Today became a quiet but determined overhaul of my bedroom — a full-scale sort through drawers, cupboards and clothes, every single one examined and either kept with purpose or released without guilt. What began as a practical task slowly turned into something more intentional, almost like feng shui, as if shifting furniture and clearing surfaces might also realign something unsettled inside me. The space feels lighter now, calmer, as though it can finally breathe again.
This weekend has been relentless in the best and worst ways. I’ve been productive to the point of exhaustion, yet oddly satisfied. Planning for the week ahead is almost complete, with just a small amount left for tomorrow. For now, though, I can already picture the comfort of falling into bed, knowing I’ve wrung every possible ounce out of the day. Sleep is essential tonight — there’s a 6:15am gym class waiting for me, and the alarm will arrive far too quickly.
Despite the productivity, the tiredness runs deeper than physical fatigue. There’s an absence in the house that decluttering can’t touch. I miss having another adult presence — someone to share the small details of the day with, someone whose support felt effortless and constant. I miss the familiarity of being part of a complete unit, the kind of togetherness where even irritation was softened by laughter, where conversation flowed easily, and where giving away your last Rolo felt natural and loving. When did independence start to feel so heavy, and why does silence linger so loudly once the busyness stops?
Perhaps that sense of being lost explains this sudden need to strip everything back. This weekend has been motion without pause — 30,000 steps, task after task, tick it off and move on. Decluttering feels like control when emotions feel untidy, like order is something I can still create. Now, as the day finally comes to a close, it’s time for bed. The house is clear, the mind quieter — at least for tonight. But I can’t help but wonder how I’ll feel tomorrow, when the stillness returns and the space has nothing left to hide behind.
Between what was and what's next 