Nothing bigger than a bread box! That was my guidance for Russ when we were building our house in Lake Lure. We were now living in the 1200 SF fishing cottage that we had purchased, planning to build a permanent residence “someday” in the future. That future happened quickly. We had moved from a 3600 SF house in Charlotte, putting most of our furniture in storage. To say the space was cramped is an understatement. So I made a rule: Nothing bigger than a bread box could come into our little abode until the big house was ready.
When we moved in, we were overwhelmed with joy at all the space we had to fill. More kitchen cabinets and closet space than we had ever dreamed of awaited our stuff. I’ve been filling those empty spaces ever since.
Much of what now fills those spaces is deferred decisions. Rather than see the question “Do I keep this or let it go?”, my default is almost always “I will use this someday.”
That default belief is grounded in my successful hoarding adventures. (I prefer to think of myself as a champion recycler.) When we replaced the Bimini top on my ski boat with a fancy new tower, we kept the old cover in storage. Even though it took up a lot of space, we thought maybe someday we will use it. That day did come, several years after on another new boat. Somehow, across boat brands, the old Bimini top fit on the new boat.
There was a period where I kept every box that came into our house. Between shipping gifts and pottery, I was sure to use it someday. With the advent of online shopping, the inflow of boxes quickly surpassed the outflow. When I finally cleaned that closet several years ago, we threw away over 100 boxes!
A couple of years before we bought Mystic Waters, we gave away several full sets of dishes that came with another house we had bought and sold. I had no place to store them – by then my home cabinets were more than full – and no idea of what was coming. I might have grumbled a bit when we started stocking the various kitchens at Mystic Waters with the new dishes I had to purchase. “If only I had kept them”, I thought.
I won’t bore you with ALL the stories of my hoarding payoffs and regrets, but trust me, there are more than I can count.
Lately, I’ve been doing some closet cleaning and finally making the keep/let it go decisions. It’s something that has caused me to confront my beliefs about what is worth keeping, and what I can let go.
Several loads have already gone to Goodwill and others. Over 20 jigsaw puzzles went to our local retirement home. A surprising number of things ended up in the trash. One of the core questions I’ve been asking myself as I move through the house is “Where does this item need to be in the world right now?"
This question helps me override the belief that I might use this thing someday. (I probably will.) The choice is sharpened by the deep need in our community. So many lost their homes and need to be resupplied. Getting these things in the hands of someone who can pass them to a new home that can really use it.
The invisible thing (my belief) is driving the visible action (what goes in the giveaway boxes).
All this cleaning out, coupled with hearing the podcast I mentioned in the last Coaching Digest where Andrew Huberman interviewed Dr. Ellen Langer, has me examining the beliefs that drive my actions.
Perhaps my favorite story in the Langer episode involved housekeepers in hotels. Always interested in mindset and the power of beliefs, Langer set out to see how changing perception (the invisible) could impact health (the visible.) She divided the housekeepers into two groups. The study group was told that their daily work activities comprised exercise that met the guidelines of an active lifestyle required to be healthy. The control group received no such information. After the research period, the study group improved on a number of tangible health markers, including weight loss, lower blood pressure, reduced body fat, reduced waist to hip ratio, and reduced body mass index.
These results happened without a change in activity; the change happened in their perception.
I have a non-beautiful houseplant that represents a change in perception that will never be send out of my house in the trash or a giveaway box.
In the timeframe when we were living in the big house in Charlotte, I had begun to experience burnout in sneaky ways. I put everyone and everything ahead of myself. I considered being super busy a badge of honor and being chronically tired a small price to pay. During one of our bank mergers, I met a team who had read the book The Artist Way. “Unusual choice for bankers”, I thought. I decided to give it a try. Working through the book showed me that these invisible beliefs such as “Everyone is more important than me.” And “I’m only worth anything if I’m busy,” had a visible consequence, and I was the one paying the price.
While I was in the process of uncovering these beliefs, we were in Home Depot one day and they had indoor ivy plants for sale. While Russ was off with the giant shopping cart buying fix it stuff, a plant called to me. I picked it up and carried through the store, looking for Russ and questioning why I thought I could keep a houseplant alive. To date, I had killed every living plant that crossed my doorstep. (But make no mistake, I was GOOD at dusting the fake plants.) As if it were preordained, I happened to run into one of the big wig bank executives while I had the plant in my hand. While he was mostly warm and friendly, he made a bit of a snide remark about the plant. I can’t remember what he said, but he indicated I was soft for having a plant. I laughed it off and walked away from the exchange with a choice. The approval junkie part of me wanted to put the plant back to show the guy who had already left the store and who I didn’t even work for what a tough girl I was.
Fortunately, another part of me woke up in that store, thanks to the prodding of the difficult questions posed in The Artist Way.
As if it happened yesterday, I remember quite clearly standing in the store aisle, committing to taking care of that plant as a symbol of choosing to take care of myself.
In the ensuing 25 plus years, every time I water that plant – which has sometimes suffered from my neglect – I remember that commitment. It reminds me that the invisible becomes visible, and if I don’t water the plant and care for myself, I will face real consequences.
When I chose to leave the bank, not a year after that encounter, letting go was very difficult for me. It felt like a huge loss; even as other doors were opening. It took me six months to make the decision, and I did everything I could in those months to prop open the doors so that I could return quickly if my new life didn’t work out.
Looking back now, I can see that it was my perception - my beliefs - that created the sense of loss. Once I turned my attention to the doors that were opening, I found solid ground to build my business on. Within a month of leaving my old job at the bank, I realized that I would never go back.
The freedom of letting go was palpable. I was able to keep my friends and lose the prison walls I had created in my mind.
Our beliefs can either free us or hold us back. So little of what we take to be fact is the only way to see something. We need prodding to see it differently, to rattle loose the stuckness and give ourselves space to change.
That houseplant still has a place of honor in my office. Yes, it needs tending. However, that fact that it’s still alive (and has grown very long) is a testament to the major shift I made all those years ago. I’m alive too!
Where are your perceptions pointing you to freedom? Where are your beliefs holding you like molasses, preventing you from seeing your choices?