Guilt clutter (long)

[SPA...@interlog.com]

I mentioned under the Polaroids thread a thing I call Guilt Clutter,
which is different from Sentimental Clutter (although Sentimental
Clutter frequently devolves into Guilt Clutter). Guilt Clutter is
*doubly* bad in my book because it's two times the clutter for the
price of one: the physical junk taking up space and the guilt
cluttering up your energy. Sentimental Clutter is stuff like: your
wedding dress, baby booties, love letters, the hockey stick you won
the Stanley Cup with, the blue ribbon you won for the biggest pumpkin
at the fall fair, the first dollar you ever earned, the fuzzy dice
from your first car, locks of hair, the little bottle of sand from
your trip to the Caribbean.

Guilt Clutter is: your daughter's wedding dress from her first
marriage (she's on her third) that she won't keep because Hubby #3
doesn't like it around but you spent $3,000 on the dress and neither
one of you really want it but neither of you will part with it either.
It's the ugly painting or lamp someone gave you for Christmas seven
years ago that you suspect was a gift being passed off by them because
they didn't like it either but you keep it hanging around just in case
they come over because once every ten months they *do* drop in and
would just be crushed if they didn't see it. Guilt clutter is the two
hundred and seventy seven crusty, curly tempera paintings on
construction paper made by your oldest child in nursery school, junior
kindergarten, and kindergarten. Everyone's tired of them; they're
dog-eared and flaking, but what kind of person could throw out
something their child made? Painted with their own tiny fingers!

Another way to tell the difference is that Sentimental Clutter can
almost always be summed up and explained in very few words, and Guilt
Clutter almost always has a long-winded explanation attached to it,
usually fraught with various psychologically dysfunctional aspects.
(The dress bought to show up your ex's new girlfriend, the
never-played-with toys bought to bribe a child into compliance, the
'57 Buick acquired in a vengeful contesting of Grandpa's will, etc.
etc.) Sentimental Clutter usually has a pleasant, loving, or at least
a bittersweet feeling attached to it. Seeing it and thinking about it
usually brings a smile or a tolerable feeling of wistfulness. Guilt
Clutter can have these feelings attached to it but Guilt Clutter
almost always has feelings of regret, remorse, resentment, anger,
fear, exasperation, and/or indecision attached to it. Guilt Clutter
always *weighs* more emotionally than Sentimental Clutter.

You might be able to get rid of some Sentimental Clutter by taking
pictures of it, but Guilt Clutter ain't letting you off the hook so
easily. With Guilt Clutter, you have to face up to the emotional
baggage connected to the clutter. One powerful way to deal with it is
to try to transform it. For example: the toys-bought-as-a-bribe. Don't
just toss them in a Goodwill bag; since they've never been used, maybe
go a little out of your way to drop them at a children's hospital just
before Christmas, or make sure that they find their way (anonymously,
in a colourful new basket with a balloon tied to it) to a needy
family. You'll not only feel good about helping someone else, but
you'll be free of both the clutter and the guilt. Acknowledge that
maybe your original actions were not as well-motivated as they might
have been and ALSO acknowledge that you are now doing what you can to
make things right and let yourself off the hook. (The last part is
very important.)

This type of Guilt Clutter is always complicated and personal so to
transform it you may be need to be creative and reflective. If you
persist the right remedy will come to you. If you really can't think
of anything to transform it, at least donate it to a worthy cause,
recycle it, sell it and donate the proceeds, or finally, throw it out
and forgive yourself.

Another subcategory of Guilt Clutter is all the stuff you're keeping
so you won't hurt anybody's feelings. This is the stuff you don't want
and never would have acquired but someone you care about gave it to
you and you feel too guilty to get rid of it.

Personally, I think if you have received something as a gift, and you
wrote a thank-you note promptly and you have even gone so far as to
display the gift in your home for a period of time, I think the role
of "grateful recipient" has been fulfilled. What kind of a person
expects a friend/relative to keep and display and clean and dust every
gift they're ever given, FOREVER? Exchange the item if you can
reasonably do so (most people really won't mind; after all, they
wanted to please you or they wouldn't have given anything in the first
place) or give it to someone who will actually appreciate it. Don't
submit to having it clutter your life forever, along with the guilt
you feel every time you wish you could dump it.

If you find you are frequently the recipient of unwanted items and
gifts that are simply not to your taste, try letting people know (if
they ask, of course; it's beyond rude to tell people what they should
get you for a present if they never asked) that you'd be pleased with
a donation in your name to your favorite charity (a terrific gift for
someone with too much stuff, as it not only helps someone but also
produces no more clutter than a tax receipt). Or suggest perishable
presents: flowers, restaurant meals, movie passes, theatre tickets,
massage appointments. Or ask them to get something fixed for you,
something that's been languishing for a long time. Or suggest a
service they could perform for you: babysitting, cooking, lawn mowing,
porch painting, laundry. And remember to give these kind of gifts to
others too; less clutter in the world. (Starting to give these kinds
of gifts will often inspire others to return the favour.)

Whew. What began as a short treatise on Guilt Clutter has turned into
a much longer post than I expected. If you've read all this, thanks
very much. I'd love to hear the thoughts of others.

(All of the above is just my opinion, of course, YMMV.

Deborah

to reply by e-mail: deborahb AT interlog DOT com