The dark side of the KonMari decluttering craze

When the KonMari craze first took off, I was baffled. People were taking up decluttering as if it was new and exciting.

“This doesn’t spark joy,” they’d announce solemnly, before thanking a T-shirt and sending it off to St Vinnies, then posting the whole thing on Instagram.

Really? I thought. This is a movement now? I take clothes to St Vinnies every couple of months. I’ve been KonMari-ing my entire life. Hell, I’ve been KonMari-ing since before Marie Kondo was born.

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Honestly, if you want to meet the KonMari queen, don’t watch Marie Kondo. Come to my house.

I have been an obsessive declutterer since I was a kid. I go through the fridge, pantry, cupboards, storage areas and my wardrobe several times a year.

If I haven’t worn something in a few months, I give it away. If there is a pot no one uses, I chuck it out. If a toy has sat neglected on a shelf for a while, out it goes.

My greatest joy is scouring the house for things to cull.

There is great order and calm that comes from living without clutter. But there is a dark side, too, to KonMari, a dark side I understand more than most. There is an emotion sparked by excessive decluttering, and when it hits, it is lingering and profound.

Regret.

Yes, regret is the flipside of the KonMari coin. Regret is what happens when you are reckless in your quest for order.

After all, what fails to spark joy is but a passing opinion. And, as I have  discovered through painful and repeated experience, it is perfectly possible to change your mind.

I’ve discarded colourful shirts I was sick to death of looking at, only to remember them wistfully years later.

I’ve discarded expensive outfits that were no longer fashionable, only to have drop waists/high waists/wide legs/straight legs/whatever random quirk of fashion come into style again.

I’ve discarded sheets we no longer used, only to have to buy fabric for a child’s dress-up costume; junk jewellery I’ve no longer worn, only to have my daughter plaintively ask for “fun” necklaces; even a tin of canned peaches because none of us eats canned peaches, only to have a crazed craving for canned peaches a week later.

As for electrical cords? Forget it. Every single time I have gone looking for a long-unused-but-necessary cord, it is gone.

I have lost cords for an old laptop, digital camera, portable DVD player and cordless headphones, using “lost” in the sense of “saw them lying around and decided they didn’t spark joy”.

The moral of the story, people, is that KonMari can have konsequences. Sure, it feels great to have a nice, decluttered home, but it doesn’t feel so great when the space is filled with regret.

These days I try very hard to keep items “just in case”, but even the words “just in case” make me wince with discomfort. I can’t bear keeping things around that I no longer need, even if I vaguely suspect I will need them again.

It’s too late for me. I’ve been decluttering for half a century and I’m not going to stop now. But it’s not too late for you. Save yourself from the KonMari kurse while you still have time.