For as long as most women can remember, we’ve been given the same message: do more, be more, keep going, don’t fall behind, and whatever you do, don’t let anyone down.
Most of us never stop to question that message. We simply work harder. We become better jugglers, better caregivers, better problem-solvers. We convince ourselves that if we could just get a little more organized, manage our time a little better, or finally catch up, life would begin to feel lighter.
Several months ago, I sat down to write what I thought would be a humorous book about clutter.
I wanted to write about the chair that somehow becomes a second closet, the black sweaters that seem to multiply on their own, the decorative baskets we buy to organize the clutter we haven’t organized yet, and the drawer full of mystery cords we’re convinced belong to something important. They are the ordinary, wonderfully human moments so many women recognize immediately.
As I wrote those stories, I found myself laughing because they were true.
But somewhere in the middle of writing the book, I realized I wasn’t really writing about clutter at all.
I was writing about women.
I was writing about the invisible weight so many of us carry every day.
That realization became the foundation of Somewhere Under This Pile Is My Life, but it also helped me better understand something I had been witnessing throughout my career.
For more than twenty years, women have come to me believing they needed help organizing their homes. They would call because they wanted to reclaim a room, clear a closet, or finally get through years of accumulated belongings. They thought they needed someone to help them make decisions about their things.
What they often discovered was that the things were only the beginning.
As a coach, my work has never been about convincing people to let go of their possessions. My work is about helping people understand what they’re holding onto, why they’re holding onto it, and what becomes possible when they finally feel ready to move forward.
The conversations that changed lives rarely began with a storage container or an organizing system. They began when someone felt safe enough to tell the truth.
The truth that she was exhausted.
The truth that she had spent years taking care of everyone else.
The truth that she no longer recognized herself.
The truth that she had been carrying grief, guilt, fear, or impossible expectations for so long that they had simply become part of her daily life.
Time and again, I watched something remarkable happen.
As women began releasing the emotional weight they had been carrying, decisions that once felt impossible became easier. The clutter started to move because they were moving. They weren’t just creating more space in their homes; they were creating more space in their hearts, their relationships, and their futures.
That is why I no longer see clutter as the problem.
I see it as a messenger.
It invites us to slow down and ask better questions.
Not, “How can I get more done?”
But, “What am I carrying that no longer belongs on my shoulders?”
For one woman, the answer may be guilt.
For another, it may be perfectionism.
For someone else, it may be the belief that her value depends on how much she can accomplish or how many people she can take care of before she takes care of herself.
Whatever the answer, I have learned that lasting change rarely begins on a shelf or in a closet.
It begins within.
When we change the way we see ourselves, we change the way we live. Our homes begin to reflect that change. Our choices become clearer. Our relationships become healthier. We stop striving for perfection and begin making room for peace.
Perhaps that is what living lighter has always meant.
Not owning less.
Not doing more.
But carrying only what truly belongs to us.
The piles we see are often pointing to something we cannot.
When we have the courage to understand that, we don’t just organize our homes.
We transform our lives.
