Why I Reorganize the Same Bathroom Drawer Every Few Weeks
My daughter found me reorganizing my bathroom drawer again and asked, 'Mom, didn't you just clean...
My daughter found me reorganizing my bathroom drawer again and asked, "Mom, didn't you just clean that last week?"
She was right. I had. And the week before that too.
But I wasn't reorganizing it because it was messy or broken. I was reorganizing it because something in me craves the clarity that comes from having exactly what I need, exactly where I need it, with nothing extra competing for space or attention.
That small drawer holds my daily essentials – face wash, moisturizer, the lip balm I actually use, hair clips that work. Nothing fancy, nothing aspirational, nothing "just in case." Just the simple tools that support my real life, arranged in a way that makes each morning feel calm instead of chaotic.
Here in Arizona, where the desert teaches you to appreciate what's essential, I've learned that decluttering isn't about perfection – it's about peace.
Most people think minimalism is about having less stuff. But for me, it's about having less mental noise.
When my spaces are clear, my mind is clear.
My client Amanda used to think my regular decluttering was excessive until she tried it herself. "I always thought you were being obsessive," she told me, "but now I understand. It's not about the stuff – it's about the feeling."
She's right. When I open that bathroom drawer and everything has a place and purpose, something settles in me. When I go through my clothes each season and keep only what fits my body and my life right now, I feel lighter. When I clear out toys that my daughter has outgrown, I'm not just making physical space – I'm making space for who we're becoming.
The recognition that changed everything: Decluttering isn't a chore I have to do – it's a gift I give myself.
Every few weeks, I find myself drawn back to that bathroom drawer, not because it's cluttered, but because the process of touching each item and asking "Does this still serve me?" feels like meditation. Like prayer. Like coming home to myself.
When I hold my face wash and notice it's nearly empty, I can add it to my shopping list instead of discovering I'm out when I'm rushing to get ready. When I see that I have three headbands but only ever use one style, I can move the extras to my daughter's room where they'll actually be used.
It's not about achieving some perfect state. It's about staying present with what I actually need.
This practice has taught me something profound about the difference between maintaining perfection and maintaining peace. Perfection is rigid – it requires everything to stay exactly the same. Peace is fluid – it adjusts as life changes.
The reflection comes in recognizing that my relationship with my possessions mirrors my relationship with everything else in my life.
I declutter my closet seasonally not because I'm trying to create the perfect wardrobe, but because I want to wake up each day and put on clothes that fit the person I am right now. I don't need to keep the dress slacks from my corporate days "just in case" – I need space for the comfortable, professional pieces that work for virtual therapy sessions.
When I clear out my family's belongings, I'm not being wasteful or harsh. I'm being honest about what serves us and what creates unnecessary decision fatigue. My daughter doesn't need forty stuffed animals competing for space – she needs the five favorites that actually bring her comfort and joy.
The renewal happens every time I choose simplicity over complexity.
In the desert, you learn quickly that excess isn't just unnecessary – it's exhausting. Too much stuff to maintain, too many choices to make, too many things demanding your attention when you could be present with what matters.
This doesn't mean my home is stark or empty. It means everything in my space has earned its place by serving my family's actual life. We have books we love to reread, art supplies my daughter uses weekly, comfortable furniture that invites connection. But we don't have storage units full of "someday" items or closets stuffed with clothes that don't fit our bodies or our lifestyle.
The rise has been discovering that simple isn't the same as sparse – it's selective.
Now when I feel overwhelmed or stuck, my first instinct isn't to add something new to my life. It's to look around and see what I can release. What commitments am I carrying that no longer serve me? What mental clutter am I holding onto out of habit rather than intention?
Sometimes the answer is physical – that bathroom drawer needs a gentle reset, or it's time for the seasonal clothing swap. Sometimes it's emotional – I need to let go of expectations that are weighing me down, or relationships that drain more energy than they give.
But the process is always the same: Touch each thing (physical or emotional) and ask, "Does this serve the person I am right now?"
If yes, it stays. If no, it goes – with gratitude for what it gave me when I needed it, and with relief for the space it leaves behind.
This practice has become my favorite form of self-care. Not bubble baths or spa days (though I enjoy those too), but the quiet ritual of creating space that supports my peace instead of competing for my attention.
Your simple invitation this week:
Pick one small space that you encounter daily – maybe a drawer, a shelf, or even your purse or backpack. Take everything out and touch each item. Ask yourself: Does this serve the person I am right now?
Keep only what actively supports your current life. Notice how it feels to have exactly what you need and nothing extra.
If you find yourself drawn back to reorganize that same space again in a few weeks, honor that impulse. It might not be about the space at all – it might be your soul asking for a moment of clarity in a complicated world.
More thoughts on simple living:
Your space gets to support your peace, not compete for it. Start with one drawer and see how that clarity ripples into the rest of your life.
Here's what I want you to try this week:
Look around your space and notice what's there to serve who you think you should be versus who you actually are. Start with one small area – maybe a drawer or a shelf. Hold each item and ask: Does this support my real life, or my imaginary life?
Let go of three things that were meant for the woman you thought you “should” become. Keep the things that serve the woman you are today.
Notice how it feels to make space for your authentic self instead of all your "should be" selves.
Related reads that might help:
Embracing the Art of Receiving: Cultivating Self-Worth & Balance
From Unwanted to Joyful: Transforming Unwanted Gifts into Opportunities
Your space gets to reflect your real life, not your Pinterest dreams. Start there.
Until next week,
A few friendly notes: Client names are always changed to protect privacy. This newsletter may contain affiliate links to products I genuinely love and use myself. While I'm a licensed therapist, this content is for educational purposes and isn't medical advice - think of it as a conversation with a friend who happens to know about mental health. For personalized support, always consult your healthcare provider.