work

I used to dread having an organizing session with June. Just the thought of the process would provoke an overwhelming fatigue, which would completely take over me. In the beginning, the sessions would only be three to four hours but it felt like days. Into the first 45 minutes, I would often just glaze over detached and watch June, the humming bird, in her effervescent determination clapping her hands together and muttering her mantra, “It’s taking on a life of its own.” I just wanted to run. I’d welcome answering the phone just to escape for a few moments. Not to escape June, mind you, but the exhaustion from resisting letting go of stuff. Miraculously, it got easier.

The first thing we did together was my filing system. It took weeks, maybe even months. Granted, my files did look pretty (and I am an aesthetician) but the bigger picture was completely lost on me. This whole “honoring” your roles and stuff, I thought, “Propaganda!” June prophesized that I would experience a shift. I sat and waited as if it would arrive by Fed Ex the next day. Imperceptibly, at first, it crept in. I began to be more aware of honoring myself and noticing how and when people in my life didn’t honor me. Decluttering was taking on a whole new meaning. I didn’t just purge files. I purged relationships that no longer had a purpose. “Bye!” became easier to say spiritually and verbally.

It was a real leap of faith and trust to let June in on what I’ve held onto. I’ve never known anyone who loved digging into my dark side and looking into the dusty corners without condemnation. June simply delves into discovery with a nonchalant “What’s this?” and holds up the goods – gotcha!

I still don’t always get her path of importance like one of the last sessions we had: June had an obsessive interest in my medicine cabinets. They were full but “Geez, June, they were organized.” Still she wouldn’t back down. She put me on the stand, “But did you touch everything? Why do you have two of these? Do you use all of this every day?” Yes she was finding holes in my reasoning. I told her I thought we should do the living room shelves. She fixed her glance again on the medicine cabinets and declared, “I think we’ll start here.” Three hours later, we were still in the bathroom. I was feeling that tiredness coming over me like in the early days but now I was experienced enough to know that this was an indication that June was right. The very next day I began my morning where I always do, in the bathroom … including the medicine cabinets. Honoring the start of my day was, indeed, just what the doctor ordered.

There are triumphant moments, like the time we took on my garage. I plowed through ten boxes in one hour. In two hours, the garage was done. Now, I find that I cannot wait for June to come. I know something wonderful is going to happen. I am hooked on feeling inspired and I trust the journey that June will take me on.

Of all noticeable changes, one looms largest: the tasks that I used to avoid doing still needs to be done but the dread with which I used to approach them has been transformed to joy and the pride of achievement. The smallest of tasks produces the same exaltation because they are all about honoring my well-being.

Gwenne Wilcox, creative director / mother