So what was the problem?

Apartment Therapy
by Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan

(Page 2 of 2)

Julia wanted it to feel more relaxing; Carl wanted to find a way to arrange his office. At first, the problems seemed very general. But there was a nagging feeling that they couldn't quite pinpoint.

When pressed, Julia admitted that she didn't feel in control of their home and said that Carl's office had taken over. He acknowledged that the apartment had gotten a little cluttered, and together they wished it were calmer and more organized. With good files, he could pack up his office each night.

On the tour, I found much more. Next to the bed was a tall pile of magazines stretching back several months, and days' worth of water glasses. There were objects under the couch that had been missing for months. They admitted that they should hire a cleaning person, but they just hadn't gotten around to it.

Pulling up their mattress to reveal the floor under their bed, I found a fleet of dust bunnies that looked like they could crawl. Carl had never seen these before. Julia had and was embarrassed.

Although we had discussed other problems, in every room I could see that cleanliness—or lack of it—was a key issue. While it wasn't out of control and things looked good, the growing dust and clutter of a heavily used home underlined every concern they had mentioned in the interview. Out of sight but hardly out of mind, the disarray explained the agitation expressed in everything they had said.

As we exited the bedroom, I asked them where their vacuum was. "In the hall closet, I think," Carl replied. Regardless of the need for files, I told them, a deep cleaning was where we would begin.

Whichever type you identify with, the cure is balance. Whether warm or cool, you never want to change your basic temperament. It is who you are and it contains your strengths. Therefore, warm people achieve balance by "weeding," since they have too much growing. Small things like cleaning out a closet, canceling a magazine subscription, or taking a load of clothes to the Salvation Army provide balance. Cool people achieve it by "watering and feeding," since they don't have enough growing. Their small tasks are buying flowers each week for the kitchen table, hanging curtains, and inviting a few friends over for a drink now and then. Both types should start slowly— a little bit goes a long way.

I am a warm person. I learned this more than ten years ago when Marre, my next-door neighbor, walked into my first apartment in New York City's Little Italy and told me I had too much stuff. Knowing she was a furniture designer, I had invited her over to show off some new shelves I had built. Instead of being impressed with my shelves, she said, "Why do you have so many things in your apartment?"

I was embarrassed. In my view, her apartment was minimal and Spartan. I felt that she just didn't understand me. I told her that I didn't have too much, that I had everything I needed and it was all carefully arranged. My apartment resembled a ship where everything was tucked into place.

"You have no empty space," she pointed out. "I can tell that when you do have an empty space, you fill it. Why?"

This was true. I considered any open space an opportunity for inserting something useful. I had built shelves in an old doorway, created a pulley system for my computer screen that lifted it up to the ceiling, and managed to insert a large drafting table into one corner, which I used as my second desk. I was very good at finding a use for any space.

"Why don't you take some things out and open up the space? It would look much better if you did."

What? Take something out? I thought this would be a death blow. Everything I owned was a prized possession. I had long considered my use of space an achievement and liked how everything worked perfectly. But I was forced to reconsider.

Marre's apartment, despite its severity, had a calmness and openness to it that my apartment lacked. Her apartment was smaller and yet it felt bigger. It was comfortable to sit in Marre's kitchen, and people naturally gravitated to her apartment to talk. She was right. My apartment wasn't carefully arranged, it was packed. There was no breathing room. It may have seemed functional, but it was crowded and required a lot of attention.

My life at the time was the same. I was struggling to write a master's thesis, feeling no momentum or excitement about it, and my relationship with my girlfriend was languishing. Working on my apartment seemed, on the surface, to be a healthy form of procrastination, but after considering Marre's comments, I started to see all of this activity as a big, warm security blanket. My home was my protection, my pacifier, and it was doing a good job. My life lacked movement and energy. With Marre's words, something clicked/

I began to experiment with removing objects from my apartment. I got rid of a chair. I took out the drafting table. I threw out a pile of old, mismatched dishes and mugs. What began as a trickle turned into a torrent, and over the next few months I emptied half of my apartment. As I did this my work habits changed, and the energy that I had previously put into creating and maintaining my home redirected itself into my work. I finished my thesis feeling good about it. Soon after, my relationship came to an amicable end, and we were both relieved.

Why Therapy?

Most people who are dissatisfied with their homes don't realize where the problems really lie. As in my experience with my old apartment in Little Italy, it is very hard to get perspective on problems that are right un- der your nose. Homes are tremendously personal spaces that don't lend themselves easily to clear vision. This is why I refer to my work as Apartment Therapy: when you work on your home, you are working on yourself, and when you change your home, you are changing yourself.

But be prepared! There is a reason why your apartment is the way it is. The home you live in contains a lot more than your belongings; it contains old energy and emotions that will be stirred up, which may surprise you if you are not prepared. One client, Amelia, delved into a drawer of photographs that had never been organized and found pictures of her old boyfriend, with whom she had had a painful breakup. With the tears and self-doubt that flooded the room for the next two hours, I was sure our project was over. Opening this box at that particular time in the project was a mistake. I have since learned not only to prepare clients for bumps like this, but also how to avoid the worst pitfalls.

One way to be successful is to know what to expect. Whether you are a warm or cool person, if you are unhappy with your home it is usually because the energy inside is blocked. When you go about opening it up, there will be a period where all of this stuck energy loosens and flows, stirring up all kinds of emotions. This can be highly unpleasant. You may find yourself thinking, "I can't do this—I am making things worse," or "This is going to be too expensive, and I don't deserve it." Then there is the urge for flight: "This is too much work; it would be easier just to move." Don't listen to any of it!

With the right coaching, the lethargy that surrounds this type of home improvement gives way to excitement and momentum. Big change is not impossible. It just takes patience.

Story: Letting Go of the Past, Embracing the Future

Fifteen years ago my aunt Eleanor, at the age of sixty-five, told us she was preparing for her death. "Hold on!" I thought at the time. "What is this morbid plan and what is she up to?" Strangely, this announcement did not have to do with the usual reasons: sickness, old age, or loneliness. It had to do with too many books.

Eleanor's library was remarkable. The biggest in the family, it was a combination of my grandmother's books and her own, which easily filled a hundred boxes. However, she had moved a number of times recently and had come to look on her most prized possession—her library—as her biggest burden. It was the heaviest thing she owned and the most expensive to move. After this last move, she decided it was too much. Holding on to all these books was doing more harm than good. It was time to give away her library.

Initially pained by the thought, Eleanor had come to see letting go of her books as an opportunity to come to terms with the first part of her life and prepare for the rest. She was not morbid about it; she was excited. She was eager to be free from all the weight and burden that she had created and carried around for her first sixty-five years.

First, she took out her most essential books, those that formed the DNA of her library. These she would keep. She limited herself to one box. Then she gave small selections to every member of our family before inviting close friends to come over and take a book for themselves. The rest of the collection was given to her local library.

Giving away the books was just the beginning. Eleanor also decided to clear away all the emotional clutter that involved friends and family. Over the next year, she had a number of intense and gratifying conversations with her children, ex-husband, and other family members. She also met with close friends and spoke truthfully with them. To finish, she straightened out her business affairs and sold off investments that had been languishing for some time.

Having made these changes, Eleanor found that her life entered a new phase. She was happier and more active than ever. Her discovery and the powerful act of giving away her possessions made me look at my life differently at a much younger age.

Today, I love books, but I keep my collection small and regularly work at editing my shelves. Due to my aunt, I learned that we don't need books as much as we need what is in them: their inspiration for the future.

Copyright © 2006 by Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan. Excerpted by permission of Bantam, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Author

"One part interior designer, one part life coach," Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan is the founder of Apartment Therapy, a unique interior design practice in the New York metropolitan area. In April 2004, Maxwell, with his brother Oliver, launched apartmenttherapy.com, now one of the most popular and influential design weblogs in the country.