How to create space … in your life (and in your room)

I snapped on Sunday. The vintage red Giant bike I purchased from a thrift store for $99 in Boston and then refurbished had to go. For the past 10 months, it’s perched against the wall in the corner of my (tiny) bedroom.

For the past 10 months I’ve been deciding what to do with it. Refill the now-deflated front tire and ride it regularly? Hang it somewhere? Take the wheels off and attempt to store it under my bed or above my closet? Lock it up outside and hope for the best? Sell it?

For the past 10 months I’ve remained paralyzed by indecision and my trusty bike has remained tucked away in the corner, alternating as a towel rack and a these-clothes-need-to-go-to-the-dry-cleaners rack.

Until Sunday.

On Sunday, it all had to go. I dug through boxes of old papers, bank statements, receipts, and books. Save, toss, give away. I turned worn out t-shirts into rags. I removed one of the shelves to create more empty space on my bookshelf. And I hung bike on the wall.

I decided on Saturday I would hang the bike, but instead cleaned my entire room. I wanted to make sure I didn’t need anything else from the store before heading out.

On Sunday, I purchased the mounting hooks, I charged the drill, I called my dad for final advice, I got out the ladder. I started knocking on the wall to find the studs. The wall is plaster, which makes finding the studs extra hard. Drat. A friend texted and I climbed down from the ladder to check the message. 15 minutes I was still chatting with that friend. I’d gotten up a few times to knock on the wall some more. I was still unsure exactly where the studs were, but knocking felt like I was doing something.

My dad called back to see how it went. I hadn’t drilled yet.

“Just do it,” he said. “You can always patch up the hole if you mess up.”

I hung up. I knocked a few more times on the wall. I climbed up on the ladder and pressed the drill into the wall. I moved over a bit and drilled the second hole. This time, I hit something I couldn’t drill through. My roommate mentioned that. Crap.

Knock on the wall some more. Pick another spot. Drill.

The drill slowed to a stop. What now? How was the battery already dead?? Oh, I forgot to swap in the freshly charged battery.

Climb down from the ladder, change the batter, climb back up.

Start drilling again. This time, I got in again. The plaster/wire/wood mesh is thick so it’s difficult to determine if you hit a stud.

I put the hooks in anyway, set the bike on them, and it held easily.

That was much easier than I imagined.

With a clear floor, an uncluttered bookshelf, and the space previously occupied by the bike now free, my room feels like a completely different room. It feels spacious, it feels HUGE.

Something about my mind changed too.

I feel different when I’m in the room.

Open,

spacious,

free.

My mind is no longer occupied with stepping over the clothes on the floor, sneaking around the bike handle, reaching between the wheels to plug in my phone.

I can even dance around in my room now, something I haven’t done since childhood.

I am reminded that there is an intimate connection between my mind and my body. What I eat matters, how I hold my body, and the environment in which my body resides all make a difference.

I’m a process person. To create space in my life, my impulse is to reflect and meditate, then to think, then to plan, probably to create some sort of list of action items. I want to solve everything in my own head.

The answer, it seems, is much simpler: Pick up the drill, press it to the wall, and go for it even when I’m scared.