother

and uncle, who died recently, were also inspired by your books and had

begun the dejunking process before they left this earth, too.

In the last several years, as my husband and I have moved several

times, we have dejunked our many homes, leaving a swath of castoffs in

various thrift shops, homeless shelters, and friends' homes across the

U.S.

Your concepts have been the topics of many discussions and dejunking

marathons, and my mom has even developed the term "Asletizing" as a

synonym for dejunking. (or have you heard that before?)

Isn't it amazing what resistance and criticism one sometimes receives

regarding dejunking? "You're getting rid of too much. You might need

that. You dejunk too much. That's expensive."

Perhaps I have become a stronger person as a result, resisting my

critics, doing what I know is right for me, and coming to such as

epiphanes as the concept that I might actually think my parents are

mistaken in some areas (for example, not wanting me to get rid of an

item that I don't want "if it was made in Germany, because it might be

valuable.")

I was so excited when I first read your book, that I actually had

"permission" to get rid of things. Out went the high school

graduation dress (I was 28 and had not worn it for years. Mom had

sewn it, and this brought false guilt, but out it went), the empty

giant three-flavor popcorn tin, and childhood stuffed animals. The

thread collection was pared down to colors that I actually planned on

using in the future. What an exhiliarting feeling!

I like the concept of knowing that others are benefitting from my

castoffs. What is not being used by me, and what I therefore dejunk,

may be perfect for someone else! I consider the fact that I have been

blessed by people's castoffs (for example, I have my beautiful Irish

linen tablecloths, my Depression era armoire, my Uggs, and my glass

teapot because other people dejunked them!)

Even so, I still struggle with guilt over getting rid of things. (A

pair of pink ceramic birds, given to me when I was a child by my

(now)deceased grandma, with human faces so freaky they look like they

could have starred in "The Outer Limits" look at me mournfully, as if

to say "how could you get rid of US?")

I try to tell myself "it's never wrong to err on the side of giving"

when I am evaluating whether or not to dejunk something, but I still

struggle. Recently I gave away two pair of winter boots to friends in

Maine, thinking we were moving to the southwest. We ended up in the

west, and there's snow on the ground. I had a twinge of regret, but I

pushed it away, picturing my friends wearing the boots. (Plus, I still

have a few pairs I did not get rid of!)

Funny how we struggle with negative feelings about getting rid of things "we might need

someday." Really, what's the great loss, what's the big deal, even if

we do need it someday, if someone else is benefitting? I guess it's a

real form of selfishness to try and hold onto everything for "me."

Kind of a grown-up extension of not wanting to share toys as a child.

Now we are in the process of unloading a horrid 20 foot storage unit,

and I am discouraged by the amount of stuff in there, and am inspired

yet again to dejunk.

I have, through my shopping addiction (trolling Goodwill, TJ Maxx, and

the LLBean employee store) gotten re-junked! What a tragedy. And,

since getting married, I find it much harder sometimes because if

things are jointly owned, I want to get my husband's "okay" first.

Sometimes he doesn't want to get rid of things. (But overall, he's

great at dejunking).

The good news: I am in the sometimes painful, yet always liberating,

process of applying your dejunking principles to how I spend my time,

Don. Thank you so much for that. Through these principles I have

realized that just as I have chosen to dejunk things, I can actually

choose to dejunk hobbies and activities. (It seems like a basic

concept, but I didn't get it for a long time).

For most of my life I have not had much money. In childhood and

beyond, I was indoctrinated in the religion of frugality. This

sometimes led to an do-it-yourself attitude. For example, I did

not buy the expensive dress. I could sew it! I even plotted a way

to make my own face powder out of mica (my husband stopped me from

doing this.) Same thing with the natural soap and body care products,

candles, Christmas fruitcake, and even the house, for crying out loud.

I could do it all! This would save money.

In reality, I was miserable. If I wanted to do these things, none of them are wrong in

and of themselves. But I did NOT enjoy it, and the piles of

unfinished projects surrounded me, and I felt I was just not working

hard enough, and that was why I wasn't getting everything done. (News

flash: even working at top speed, no human being can "do it all!" I

think there's only one person who can, and even He gave himself a day

of rest).

One night I was driving home (from shopping) with my husband and I

started lamenting about my armoire full of fabrics, sheets, and

Goodwill clothing items that were supposed to be sewn into various

pillowcases, pyramid cat beds, garments, duvets, napkins, sachets,

etc.

"I hate them!" I screamed as we drove down the dark road.

"Get rid of them," my husband said calmly.

"I can't!" I cried.

"Yes, you can. Throw them away. I'll help you."

Arriving at home, I dumped all the fabrics and notions onto the dining

room table. "Get rid of it all," he said. "I can't!" I said. I

proceeded to take an exorbitantly long time (I am obsessive-

compulsive) to get rid of half or so of the pile. Over the next

months I got rid of almost all of it, finally ending the project by

leaving a sack full of ripped sheets (no, I will not attempt to make a

pillow sham out of the ripped linen one) on the road with a sign:

"Free Rags." (Here's to the frugality of the citizens of Maine: the

bag was gone within the hour).

Since then, I have had an internal dialogue with myself, telling

myself "you hate sewing. What is the last thing you sewed that you

actually liked?" An unflattering photo of me in an empire-waist top

with the stiff calico fabric tenting out over my stomach comes to

mind. I have actually decided that "I do not like sewing, and that's

okay" is my creed.

Along with the sewing shackles, I cast away: soap making supplies

(keeping the memory of my faithful husband stirring several gloppy

bowls of handmade soap, each scented with a different blend of

essential oils), candle making supplies (trying not to remember the

sacks of blackened bits of candle wax I was saving to remelt and

recycle), my printmaking supplies, my homemade body care book (I'll

give my business to Burt's Bees instead), and the abominable scrapbooking

supplies.

Why did I get rid of all those hobbies? I hate them. I hate having

countless unfinished projects over my head. I love having a

simplified schedule.

My coin collection from childhood is almost all dejunked. $2 bills

that were not worth more than their face value were used to purchase

coffee to keep me awake/alive on our 8-day cross country voyage. And

my Iraqui coin was sold on eBay for $52! However, my Dad did not

approve of my letting go of the collection. The stamp collection is

on its way out, too (save for a few that bring back pleasant memories,

that I may display in frames).

Part of my problem is taking too much time to make decisions on

getting rid of stuff. What a tragedy, since life is more important

than poring over these decisions, and at 38 I realize it has been

passing me by. No more!

My husband and I are in the process of selling a house that epitomizes

cluttering up one's life: a 1913 Cape that needs everything done to

it. Our five years in it were fraught with stressful discord over

leaking roofs, painting, repairs, money, etc. We hope to find a house

that is more well-kept and less "cluttery" in terms of needing

repairs.

Why do I need a simplified schedule? To do what's important. And

what is that? Loving God and people. Doing what God has put me here

to do. It has taken me into my 30's to figure out that what I loved

doing as a child is what I must do now, and that is write childrens'

books. So that's what my schedule needs to be cleared for. I have

still not mastered the control of my personal discipline to get this

done, but I must. So I will continue to dejunk my life. I am trying

to apply the 80/20 rule, which I love.

Thank you Don, for all your books and for giving them to the world.

You have made a real difference in my life and the lives of many.

Now I'm going to go dejunk. Maybe we'll see you since we are in your

general "neck of the woods" now. If we do, I'll say hello. My

husband said "you're going to have to thank him."

E.M.