Though as I write these words winter is still heavy upon us, today I want to talk about spring cleaning. Despite the fact that it snowed yesterday, beautifully covering cars, trees, and grass— then rained, turning everything to slush—I want to think about warm weather. I want to think about opening windows to let fresh air and sunshine pour in. And I want to talk about the surprising things you find, when you’re cleaning for the first time in a while.

Like when I used to find twenty dollar bills neatly folded in my coat pockets. Hasn’t happened in more than a decade. But when I used to babysit, as a college student or teenager, it occurred more than a few times.

At the end of long nights of mac’n cheese dinners, cartoons, and trying to keep people’s kids in bed, I’d get paid in cash. Tired, I’d put the money in my coat pocket, go home, take off my coat, and go to bed. Then, if I didn’t wear my coat for a while, the money would stay there, deposited neatly in a forgotten nylon bank. Until spring cleaning, or I wore it again—and surprise! Forty dollars!

Finding a hidden stash of cash is always an unexpected yet joyful surprise. But it’s not the only treasure I have found in my cleaning pursuits. Though tedious, spring cleaning has more than once uncovered things I thought I’d lost, good things I’d forgotten, and even brought beloved memories to mind when digging through old photos and mementos. So much of what we hold on to, has a story.

For better or worse, experiences and memories have a way of wrapping themselves around inanimate objects. Often when cleaning, Tony will ask me if we can get rid of something, and my response is in the form of a story.

“That is the mug I got for being a part of that event.”

“We got that when we went on that trip.”

“My great aunt made it for me when I was little.”

The more detail and special people in my story, the less likely Tony knows I am going to give it up. That to ask me to part with something that holds so much emotion meaning—even if I haven’t seen or used it in years—is like asking me to give up whole memories. Or worse, give up a piece of myself.

But then, there are those things we hold onto, only we’re not sure why. To be fair, they most definitely have stories of their own—yet they’re not good ones. They are the things with stories where people we loved let us down. They are the things people gave to us, then left us. Saving them feels like holding onto the pain. While throwing them out, feels like letting go of the hope that they’ll come back.

Letting go is hard, even of the bad things.

Though I am not quite sure that it even compares to the feeling we get when we find both the unexpected and the painful. When we discover something we didn’t know we had, and it crushes us. When it changes our perspective of everything, including ourselves, and we’re not sure what’s right anymore.

About ten years ago, this happened to me. I was invited to do some spring cleaning in a way I had never done before. For this process I didn’t need a broom or vacuum. In fact, I didn’t need anything. Yet in all honesty, I was completely unprepared.

Rather than being in my apartment, this cleaning began in a room in a church. Chairs were set up in a circle like that of a support group. And one by one, those of us sitting around the circle were invited to tell our life stories. Not every little detail, but all the important stuff.

We were in a class to learn how to counsel others. Only we began with looking at our own lives. Because just as you can’t teach spring cleaning, until you’ve done it for yourself, you can’t lead people through their stories, until you have gone through your own.

When I finished telling my story, I thought I was done. We’d move on to the next person. Only the instructor invited my classmates to share what they had noticed. Like having someone come into your house and point out your dirty floors and messy closets, they started to say things I’d thought didn’t matter—or worse, didn’t know were there. Everything was out in the open.

Would I deal with it? Or stuff it back in the closet?

Click here for part two, and in the meantime:

When was the last time you did some spring cleaning?

When did you last think about your life story?

 

Would you like more from Melissaschlies.com delivered to your inbox?

If so, subscribe here.