Physician, Heal Thyself

Physician, Heal Thyself (Or at Least Dust the Bookshelves)

Physician, heal thyself? Well, let me tell you, I should probably take that advice too. Just because I declutter for a living doesn’t mean I’m immune to clutter myself. Far from it. In fact, my house recently staged a full-on rebellion—it exploded.

I’ve been super-busy lately (translation: my priorities went from “keep my home serene” to “oh look, another pile, maybe I’ll just close my eyes and walk past it”). The result? Chaos. Piles. Dust. And the occasional mystery object whose origin I could not explain under oath.

So today, I finally began the process of restoring order. I started small—one spot that would actually make me happy if it were tidy: the bookshelves in my living room.

Now, in theory, these shelves are a curated little oasis. Some books, yes, but also a few small treasures I like to look at. That’s the theory. In practice? Over time, “stuff” migrates there. It’s like my shelves are running a secret VIP Lounge for random objects: tape measures, receipts, rogue mugs, and that thing I swore I’d “deal with later.”

And let’s not even mention the dust. (Actually, let’s mention it. There was enough to knit a mouse a sweater.)

The truth is, I’m the worst for the old “I’ll just pop this here and sort it out later” move. Or worse, being ADD-driven, I’ll start one project, get distracted, and start another before finishing the first. Which is how you wind up with a half-sorted shelf, tools still out, and enough cold tea scattered around to host a very disappointing tea party.
Admitting it is the first step to recovery, right?

The Art of Domestic Chaos

Of course, the shelves aren’t the only culprits. You’ll see that my ironing board has become an art installation (modern, abstract, nominated for the Turner Prize). There’s a side table, radiating the energy of a teenager who insists, ‘I am helping.’

This chaos is, if I’m honest, a pretty accurate snapshot of what’s going on in my head. When I restore order, I feel more serene and actually enjoy my space more. The physical reflects the mental—and vice versa.

As I’ve gone through this process, I’ve found things I don’t really want anymore. Letting go isn’t always easy. Not because I want them, but because they’ve become like a comfy old sweater—familiar, washed out, and not actually needed. It’s easy for me to see other people’s “stuff” with clear eyes, but my own? That’s trickier.

A Moving Target

Restoring order isn’t a one-time deal—or at least not for me. Call me fickle, but I like to switch things up. Which is how the hallway shelves are now looking a little bald. (I’ve robbed Peter to pay Paul – and created another task. Don’t judge.)

But here’s the thing: that little corner of the living room now brings me joy. It gives me inspiration to tackle the other “I’ll just put this here to deal with later” zones.

Having a place to put things—and allowing myself to let go of the things I don’t actually want—takes me to my happy place. One shelf at a time.

Your Turn: The One-Shelf Showdown 

Pick one spot—just one. Bookshelf, table, counter, that “I’ll deal with it later” corner.

1. Snap a before pic (embrace the chaos).
2. Clear it, dust it, make it look happy again.
3. Snap the after pic (unleash the victory fanfare).

Scoring is simple:

• +10 points if you found something you forgot you owned.
• +20 if it made you laugh.
• Win if you marked off “I’ve been looking for that!” on your bingo card.
• Bonus round: automatic legend status if you uncovered a mystery item you *still* can’t identify.

One shelf, one win. That’s it. Game on!