Involuntary Decluttering
Marie Kondo is broadening her quest to declutter your life and help you find joy. If you’re not familiar with the name, google her. You’ll find a host of articles about her host of books (a list that seems to grow daily) describing a simple technique for getting rid of extraneous, unessential possessions, activities, etc., in order to appreciate and enjoy the things that really matter.
That might be an inaccurate, even unfair summary of Kondo’s work, but it’s what I’ve gotten out of it: jettison the junk, keep the valuable, live lightly and happily.
What we’ve experienced in March and April of 2020 is seemingly a forced march into that territory. Few of us would have given up many (any?) of our prized, tried and true habits, routines, rituals, and comfortable ways of working and living - if they hadn’t been ripped out from under us. (Think tablecloth pulled from a tabletop set with precious china, except without the clever, magical result.)
In the aftermath, which we will be experiencing until we accept it as the new normal, the involuntary decluttering might wind up having some benefits. Yes, I’m actually proposing we make lemonade out of all these freaking lemons. Hear me out, though. Some of the effects of the coronavirus might not be all bad.
Personally, March and April were a tsunami of unwanted and unrequested changes. I went from a deadline-intensive job working on the third floor of a downtown office building, to a less-deadline intensive job (projects quickly fell off as the pandemic and the accompanying fear rose), social distancing in the spare bedroom of our home, communicating solely by Skype, Zoom, MS Teams, et al. Three weeks into this strange, new stay-at-home experience, I was informed that the layoffs we had all been dreading and hoping to avoid had arrived. Suddenly, there I was in the spare bedroom, doing my part to flatten the curve, but minus the job, and the paycheck, as well as the sense of purpose that a job provides.
Hmm... What now?
What now, indeed. I did, of course, jump with frantic, banshee-like energy into a job search (which continues at this writing). I strategized. I planned. I worried. I talked to God. I talked to my wife. I talked to my parents. I talked to our dogs. I talked to friends, colleagues and, in some cases, complete strangers on LinkedIn and other social media channels, trying to figure out what to do.
Part of this frenzy was textbook grieving, something we are all experiencing and laboring through, clicking off the various stages and hoping our willingness to progress will keep us from moving backwards and having to repeat any of those horrible phases. But another part has been decidedly Kondo-ish.
The list of things I don’t miss about life BP (before pandemic) continues to grow. The commute, for instance, and the accompanying traffic jams. Same with spending 9 hours each day in a gray cubicle with no window. And now that I’ve been downsized, I will not miss the endless array of pointless meetings, putting together busy-work reports that have no lasting impact, the endless string of “must-win” projects, arbitrary, yet life-and-death deadlines with no clear reasoning behind them...
Though work is necessary in order to pay the bills, it can sometimes drain the life out of you, sap your passion, and cause you to forget what’s important.
Each day, after scanning Indeed and other job boards, writing cover letters for jobs that I’d really rather not land or am not that qualified for, and tweaking my resume and LinkedIn profile for the thousandth time, I spend time writing. Not posts for the corporate intranet. Not case studies. Not press releases or marketing materials. Real writing: fiction, poetry, freelance articles about subjects I’m actually interested in. I love that kind of writing.
I’ve also been doing a lot of art - pastels and acrylics. It not only passes the time and keeps me from despairing about our world, country, economy, and finances, it makes me happy. I love colors and shapes. Expressing myself visually on canvas and paper is uniquely satisfying.
Notice I used “love” a couple of times. I can’t manage to apply that word to work. I don’t and never have loved working in a corporate environment. You probably don’t either. We do it because we have to.
Imagine if we didn’t have to. In this AP (after pandemic) landscape, I’m finding myself doing that: imagining, thinking, wondering, dreaming... I’d almost forgotten how to do any of that.
If I get a call today regarding one of the multitude of positions I’ve applied for, I’ll respond enthusiastically, glad to be done with this short but intense period of jobless anxiety. Even if it isn’t the best position at the best company, I’ll leap at the chance to earn an income and stay current on our bills.
On the other hand, I’ll be a little sad that what I love to do and have been engaged in so heavily and happily in the past couple of weeks, will once again take a back seat to the almighty dollar. If and when I take up residence again in an oversized box covered in gray fabric, it will be with determination and yet a sense of loss. The transition won’t be easy.
No one knows how this will all shake out. But during this unique period in history, we have a great opportunity to follow Kondo’s advice: examine our lives, determine what gives us joy, toss out everything else.
Why not give it a shot? It’s better than binge watching Tiger King... again.