I Tried to Declutter My Life and Ended Up Arguing with a Pair of Jeans from 2012

It all started after binge-watching a home organization show while eating cookies straight from the box. The host smiled brightly, surrounded by empty white walls and houseplants named things like “Fernanda” and “Leaf Erikson.” She said things like:

“If it doesn’t spark joy, thank it and let it go.”

I looked around my living room, where a sweater I hadn’t worn since 2016 sat crumpled on the arm of a chair next to a stack of mail addressed to my old apartment.

Clearly, it was time.

I was going to declutter my life.

Clean space, clear mind, organized soul — right?

Right??

Here’s what actually happened.

Step 1: The Delusional Planning Phase

Armed with a label maker, a fresh trash bag, and way too much optimism, I began.

I made a list:

Clothes: purge and organize

Kitchen: goodbye expired spices and three broken can openers

Bathroom: WHERE do the bobby pins come from??

“Miscellaneous” drawer: aka the Abyss

I also made a playlist. Because if I was going to emotionally unravel, I might as well do it with Beyoncé in the background.

Step 2: The Closet Meltdown

The first thing I pulled out was a pair of jeans from 2012.

They were ambitious even back then. Low-rise. Questionable whiskering. A zipper that somehow always slid halfway down, no matter what.

I held them up and instantly heard my brain say, “You might wear these again someday.”

Excuse me??

These jeans had betrayed me. They had opinions. They reminded me of the time I tried to dance at a wedding and split the inner thigh seam like a human piñata.

Still, I stared at them for ten full minutes.

Could I turn them into shorts?

Could I wear them ironically?

Could I just... fold them and lie to myself?

Eventually, I whispered “no joy” and dropped them into the donation pile. I felt both victorious and emotionally fragile.

Then I found my old high school hoodie. Game over. I sat on the floor and wept into my memories for 20 minutes.

Step 3: The Kitchen Catastrophe

I moved on to the kitchen, ready to face the spice cabinet that time forgot.

Did you know paprika expires? Because I didn’t. I had one container that said “Best By 2017” and another that said nothing at all, which means it predates printed history.

I also found:

A wine opener I don’t know how to use

A cheese grater I thought I lost in 2020

Five chopsticks (no pairs)

And a lid to a Tupperware container that hasn’t existed since Obama was president

I started tossing things out like I was in a reality show montage. It felt good. Until I accidentally threw out the new sponge and had to dig through the bin like a very determined raccoon.

Step 4: The “Miscellaneous” Drawer of Doom

Ah, yes. The drawer.

We all have one. A junk drawer. A place where batteries, dead pens, IKEA screws, takeout menus, expired coupons, and three types of tape live in peace and chaos.

I opened mine and immediately shut it again.

Then I opened it slowly, like Indiana Jones entering a cursed tomb.

Inside, I found:

A birthday card from someone named “Aunt Cheryl” (I do not have an Aunt Cheryl)

A key to something I no longer own

A rubber band ball the size of a grapefruit

And a fortune cookie slip that said, “You will find clarity soon.”

The irony was so loud I had to sit down.

Step 5: The Emotional Realization (Midway Snack Break)

After three hours and half a bag of pretzels, I had a realization:

Decluttering is not just about stuff. It’s about letting go of who you used to be.

That hoodie from college? That was comfort.

Those jeans? That was a version of me who thought low-rise was a good idea.

That drawer full of nonsense? That was life — messy, sentimental, occasionally useful, mostly chaotic.

I wasn’t just throwing things away. I was having a full-blown existential reckoning with a drawer full of paper clips.

Step 6: The Sock Drawer Reckoning

You know what’s truly humbling?

Dumping out your entire sock drawer and realizing 70% of them are single, unmatched, possibly mythical.

Where do the other socks go?

Are they hiding in a secret dimension?

Are they living their best lives as puppets in a child’s craft drawer?

I kept the soft ones. Tossed the sad ones. Said goodbye to the weird ones with holes in the toe that I was still weirdly wearing.

I folded what was left and looked upon it with pride. It was the only part of this process that felt remotely successful.

The Aftermath: Not Quite Minimalist, But Definitely Lighter

I didn’t become one of those chic minimalist influencers who owns three shirts, two bowls, and a hanging succulent named Kevin.

But I did:

Clear out five bags of donations

Throw away things that no longer served me (or anyone)

Discover floor space I forgot I had

And finally… I felt lighter.

Less clutter outside, less noise inside.

Also, I finally found that earring I thought I lost two apartments ago. (It was under an old tote bag full of charger cables. Naturally.)

What I Learned from Decluttering Chaos

Objects carry emotions.

Be prepared to wrestle with your past, your wardrobe, and your idea of “someday clothes.”

Letting go is hard.

But it’s also freeing. And surprisingly fun when you find $5 in an old coat pocket.

Decluttering is not a one-time thing.

It’s a practice. Like meditation, but with more dust and weird cords you can’t identify.

Your home is a reflection of your life.

Messy is okay. Just… try not to hoard 19 coffee mugs if you live alone.

You can keep one sentimental pair of jeans.

Just… maybe don’t name them. (Yes, I named mine. His name is “Dave the Denim.”)