During the three weeks I waited to learn whether I had kidney cancer, I spent nearly all my free time decluttering. It was December, and the house smelled like cinnamon and pine. I remember sitting in the boys’ closet, boxing up toys they’d outgrown—feeling a mix of sadness and relief. Letting go of what no longer served us gave me something I needed: peace, clarity, and a sense of control when everything else felt uncertain.

Decluttering wasn’t just a coping mechanism—it became a form of healing. And it’s a rhythm I continue to follow, not through strict rules, but through gentle steps that support our family’s wellbeing. One drawer. One corner. One breath at a time.