It’s been a week since I gave away almost everything my four children and I had accumulated over 24 years of surviving traumatic grief and navigating life with severe mental health challenges. We had lived in a large farmhouse – full of life, chaos, and objects. So many objects.
Letting go was a deeply emotional process. I used to hear minimalists say, “Clear space, clear mind,” and while that made logical sense, it never resonated in my bones. It turns out, it’s much more complex than that.
But healing is possible. And it begins with small, intentional steps.
Now, I work with people navigating the complicated path of suicide loss. Together, we move beyond merely surviving to build lives filled with meaning, calm, and hope. You don’t have to face this alone – and you don’t have to erase your love or your grief to heal.
The Psychology of Holding On
In psychological theory – particularly in object relations theory (pioneered by D.W. Winnicott in the 1950s) – we learn that humans form emotional attachments to objects because they symbolically represent relationships, especially early relationships with caregivers. From the moment the umbilical cord is cut, we begin the lifelong journey of separation. In response, we often cling to transitional objects to help us feel safe, soothed, and connected.
That’s why children have security blankets, and why we may find ourselves unable to part with a loved one’s jumper, car, or handwritten note.
When my brother died by suicide, I kept the car he had given me parked outside for years – even after it had broken down and begun to rust into the driveway. I wore his old t-shirts until they were threadbare. I framed the tribute I wrote for his funeral and placed it on the mantelpiece… until last week, when I carefully packed it into a memory box and tucked it into my father’s loft.
We don’t release things until we’re ready. And no amount of minimalist advice can override that deep psychological truth.
The Myth of “Just Declutter”
I used to wonder:
Was I a hoarder?
Was I too sentimental?
Was I just environmentally conscious and didn’t want to waste?
I had a hundred justifications.
But in May this year, something shifted. I made a decision:
To give back the farmhouse we were renting and no longer needed.
To give away my sofa and car.
To help my youngest child transition to more independence.
To begin a nomadic life.
And suddenly, the excuses faded, and I found the strength to begin making harder decisions about the objects around me – not from a place of pressure, but from a place of readiness.
Life in Five Boxes
Today, I live out of five boxes – with my 14 year old yorkshire terrier as my best friend (our attachment to pets deserves another blog post of it’s own).
And, to my surprise, it’s going well.
I’ve learned I don’t need objects to be happy. I don’t need physical things to remember my loved ones. The memories live inside me – I only need to pause the outside noise long enough to feel them.
Without the endless cycle of dusting, cleaning, and maintaining things, I have time – and space – to breathe.
For years, I tried to fill the void with stuff. I bought a harp to soothe my nervous system. I learned to ride a motorbike to feel freedom. All of it was an attempt to find relief from the invisible weight I carried – parenting in survival mode, mostly alone, for decades.
Signs, Wasps & Intuition
As I cleared out the house, I discovered a wasp nest in the garden — swarming the movers, creating chaos. I looked it up. Wasps are symbols of transformation, community, and new beginnings.
When I arrived at my father’s home, a wasp flew out of one of my boxes.
At my first dog-sitting job, a wasp stung me in a very tender place.
Coincidence? Maybe. But it felt like a message.
Honouring the Gut Feeling
This week hasn’t been smooth sailing. I’ve been staying in my dad’s spare room until today – when I began my first house-sit. I’m now caring for someone else’s home and pets.
I realised something important: I had agreed to this sit months ago. But as it got closer, I started feeling that it wasn’t quite right for me. Not thinking – feeling. I ignored that gut whisper out of politeness. I didn’t want to let the family down. But I now know… I should have trusted myself.
There’s nothing wrong with the sit – but it doesn’t feel aligned. And that’s enough.
But I embrace it. It’s just seven days. Then I’m free again. Choosing where I go, what I do.
Finding Belonging Without Possession
Despite the discomforts, I’ve gained so much already.
I’ve found unexpected community – talking with pet owners, being supported by my dad and brother, and saying yes to offers of help. It’s such a contrast from my old life, where I did everything alone in a remote farmhouse.
This time last year, I couldn’t have imagined this life. And yet here I am – freer, lighter, more in tune with my body and my truth.
Magic Happens in the Unknown
A year ago I asked for true freedom – I didn’t know what that looked like but I am starting to understand.
Letting go of my belongings wasn’t just a physical act – it was emotional, psychological, even spiritual. Every item I released made room for more trust, more freedom, and more magic.
When you trust your gut, honour your readiness, and leap into the unknown – something beautiful happens.
You become free on the outside and on the inside.
You realise you were never defined by what you owned.
You remember who you are.
And you feel grateful for having the choice of freedom – with loved ones still there to help you along the way,
Bring on the magic. ✨
Love
