I haven’t shared this story very often, but today, it feels especially appropriate.
That forgotten basket had been sitting in the corner of my basement storage closet for years. It was a plain white plastic laundry basket – the kind you might pick up at a big box store for $9.99.
When I saw it again, it was cracked in one corner and covered in dust. It wasn’t beautiful, sentimental, or even especially useful anymore. But still, I couldn’t bring myself to let it go.
That laundry basket once lived in the corner of my son’s bedroom. I used it to gather little boy socks, grass-stained jeans, and soft pajamas that smelled like shampoo… and their childhood.
I used it every day during those sleep-deprived mornings – those messy, magical years when life was loud, full, and chaotic.
I found the basket during a major decluttering session. My boys were grown, both married with children of their own. The house was quieter. My life had changed.
Why was I holding on to it?
I picked it up, fully intending to donate it. After all, it was just a cheap plastic basket. But the moment I touched it, I was transported. I was suddenly standing in my old house – the one where my boys grew up.
I could hear the hum of the dryer, the giggles coming from a nearby room, and I saw my younger self folding tiny T-shirts while thinking about what’s for dinner and reminding myself to sign those school permission slips.
That basket held more than clothes. It held memories. It held a version of me who was needed, present, and deeply connected to her role as a mom.
I wasn’t just holding on to a basket.
I was holding on to her.
There I stood – frozen in time, clutching the basket, tears welling up. That’s when it hit me.
The basket had served its purpose. It had done its job. It held socks, shirts… and so many memories. But it didn’t need to hold me anymore.
I realized something powerful that day: We don’t keep things because we need them. We keep them because we haven’t fully honored what they meant to us.
It was never about the basket. It was about giving myself permission to let go – with gratitude, not guilt.
We all have a “laundry basket” in our homes.
It might be:
These everyday objects seem harmless, but they carry emotional weight. They remind us – quietly – of who we once were, who we hoped to be, or what we’ve lost or left unfinished.
Without realizing it, we surround ourselves with emotional noise.
And that noise can keep us stuck in grief, guilt, or an identity we’ve outgrown.
Inspired by that moment, I created what I now call the Laundry Basket Method – a gentle, heart-centered approach to decluttering that honors the emotional ties we have to our things.
Here’s how it works:
Start small. Pick just one thing.
Letting go of that old basket didn’t make me feel empty. It made me feel free.
Decluttering isn’t just about tidying or organizing.
It’s about transforming your relationship with the past – and stepping into your future, lighter, wiser, and more open.
You don’t need a massive cleanout or a whole weekend to feel the shift. Just start with one thing.
Hold it.
Honor it.
Let it go.
Notice how even the simplest, most ordinary object – like a laundry basket – might hold the key to your next chapter.
Because letting go isn’t losing something. It’s choosing freedom.
It’s choosing you.
Also read, Top 10 Red Flags That Tell You It’s Time to Ditch the Clutter (And How to Get Started).
What’s one ordinary object in your home that holds an extraordinary amount of emotion or memory? Have you ever tried to declutter something but found yourself stuck because of what it symbolized? What was it? What part of your identity do you think you’re holding onto through your stuff?
Tags Downsizing Your Life
Very Helpful
Thanks so much for this article. Really hit home with me!
I’m so glad that it helped
❤️
I love this article and its topic, thank you! For me, it’s a stack of old self-help books. On the surface, they’re just worn paperbacks with bent spines and faded covers, but emotionally, they hold the weight of who I used to be and all I once hoped for. I clung to those books years ago in my search for success, direction, and purpose. They were like lighthouses in the fog, offering guidance during a time when I desperately wanted to live a meaningful life, but didn’t yet know how.
Each title represents a dream I had for myself, some vague, some specific, before I uncovered the work that would ultimately become my calling. Now, as someone who walks alongside others at the end of life, I no longer feel the same desperate need to become something. I know why I’m here. I know what I’m meant to do. And I’m living that journey every day.
I still keep the books, not because I need them, but because I appreciate what they represented: my willingness to grow, to ask hard questions, and to keep moving forward. They’ve served their purpose. I’ve outgrown them, and in many ways, they’ve released me.
Plus, let’s be honest—most of what’s in those books is now easily available with a quick internet search. But the emotional imprint they carry? That’s timeless.
Such a beautiful testimony to your journey and the importance of certain things in our lives. Very inspiring! Thank you.
Thanks Rita! I actually shared your article with a good friend and it really helped her move forward with moving a few items on to their next destination.
Thank you for sharing these words. I feel the very same way about my self help books. :)
Thanks Jorie! I am committed to sharing these books with others. I can’t imagine selling them, but I could donate them to the Library here in Seattle or the Women’s prison in our state.
🥰
Beautiful article! Pure poetry!
tgankyou for your kind words Glad it helped!
rita Wilkins
the Downsizing Designer
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story!!!
You’re so welcome, I’m glad it helped. Please share it with others you think might benefit.
Rita Wilkins
The Downsizing designer