Despite having this website with my picture all over it, and writing here in first person, and occasionally saying something about myself, I’d really rather just sit quietly in the back of the room and observe. And, most important, not be noticed.
But in my work as a therapist generally, and in the matter of hoarding and clutter management in particular, I cannot expect my clients to go where I have not gone or do what I would not do. So it is in that spirit that I share this story about by sock drawer. Yes, my sock drawer. (I will spare you discussion of other drawers and other garments. I promise.)
In 2015, while doing research on various methods of working with hoarding and clutter, I did what millions of other people were doing—I read Marie Kondo’s book The Life-changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing.
My initial response was something along the lines of, “Are you kidding me? Put everything I own in one big pile and sort it out?” As it turns out, she didn’t mean everything in one pile, but she did mean every item of one type in one pile. For example, all one’s clothes. Even that seemed unreasonable to me, however. Or at least too daunting. But I was determined to give her KonMarie Method a fair try, so I narrowed the scope of the task to something I thought I actually could accomplish. My sock drawer.
Yes, with a mixture of hope and skepticism, I sought joy in my sock drawer.
I did as she asked. I dumped all the socks into a pile. Some had been folded, some had been knotted together (a major mistake in the KonMari Method), and all were randomly gathered in the drawer. There were some singles. There were some frightening items that made me wonder what I was thinking when I bought them. There were a few well-worn pairs that made me smile. Some stayed, some went to other purposes.
For those that stayed, I followed the KonMarie Method of folding and saving space. I smoothed out each sock of each pair. I aligned them toe to toe. I folded most of them by thirds into a neat rectangle. The small ankle socks I folded in half. The bulkier knee socks I folded into quarters. I organized them in rows and by color.
When I finished, they stood side by side, all the same height, a stunning array of color and order. And yes, they brought me joy. I now knew what socks I had, exactly where they were, and I had kept what mattered most—those most useful and a few sentimental favorites.
Four years later, that drawer still brings me joy. I wear socks frequently, and I wash and return them to their proper home each time. The rows stand as they were when I first organized the drawer. The system works. What’s more, I sometimes open that drawer just for the sheer, soothing pleasure of looking at my well-organized socks and feeling that spark of joy.
And then a gentle question rises into my consciousness, “What if you offered your whole home the gift of beauty and order, peace and joy, that you gave to your sock drawer?”
What if.
More truth and light to come.
