I’ve been working with a septuagenarian client who’s focused on some serious downsizing. To create ease for her children and grandchildren, she solidified her will and let go of countless bags of stuff, keeping only what she needs and enriches her life. Her efforts will segue into an out-of-state (or country!) move for her next phase, now that she’s retired. This process has allowed a methodical and mindful sorting, in her full mental and physical capacity, never feeling rushed or stressed. She’s been determined and focused, and taken the time to say good-bye to once treasured items.

Good-bye’s of all types are challenging, even when we think, “good riddance!”, or are excited about where we’re headed. Whether it’s people or places or things, they all hold something, which may make it complicated to let go. Sometimes this leads to us holding onto more later because we don’t want to re-experience the regret of good-bye. When we ignore good-bye’s, the build up of the unacknowledged but related emotions catch up with us; repressed feelings that pop up unexpectedly. Mostly, we miss an opportunity to get to know ourselves better. 

Saying good-bye, completely alone, is an added challenge. That’s why funerals aren’t solo events. It’s why we externally process difficult emotions and sort through complex situations with people we trust. But we often don’t engage with others during the significant good-bye’s that we experience with our stuff. Even if living with a partner, there may be more contention or less patience with these farewells. Sometimes calling a friend or family can help, though there’s always the risk in them steering us back toward keeping the item. 

Back to my client: she began telling me about some pivotal papers she’d written during her career and how they related to her mentor (who’d passed away). As she was describing them, what they meant to her, and why she was ready to let them go, I said, “It sounds like you’ve come to a decision.” She said, “I guess I have.” But it took saying it aloud and to someone that understood and supported her decision to move on. I explained that even once we’ve (mostly) decided to part with an item, we need to recite it’s eulogy and have someone witness it. This also provides a level of accountability. The “stuff eulogy” isn’t needed for most items but it makes a difference for stickier ones, and ensures that we don’t default to keeping items.

I have another client who recently said, “I think I’m ready to let these things go, I just need you to bless them.” Alone, he would have defaulted to not putting them in the donation bag. It’s almost always easier to keep then to let go. I listened to the stories of the items, reconfirming his analysis, and adding to the reasons why it was time to let go. I saw the way this eased his mind and quickened the process. He needed the eulogy and the extra ease of me directing what to do with the items (ex. donate, sell, recycle) so he didn’t become distracted by another decision to make. He could focus on the emotional end of the process that proved to be cathartic.

Remember: Minimalism isn’t only about having less stuff. It’s about what our stuff represents. It’s being mindful and thoughtful about what we acquire, keep, and let go of …. and the why behind it all. This is the magic of minimalism.

The “stuff eulogy” is a deeply effective tool in the downsizing process. It acknowledges the emotional component of this work while also reminding us that minimalism doesn’t need to be a solitary process. Consider what items would benefit from a eulogy and let me know how I can support you.