My friend Kara told me about her decluttering guru, a person who not only helps you sort through your stuff and get rid of it but who also helps you deal with the emotional pull of your keepsakes.
This is a problem of affluence, right, that we should be so buried in our stuff, so loathe to part with it, that we must hire someone to tell us to throw it away?
Here's the thing, though: I believe enough in this service, and in this person, that I'm afraid to seek her out. What if she actually does what she says? Am I ready to sift through the girls' schoolwork from 2002? Or the boxes of old letters and birthday and graduation cards?
Motivation is what matters here. I want the final product — the fine, unfettered feeling — but I'm not ready to do what it takes to get there. So until then, it's a full closet, full garage, full house.