Decluttering Your Home, Heart, and Mind - What’s Truly Worth Keeping?

Image by Wolfgang Eckert from Pixabay

As I stand in the middle of our living room, surrounded by piles of books, clothes, and long-forgotten trinkets, with boxes half-filled, a growing donate pile —I hesitate. In theory, downsizing should be simple: keep what serves us, let go of what doesn’t. But in practice? Every object holds a memory, a whisper of the past, a “what if” for the future.

To make the process easier, we agreed on some guiding principles:

• No double-ups.
• Has it been used in the last two years?
• Does it bring joy?
• Am I hanging on to the past?
• Keep rarely used items if they're high-quality, difficult to replace, and align with realistic future needs and passions.
• Books/CDs/DVDs/games/collections/ornaments/LEGO/art—keep only what we love or need.

All with one overarching goal: Let go of what no longer serves us so we have space to grow into our future.

It sounds great in theory. But when faced with a beloved book, an old love letter, or a childhood collection, how do we really decide what’s worth keeping?It’s confronting. We have to let go of the people we were in order to make space to embrace the people we are and are becoming. But what from our past is actually healthy to hold onto? And why?

Take the kids’ LEGO collection. Dozens of sets and free-building pieces galore. They haven’t really touched it in the last two and a half years. I’m thinking we should choose a few pieces particularly special to them and sell the rest. But they don’t want to let it go. The same is happening with various other collections of things.

I get it. I do. I feel the same way about books. There are books I’ve read and enjoyed, but then there are books that spoke to me on a soul level. The Chronicles of Narnia is one of those—stories that hold visceral memories, that shaped something inside me. I also really loved reading Percy Jackson with the kids, but it didn’t stir my soul the way C.S. Lewis did. So I’m thinking—maybe I don’t need reams of fiction. Maybe I just want the odd few books that truly matter.

Non-fiction is different. Books like Gabor Maté’s Scattered Minds are well-thumbed and revisited. And there’s something inherently valuable about books—they need no other instrument than the mind to unlock them. If, in some dystopian future, society is dumbed down at the flick of a switch, I’d be glad of my books.

Sorting through the clutter in our home, I realised how much emotional baggage we carry too. I came across a bundle of old love letters—reminders of different versions of myself, different chapters of my life. Years ago, after a painful separation, they reassured me that I had been loved, that I deserved better than what I had been settling for. But now? I don’t need all of them—just one from each person as a keepsake perhaps, a thread in the tapestry of my past.

The things we keep “just in case” aren’t just physical. We carry old wounds, regrets, and attachments long after they’ve served their purpose.

But keeping something “just in case” or out of guilt is different from keeping something because it enriches our lives now. The same applies to the emotions and behavioural patterns we hold onto—are they still serving us, or are they just taking up space?

So much energy goes into keeping parts of our past hidden away, untouched. Whether it’s an old belief, an old hurt, or an old object, letting go frees up space—physically, emotionally, mentally.

It’s no coincidence, I’m sure, that right now the Sun is conjunct Chiron in my chart—a transit that shines a light on old wounds, offering the chance to heal. This whole process feels like an invitation to look at what I’m still carrying and ask:

Do I still need this? What am I keeping because it still serves me? What am I letting go of so I can grow into my future? That’s the real question.

It was opportune, then, that one of my favourite authors, Belinda Alexandra, shared a piece in her Intentionalist newsletter this week about decluttering our past—both physically and emotionally. She described emotional baggage much like overpacking for a trip:

"Just as overpacking for holidays is often due to anxiety and fear of the unknown, so is the emotional baggage many of us haul through our lives: Everything from a chip on the shoulder and resentment to unhealed trauma and unresolved grief."

She then posed some powerful questions to help identify what we’re still carrying unnecessarily:

1. What emotional weight have you been carrying for some time but don’t know how to let go of?
2. How is this baggage affecting you today? Is it stopping you from fully living?
3. If this baggage were suddenly taken away—lost in transit, never to return—would you feel relief?

These resonated deeply. Just as I’ve asked myself whether I truly need to keep certain books or keepsakes, I’m now asking: what other emotional “stuff” am I holding onto? And why?

Belinda and Kelly Morton  also shared some great strategies for letting go:

• Have a meeting with your brain. Write down what your mind keeps bringing up from the past, acknowledge it, and then decide how you’ll respond differently in the future.
• Walk alongside your grief. Instead of feeling you must either move on or mourn, allow both to exist. You can honour the past while embracing what’s ahead.
• Get fully into the present. The best way to let go of baggage is to make the present so fulfilling that the past no longer weighs you down.

I love this practical approach. It aligns so well with what I’m experiencing as I physically declutter—letting go of the old to create space for the new.

So, what am I still holding onto?

Physically, for years, I’ve kept my old wedding dress—the one that was lovingly made for me in the exact style and fabric I’d dreamed of. Alongside it, ball gowns I’d searched for and worn to events that once felt so significant. I’ve also held onto medals from my swimming days and awards for leadership in customer experience transformation. Proof of achievements, of effort, of moments when I felt seen.

But I’ve realised it’s not just the physical things that weigh me down—it’s the emotional and behavioural patterns too.

One of the hardest things for me to let go of is the need to argue my point. Growing up, explaining the “why” was often necessary and got me results; it was a safety pattern, a way to be heard. But as I wrote last week, some arguments are one-sided. If the other person refuses to see beyond their own beliefs, it’s like talking to a wall. No matter how much logic or truth you present, they will twist, deflect, or dismiss—not because you’re wrong, but because they’re unwilling to see another side.

And so, just as I’m sorting through what physical items still serve me, I’m doing the same internally. Some things are worth keeping. Others, it’s time to let go.

Because in the end, decluttering isn’t just about creating physical space—it’s about freeing ourselves to step fully into who we’re becoming.

So, what about you? What are you still holding onto—physically, emotionally, or even in the stories you tell yourself? And what might shift if you finally let it go?

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​If you enjoyed this post, you might also like From Endings to Beginnings: Let Go to Embrace New Possibilities, How to Let Go of Your Attachment to Your Feelings, Expectations and Beliefs and Is It Time to Let Go of the Idea That You Are Needed? Embrace Being Wanted.