There’s a closet in my bedroom I avoided for the better part of a year.
Every time I opened it, I told myself the same thing. Not today. When I have a whole free weekend. When I have more energy. When I can do it right.
So I’d shut the door and walk away.
The funny thing is, I’m not a lazy woman. Never have been. I raised a family and kept a clean house and rarely left a dish in the sink overnight (my mother trained that into me early). If anything, my problem was the opposite of lazy.
My problem was that I wanted it perfect. And if I couldn’t do the whole closet, sorted and folded and beautiful in one sitting, I didn’t want to start at all.
Weeks went by. Then months. The closet stayed exactly as messy as it was, and I felt worse about it every time I passed by.
It took me a long while to see what was really going on. I wasn’t putting it off because I didn’t care. I was stuck in something that has a name. They call it decluttering paralysis, and it happens to careful, capable women more than anyone would guess.
If you’ve ever stood in a doorway, looked at a job, and walked away because you couldn’t do it all the way, please stay with me.
You’re not lazy either. You might just be holding yourself to a standard that was never going to let you begin.
The Perfect Time Never Comes
For the longest time, I really believed the right moment was coming.
I’d get to that closet when the calendar cleared. When I had a full Saturday with nothing else on it. When I felt rested and in the mood and ready to do it properly, start to finish.
But that perfect day never actually showed up.
Some weekends I had the time but not the energy. Other days I had the energy, but the grandkids were coming, or there was a doctor’s appointment, or I just wanted to sit with my coffee and not work.