December Declutter
Why I Declutter December Instead of Decorating It
I’ve never been one for jingle bells and reindeer in December. In fact the closest I have come to a reindeer with jingles was an old workhorse that belonged to a relative who has been gone over 40 years now.
Some people slip into the season with ease—lights strung on every porch rail, favorite carols at the ready, cookies arranged like little edible works of art.
I am not one of those people.
I’m the one who ducks into the grocery store, hoping the background music hasn’t yet been taken over by Santa Claus coming to town.
It’s not that I dislike celebration.
I simply prefer mine quieter, simpler, with far fewer sequins.
Add two cats who behave as if every ornament ever created was designed specifically for them, and you have the reason I haven’t had a Christmas tree in several years.
I no longer cook the great family feast either. I have passed that baton, rather happily, to younger generations.
I step aside and bring something simple in one dish with no shame at all.
At this stage of life, knowing my limits feels like wisdom, not withdrawal.
Still…December has never stopped calling.
Just not in the way people expect.
While the world rushes toward “more,” I find myself looking for “less.”
- Less noise.
- Less obligation.
- Less of that unspoken pressure to tie the year together in a perfect bow.
I tend to pull inward in December—more out of instinct than sadness.
That’s when I notice the quieter things:
- the way my schedule fills if I don’t guard it…
- ambitions that feel slightly out of date…
- The distractions of sorrow or worry in the lives of others.
- It all settles like snow. Small flakes until there’s a drift.
So I pay attention to what I’m carrying in December.
- Not the shopping lists.
- The inner weight.
- The old habits.
- The roles I no longer need.
- These things may not make noise, but they take up space. Space in my heart and soul that I would rather be filled with light instead.
When Decluttering Has Nothing To Do With Closets
Decluttering, for me, has very little to do with closets. It’s more about noticing what no longer fits the life I’m living now.
Clearing out is an activity I do as quickly as possible—bags, boxes, labels—everything in its place, and voila! Done!
Letting go is slower. More thoughtful. More like winter pruning.
It happens when I admit a certain goal belonged to an earlier version of me, or when an old worry has lived rent-free far too long.
My days feel crowded not because of clutter on a table, but because I’ve allowed every concern in the world to sit at the head of the table.
Trees know when to let go. One leaf at a time, without fuss. I want them to teach me as I enter December that I don’t have to cling to everything that was once a part of me.
Three Surprising Things December Invites Us to Declutter
1. Physical clutter.
Mine is small: pens that no longer write, books I have read and can pass on, clothes that no longer fit, a broken ornament kept only because I once liked the color. December reminds me to finally look at what is taking space in my physical world that I can open up.
2. Emotional clutter.
Ah…this is where the biggest clutter piles up!!
My life is full with old obligations, outdated expectations—roles I keep out of habit.
It also has a stash of unneeded feelings….
- irritation at someone else,
- sadness for the loss of good friends to death,
- frustration as December stirs memories of unfinished conversations and unresolved dilemmas.
It’s an invitation to rest from all of that.
3. Soul clutter.
This is the hardest. The constant hum of the news. Families without heat. Elders alone in quiet apartments. Communities pulled apart by pressures we can barely name.
- Soul clutter asks for presence, not urgency.
- Attention, not solutions.
- A breath.
- A blessing. A willingness to lower the volume long enough to hear our own life.
December has always been a month of contemplation—across traditions and cultures.
Hanukkah lights. Solstice fires. Quiet rituals in countless communities reminding us that light still returns.
In almost all traditions, December is a month to treasure light, and I ask myself “Where is the light in my life and how do I keep it burning.
What is being warmed by its presence? And what is it revealing to me about my path into the new year?”
The Practice That Makes December Bearable
I follow a small ritual I call my One-Thing Practice. It is a journaling practice that fits nicely in a tiny little 3.5×5 journal.
Each day I choose one thing—just one—to tend to.
A cluttered surface, a stubborn worry, an outdated goal, a habit that no longer fits.
I sit with it, name it, and write about it. Why is this in my life?
How important is it to me? To my descendants. To share with the world?
Who could use it better than I? And then I decide if it still belongs in my life.
Some things stay.
Some things go.
Some things simply shift a little to the left.
One small choice can be astonishingly freeing.
What this clearing makes space for—rest, new ideas, or simply a quieter heart—unfolds on its own.
December is full of small miracles: frost catching the light, a single candle in a window, a moment of peace in a hungry world.
And the miracle of ‘letting go’ and then receiving the gift it returns.
So I ask myself—and I ask you:
What is asking to be set down in your life right now?
May this December give you room to breathe, space to see what matters,and the courage to release what has already served its purpose.
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