A personal case against hoarding (Part 1): Things

When I first started this blog, I talked about organizing my things and my social media involvement. Two years later, I feel as if I had gotten rid of one facet, only to create more — like a hydra of things on sale!

This is a very neat hydra. Photo by Tim Gouw.

I had trouble sleeping the night before: on one hand, I blame the noisy campaign sound trucks with their ugly rip-offs of pop songs (do they even pay for the intellectual property of the songs they mangle? I do not think so.); and on the other, the constant mulling over how I could organize my room so as I would have room to work out again.

See, my room has roughly the floor space of a studio in the not-so-upscale developments in the last decade; give or take 20 square meters. However, the layout of the space can really stand some improvement, and the stationary fixtures (closet, dresser), and uber heavy antiques (a marble-topped narra commode, and a narra chest) make furniture shifting near impossible. The remaining space is eaten up by all the things I have accumulated in the past five years.

I have done some organization in “phases” – or those times when I have exhausted the day’s to-do list – and I have already done a fair share of throwing things out; but it just feels like I have barely made a dent in the amount of stuff my room holds!

There are just so many things that they are now in layers – like, I can no longer access the aforementioned commode because of the pile of crates (unpacked things from when I moved out of Taguig last October) standing in front of it. I cannot even use that commode as my grandmother has long misplaced the ancient keys that open five out of six drawers.

There are just so many things that I find it hard to breathe at times, and, like last night, I found it hard to sleep.

This is a problem, and it needs to be solved. The solution must become a priority.

And so I am undertaking an active hand in cleaning stuff out. As of the day before, I have already sorted out a bunch of clothes for giving away to the junk collectors that pass by our street before the garbage truck comes along. I have also thrown out things that have snuck under my bed and have collected dust because I was unable to access them (yes, it is that bad). I have sorted out my old readings and manuals from my college and high school days (the smell of rotting paper x_x ugh), and preparing them for recycling.

If I had things my way, would throw out/give away 80% of the room’s contents; but as I mentioned before, that room is  simply one that I inherited from my grandmother, and so I am not out to throw her things out just yet. I admit to having an attachment to her vintage dresses and clothes, but I have – at least in my heart and mind – made peace with the facts that: (1) cloth rots; (2) there are far better sources of ~memories~ than a gazillion knick-knacks; and (2) I am not taking these to the grave with me, and neither is she. Basically, I have already disposed of them in my mind.

As it is, I am not the owner of all of the room’s contents, but I now vow to undertake the mission of clearing my room, even if it just means clearing out my own things – which is still a lot. If I can at least clear my own private space, then I would have a sanctuary in which I can peacefully sleep.

Besides, cleaning and organizing is therapeutic, I find.


This is part of a four-part blog series in which I revisit organizing my personal space, in the hopes that those who wish to undertake a similar journey might take away a thought or two.

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About Cielo

I am a paper-pusher by day, a log by night, an aspiring singer-dancer and a wannabe artist in-between. I am also a Professional Space Cadet.
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