Things we want. But kinda don't.

How the devil you know keeps you from exhaling at home.

If that email had just come in 30 seconds later, I would’ve been out the door, on my way to a cocktail, enjoying my weekend.

But no. I was summoned to my boss’s office where my boss’s boss was leaning against the window with his arms crossed and (hang on, this isn’t going where you think it is) a smile on his face.

Because Surprise! I was being promoted!

Which was nice. Because there was a cool title. And almost double the salary.

But it was also the worst possible news. Because this promotion meant that I would be working way more closely with the most ill-tempered, paranoid, definitely going to throw mama from the train, screaming at people in public kind of man I’d ever worked with.

The only other woman in my department who worked that closely with him was regularly locking herself in a bathroom stall, doing what every woman does when she needs to rage at the macho man clown logic raining down on her from the corner office.

Crying, of course. I’m talking about crying.

And this is how I found myself on a Friday afternoon wondering how I got myself into this situation. And what I was gonna do about it.

I wanted that promotion.

And I didn’t want it.

Both of those things were true.

The fact that we can hold wanting and not wanting at the same time might explain why you keep walking past the clutter at home like, “Not today, Satan.”

Because you want to sort out your home so you’re not constantly fighting with your stuff.

But you also kinda … don’t.

And I get it. It’d be nice to enjoy being at home. To be proud of the space you live in.

But getting there? It’s too much, too big, totally overwhelming. And also? Sorting out all of your stuff means choosing what stays and what goes.

You’re in “proceed-with-caution” mode because you care.

And because you’re afraid you’ll choose wrong.

You’re afraid you’ll get rid of something and regret it.

You’re afraid you’ll get rid of something and need it.

You’re afraid you’ll get rid of something and feel guilty about it for the rest of your life.

You’re afraid you’ll lose something you can never get back.

And that fear makes you want to clutch everything as close to your heart as you can so that something precious cannot slip away forever.

Even if it means surrounding yourself with so many things that it’s hard to breathe when you walk through the door.

The devil you know feels safer than the devil you don’t.

It feels survivable, even if it’s not peace.

You hate it, but it whispers: At least I know how to live with this.

And Lawd, are we good at “living with it.”

We “make the best of it.”

We “make do.”

We say things like, “It is what it is.”

We are adaptable and accepting and able to adjust ourselves to whatever circumstance requires of us. Because there are a hundred things that we have to “get on with.” And so we do.

Except you have to have a place where you can breathe.
And that place has to be your home.

I know you’ve been negotiating it for years, but a home where you can rest and recharge and reinvent yourself is non-negotiable. It’s a must-have if you are a woman determined to live a life of her own making.

Which means that you must face the devil you know. And take back your space.

Not in a take no prisoners, ruthless purging kind of way.

But like a grown woman who has opinions about quarterly goals, negotiates deals in rooms with fluorescent lighting, and refuses to be bullied by a coat closet.

Here’s what I believe about taking back the space in your home:

While decluttering does involve getting things out of your house, it’s not about getting rid of a bunch of stuff. It’s about getting clear on what belongs in your home so that your home can support and inspire you in the life you’re building.

Because when you’re clear on the goal, you don’t have to worry about messing this up. Aka: The Devil You Don’t Know.

Another thing I believe is this: The goal isn’t to become a minimalist. Or to have a Pinterest perfect pantry. Or to blow it all up and empty everything out of your space so you can start anew. (Unless you’re moving abroad, in which case: Congrats, Wild One.)

The goal is to have a home that feels aligned to your life.

You’re allowed to make decisions thoughtfully, on purpose, based on what you know is true about what you want and need in the life you are making for yourself.

You’re creating space.

You’re celebrating all that you have been.

And you’re curating a home for the version of you who is living her life right now.

And the devil isn’t making the decisions. You are.

Your friend who would never throw mama from the train,
Vivian

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PS. You’re still reading. Good. That means this is resonating.

So here’s a decision making framework that makes your fear of “choosing wrong” feel impossible.

I call it the “Next Chapter Filter” and it goes like this: When you pick something up, don’t ask “should I keep this or toss it?”

Ask this instead:

🤔 What kind of life am I building?

🤔 Does this item actively support that life?

🤔 If not… is it honestly worth holding on to?

If your final answer is Yes, then awesome. If it’s No? Also awesome.
Either answer is the right answer.

You’re curating. You’re designing. You’re laying a foundation for the life you’re building and deciding what bricks you want to lay to make it happen.

And if your honest answer is, “I’m not sure?” I’d put that in the “Yes for now” column. It doesn’t have to be a Yes for the rest all time. But until it’s a No, let’s hang on to it. Clarity will come. There’s no need to rush it.

One quick “using the filter” suggestion? Start with the neutral stuff first. Don’t head straight to the box of memorabilia you’ve been keeping in the back of the closet. Do yourself a favor and get a feel for it before you try to go all advanced level wild.

Go to the cupboard with all your mugs. Or the drawer with all your underwear in it. Or the closet where you’ve stashed your 28 bottles of body lotion in varying stages of empty.

Go and prove to yourself that you can make decisions about what you want and need. And that you don’t ruin your life when you let something go.

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Want some support doing this in real time?

Let’s do a One-Day Sprint together. We take one day to work in one space, making thoughtful decisions and creating real momentum. I’ll bring the plan and guide the process, you’ll show up and trust your choices. And you end the day with a home that feels lighter.

FYI, if you live in the NYC Metro Area, Chicagoland, or DC… I’m gonna be in town in April/May.

So if you’re like, “Gosh it’d be nice if someone just showed up at my door with coffee and donuts and stood right next to me while we handled this…”

Let’s have a quick chat to see if an in-person, IRL One-Day Sprint (instead of over Zoom) would work for your space.

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