I wrote that post last night and then something compelled me to read some of my original posts on this blog.
I don’t think I’ve ever visited my archives in this space. I’m not sure why, but it just hasn’t happened. It’s been almost a two years since I started writing here, and there is a lot of me on these “pages.” It can be a compelling exercise to go back and revisit the person I once was.
I did that last night, and I was struck by how far I’ve come. Truly. I honestly didn’t remember how bad it was, how far into the hole I was before I started pursuing minimalism and getting rid of stuff. But it was bad. Really bad. This post was especially eye opening. I don’t remember it being that untenable in our new house, but clearly it was.
Change can be so gradual that sometimes we don’t appreciate how incredible it really is. I so appreciate having this space so I can go back and remember, so I can see how far I’ve actually come, and be proud of what I’ve accomplished. Because you know what, I’m not that person who wrote that post about her disgusting house. My house IS NOT like that now. If I had known then, that I would be here now, I would have cried great big tears of relief. I would have been so grateful to know there really was a light at the end of that dark, dirty, overwhelming tunnel.
But I didn’t know, and I tried to change anyway. And that is brave. And I’m proud of myself for this undertaking. I’m proud of myself for following through, for keeping on the path even when it was difficult and I felt I was moving backward, for sticking with it despite what felt like glacially slow progress.
I’m starting to realize that glacially slow is okay. Because glaciers may move slowly, but they cut incredible, dramatic valleys in their wake. They fundamentally and forever alter the landscape. They are enormous forces of change.
Minimalism is my glacier: slow, steady, landscape-altering and unstoppable.