My house feels different now.
I can open the closet without holding my breath. The garage has floor space I forgot existed. I gave away more than I ever thought I would, and I don’t miss any of it.
But getting here wasn’t the clean, satisfying process I expected it to be.
I spent two months ruthlessly purging my home. Room by room, closet by closet, drawer by drawer. And almost none of it went the way the articles and YouTube videos said it would.
Nobody told me I’d end up sitting on the floor of my spare bedroom crying over a box of things from my mother’s house.
Nobody mentioned that my husband and I would have three separate arguments about a set of golf clubs he hasn’t touched since 2016.
And not a single blog post warned me that the hardest part wouldn’t be deciding what to get rid of. It would be figuring out where it all goes after you’ve made the decision.
I’m not writing this as someone with a method or a system. I’m writing it as someone who just came out the other side of a full house purge and wants to be honest about what it actually looked like.
Because it didn’t look like a before-and-after photo.
It looked like a mess. For a while, it felt like one too.
But I’d do it again. Every uncomfortable minute of it.
Here’s why.