Danshari is the Japanese word for decluttering, which actually consists of three components -
Another useful Japanese phrase is the aesthetic of "Ma" (間)—creating meaningful empty space between objects to allow your mind and eyes to rest.
I have been thinking about the comparison between the removal of unnecessary items around me and instead applying this process to my brain.
Let me explain. My mental health issues were still causing chaos, disordered thoughts, hyper-sensitive emotions, inability to problem solve and feelings of worthlessness. The whole nine yards.
I had to change my reactions to the stresses that was threatening to derail this much needed break. I couldn't change the circumstances but I could change my responses.
Hence the idea to use the principles of Danshari to 're-calibrate' my brain.
So I set about creating compartments to disentangle myself from the circumstances I couldn't control.
The first compartment was for the trials of using Mailchimp. This internet tool began as free and I used Mailchimp for years to send over four hundred emails of my Gallery newsletter every month or so. Then Mailchimp began charging a fee, not huge, but living as pensioners, every dollar counts. Plus I had never really understood all its functions, such as adding more contacts to the mailing list. And, the time of writing the newsletter, adding photographs with captions was taking anywhere between three to six hours. I decided that I needed to delete my account.
And that process was a disaster. I believe Mailchimp deliberately makes account deletion almost impossible. After trying to reset my password three times (as naturally I forget passwords as a matter of course), I was a mess.
Since then, Mailchimp has sent me detailed instructions how to complete deletion but I decided I will tackle that process when I am ready. Which is not at the moment. So we just have to stomach paying for a service I will never use again.
I apologise to those readers of my newsletter but I just don't have the energy for this task anymore.
The next compartment is for the seemingly endless Subdivision of our building, now in its fourth year. Delays and changes have caused a never-ending tale of woe. Michael and I have both suffered from mental health issues as a result and taken turns trying to understand all the players, the processes and the timeline.
The completion date for this Subdivision is next April. I was becoming so anxious that any of my thoughts concerning the Subdivision would leave me in a distressed heap. Hence the need to lock this situation away whilst we are on this break.
A third compartment could be for the reporting of a rort we fell for back in May. We paid $125 for an online consultation with a supposed specialist who never materialised. At the time, I reported this issue to ANZ, gave them the details of the date and time, the amount, the account that took our money and then waited for our refund.
ANZ's responses could be an episode of the "Keystone Cops" if it had not become so frustrating. They have repeatedly asked for 'more documentation'. There is none. This farce resembles the infamous days of the KYC debacle. Vicky Brady, if anybody brings our measly $125 refund plus $25 for pain and suffering, we would be sincerely grateful. I am pretty sure that ANZ could afford to grant us this refund, given their profit margins. However, I doubt our refund will ever happen.
So, instead, I am not even giving this situation a compartment. I am throwing this directly into a virtual bin, as that is exactly where ANZ's behaviour deserves to be.
As ANZ doesn't have a compartment at all, I am using one for my daughter, Vanessa. I have not spoken to her for four years (if my calculations are correct) and I do miss her dreadfully. But she is on her own journey which I can't share. If I think about her too much, I am consumed by grief and guilt, even though I have no idea what led to our estrangement. That is why I am so bloody grateful for my boys.
There is a final compartment which is quite difficult to explain. My brother Michael was recently admitted to hospital after his daughter (I assume that was Rebecca) found him on the floor of his unit. Michael is nearly sixty-nine years old. Apparently, he has since been discharged from hospital, but this situation has really shaken me.
Michael was so much more than a brother to me when we were children. He was my playmate, my soulmate and my protector. Our mother was chaotic and often just unreachable. If I was frightened or sad or worried, I would go to Michael, often during the night as I was truly scared of the dark. The thought of waking up our mother was untenable.
From my point of view, I believe our mother harmed us all, Michael the most. He left as soon as he could, ending up in Far North Queensland after a stint working around Australia. A marriage and a long term relation, children, moving around, building a house outside Cooktown and supporting a granddaughter, along with his partner Jenny seemed to provide him with purpose.
Then, over time, his life fell apart. I am not saying that Michael was blameless. I think he was his own worst enemy and if he could, bear some responsibility for the the littered lives around him. I just don't believe he can think that rationally anymore.
My greatest shame is that I have lost touch with him, along with two of his his daughters and one of his grandchildren. I assume he is still living in the unit in Cooktown, but as he has no computer and often no mobile, he is almost impossible to contact. I once phoned the local Cooktown police to undertake a welfare check on him so I could find out if he was alive and talk to him.
I have seen him a few times over recent years, once is Melbourne (when his partner Jenny was dying) twice in Far North Queensland, the second time for Jenny's funeral.
However, even if I did have regular contact with him, what would we talk about? My life and his life are poles apart. Apart from his eyes, there is nothing left of the Michael I once knew and loved. That has made me terribly sad.
Hence, I have had to place his life and my grief for him in a final compartment. All my life, I have believed in the concept of loving families. Except for Michael and me, time passed almost imperceptibly and was the unrecognised villain. And I use that word quite deliberately.
In my opinion, we all need to share in the lives of our families. If we ever have enough money, I would like the chance to touch base with David, Simon and even Michael, just to let them know they do matter to me. Along with my children and grandchildren, who with my beloved Michael, are the essence of my life.
No photographs with this post. Just my thoughts and my beliefs.
And hoping I can use Danshari in my brain whenever I have the need once more.
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