I'm a serial declutter, and as such can tell you -- you really can't get organized until you get rid of stuff. In my case, a lot of stuff. It is not lost on me that I have come to this obvious truth at this stage of my life and of my recovery. Truth:
To get clear, you can't just push the boxes around and keep buying storage containers and moving them to another room of the house. You're going to have to open the boxes and deal with the contents now and forever, or they're just going to keep sitting there, taking up space, and you're gonna have that heaviness every time you walk past them.
My mind is still catching up to the feedback and events that have happened since I published a few essays directly referencing recovery (here and here). Writing publicly about this has been an entire reset, and a lovely one, because it's an integration of my exterior and interior worlds. However, most of my recovery work is done behind closed doors, and so it will remain. But it does spill over into everything else, as anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of recovery will understand.
That's because this path is about learning how to live a better life, how to integrate all of the pieces of oneself, the light and the dark, without succumbing to ego and fear. Luckily I have people to check me on that. A lot.
And life, life does go on. The past few weeks I've continued doing all of the other things I do other than grappling with life's biggest questions (ha). My work, my physical therapy, my mothering, all of that. I've prepared for new carpet to be installed by cleaning out closet after closet of our upstairs -- bedroom, office, two more rooms to go.
Some boxes I open and purge, getting rid of 12 year old phone bills and brochures from some long-ago trip. Other ones, the ones filled with journals and photographs, I just tape up, and move, until I'm able to look in there, till I have energy to look. I remind myself to tread lightly, and not to throw out my back in some stupid act of bravado in picking up a box I can't lift, or reading an old journal.
A wise friend has told me that there will be time to open all of the boxes. It all doesn't happen today.
One day it will. All of it. In time.