I’m writing this about two hours after my children’s Book Week parade — and if you’re from a country that doesn’t celebrate Book Week, just know that it’s a big deal here in Australia.
It is exactly what it sounds like: the kids pick a character from a favourite book, get dressed up, and then parade around the school oval. It’s cute and wholesome, but also a source of dread for many parents.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most organised person. (I’m a decluttering coach because clutter makes it impossible for me to function, not because decluttering comes easily or naturally. And decluttering is a separate skill from organising!) But that’s a discussion for another day.
For now, just know that Book Week always sneaks up on me. I find out at the last minute from another parent, or the school WhatsApp group, and then I frantically dig through our bookshelves looking for a character that looks suspiciously like something we already own.
Which is fine … but then every year, I’d show up at the school and see a handful of kids wearing amazing handmade costumes. (This year someone made a detailed replica of the Titanic out of cardboard.) And yes, most of the kids are dressed more like mine. But of course, that’s not what my brain notices, is it?
We notice all the ways that we’re not good enough, instead of noticing the things we’re doing well. But more on that later.
Because this year, I decided early that I would be organised.
Back in July, I asked my kids to pick a character, and they did. A capybara for my son (from the book Happy Barry Capybara, which by the way is a fabulous read) and my daughter chose Pizza from the Pizza and Taco series.
Great, I thought. Barry Capybara would be a challenge, but I had a vision for Pizza. This year was going to be my year.
Fast forward to August. Somehow, I blinked and weeks had flown by — and there it was in my calendar staring back at me. Book Week was right around the corner.
I urgently called for my partner. “How did this happen? I thought I was going to be prepared this year,” I wailed.
I grabbed a pen and paper, and started making lists, all while mentally reviewing my schedule and wondering when on earth I was going to fit this all in.
On top of work, home, and spending time with family, I’ve had a lot of specialist appointments for myself and one of my children. Plus, I’d finally signed up for Pilates, something I’d wanted to do for myself for years, but had kept putting off.
I must have looked visibly distressed because my partner calmly put his hand on my arm. “You know,” he told me once he had my attention, “you could always just order something.”
“No,” I gasped, probably a bit too dramatically. “This was my year, I was finally going to be a good mom.”
He gave me a look and I realised what I said.
In my head, it had felt so true — that I must make my kids’ costumes or I’d be failing them in some way — but after saying it out loud, I realised how ridiculous it was.
Still I protested.
“I just … I just really wanted to make this special for them.”
He reminded me that we had both made plans to attend the parade in person, and that’s what would make it special. (Plus, he said most kids preferred store-bought costumes these days, which is probably true.)
I still wasn’t happy. I felt guilty about creating waste, and as a decluttering coach, I sometimes carry an extra layer of guilt about buying something when I technically could make do with what I already have.
But I gave in, and it was the best Book Week ever. Every night before bed, my son told me how excited he was to wear his costume. And my daughter, who struggles with reading?
I walked into her room at bedtime and found her reading out loud to herself.
An actual book, for the first time ever, all on her own.
In the end, I did make one costume: a cardboard Taco for myself, so Pizza would have her sidekick in the crowd.
Then I came home, and decided to write this post because (believe it or not) my Book Week story can teach us all something about decluttering.
The stories we tell ourselves
Whether we realise it or not, we tell ourselves stories about who we are — or more specifically, who we should be.
I told myself that a good mom makes overly complicated Book Week costumes from scratch.
Maybe you tell yourself that an educated woman owns shelves full of books.
Or that you can’t be successful unless you dress a certain way, or carry the right handbag.
These stories tend to sit below the surface. (If someone had asked me to define a good mom, Book Week would have been the furthest thing from my mind.) But that doesn’t mean that they don’t have power.
I felt like I “had” to make their costumes, and I felt so much resistance to letting that go.
The resistance you feel when decluttering often has those same roots. The dusty books on your shelves, the handbag in the back of your closet, the vintage tablecloth that never gets used … if those things represent a “better” version of ourselves, is it any wonder we struggle to let go?
Related Post: Your Stuff Tells a Story (And Why That Matters for Decluttering)
Make the invisible beliefs visible
When I was struggling to let go of homemade costumes, what stopped me was hearing myself say why it mattered so much: because that’s what a good mom does.
It felt true in my head, but hearing it out loud, I knew it wasn’t. I could write pages and pages about what I think it means to be a good mother, and making costumes is nowhere on that list.
So I rewrote the story.
I love the idea of making homemade costumes, and there are plenty of good reasons to do it. Maybe I will someday. But this year, I chose to order the costumes because I am a good mom — not because I’d given up on being one.
Like so many of you, I’m tired and I’m busy, but I’m doing my best to show up for my kids when it matters, and that’s what makes me a good mom.
In the same way, your stuff doesn’t define you either.
But sometimes letting go means noticing the story you’ve attached to it first.
- An educated woman owns books.
- A successful woman dresses like this.
- A creative person would use this someday.
- A good mother keeps these things for her children.
You don’t have to argue with yourself or prove that those stories are ridiculous. Sometimes it’s enough to bring them into the light and ask: Do I really believe this?
Because sometimes, once you hear the story out loud, letting go becomes a whole lot easier.
For more decluttering support
If this post has you wondering what stories might be hiding underneath your own clutter, my free Mindful Decluttering guide can help. Simply fill out the form below to get your free copy delivered straight to your inbox.
You might also enjoy one of these blog posts:
- What My Five-Year-Old Taught Me About Decluttering (A Quick but Effective Tip) — If the connection between identity and clutter resonated with you, this story about something my five-year-old taught me takes the idea one step further.
- Why Decluttering Gets Harder Before It Gets Easier — If you keep getting stuck on things that should be easy to declutter, this explains why the deeper work often has very little to do with the stuff itself.
- 4 Thoughtful Questions to Ask When Decluttering — Not sure what story is keeping you stuck? These four questions can help you look beneath the surface.
- 7 Daily Journal Prompts For Self-Reflection + Purposeful Living — Or if this post has you thinking about the expectations and stories you carry more broadly, these journal prompts can help you explore them.
Have you ever realised that something you were holding onto was tied to a story about who you thought you “should” be? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!
