My home and the contents therein are a shit sandwich.
What does that mean?
Well, it means that my family’s belongings are burdensome.
The process of minimizing those belongings is arduous.
I have gotten rid of most of my own personal things,
however I can’t force my family to do it.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from wanting to tidy up our living spaces.
The process of doing so has been overwhelming.

I have rid us of superfluous items where I have had permission,
or where it made sense.
Yet the task of tidying our spaces is overwhelming in some cases.
I’ve done it to the kitchen and dining room.
I’ve done it to the living room.
My next target is our bedroom.

It makes me ill every time I walk through our bedroom.
It is unbelievably messy.
I cannot describe it with words.
I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel,
though I have made a little headway.
I think back to the bookcase in the dining room.

Why am I writing this like a poem? I digress.

That bookcase (which contains no books now) took several days to de-clutter.
Every time I’d walk through, I’d remove a few items.
I’d re-locate the items to their new homes,
or the donation bin,
or the trash.
The point is, I didn’t de-clutter that bookcase all at once.

I did it a few items at a time.

So as I work toward getting our bedroom straight,
I must remember one thing:
The bedroom, as with anything in my minimalism journey, is a shit sandwich,
and there’s only one way to eat a shit sandwich:
One bite at a time.