Jennifer Hofmann Inspired Home Office © 2014 This graphic is intentionally small to save your printer ink.:) 1 Inspired Home Office: The Book First edition Copyright 2014 Jennifer E. Hofmann, Inspired Home Office All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recorded, or otherwise without written permission by the author. This publication contains the opinion and ideas of the author. It is intended to provide helpful and informative material on the subject matter covered, and is offered with the understanding that the author is not engaged in rendering professional services in this publication. If the reader requires legal, financial or other professional assistance or advice, a qualified professional should be consulted. No liability is assumed with respect to the use of the information contained herein. Although every precaution has been taken to produce a high quality, informative, and helpful book, the author makes no representation or warranties of any kind with regard to the completeness or accuracy of the contents of the book. The author specifically disclaims any responsibility for any liability, loss or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, from the use and application of any of the contents of this publication. Jennifer Hofmann Inspired Home Office 3705 Quinaby Rd NE Salem, OR 97303 www.inspiredhomeoffice.com 2 Table of Contents Introduction................................................................................................................... 4 Chapter 1: My organizing story......................................................................................6 Chapter 2: Self-care and compassion ..........................................................................19 Chapter 3: Decluttering................................................................................................ 36 Chapter 4: Creativity and Managing Time...................................................................81 Chapter 5: Organizing................................................................................................. 106 Chapter 6: Projects......................................................................................................135 Chapter 7: Space Management...................................................................................154 Chapter 8: Technology Management.........................................................................196 Chapter 9: Befriending Your Brain ............................................................................210 Chapter 10: What comes next.....................................................................................220 Special Thanks............................................................................................................ 222 About Jen..................................................................................................................... 223 3 Introduction A manifesto for cluttered creatives You have the right to express yourself to live your life as you see fit to say no and mean it to say yes with your whole being to what you love You have the right to your own creative space to draw a real or imaginary line around your domain and claim it for yourself to a door that closes to absolute silence when you need it You have the right to spread out to interact with your ideas and those images and words that inspire you to see them You were born with to touch them and doodle in the margins gifts, talents, and until the messages seep into your bones and become your own abilities that the You have a right to a sacred space that is free from intrusions world needs. that is free from guilt that completely supports your spirit that is truly sacred space - powerful as an ancient circle of standing stones 4 Your have a right to fully inhabit your body and treat it with loving care to a good night’s sleep, to clean teeth, warm hugs, and supportive ears You have a right to a healthy relationship with yourself to choose gentleness to change to grow more deeply into your magnificent self to learn to be your own best friend Your have a right to a space that allows you to become who you are that helps you visualize your dreams so you can bring them to life that celebrates your gifts and all your senses Because when you can hear your own deepest knowing, self-criticism dissolves and in finding your voice, you are better able to hear others You have a right to contribute something valuable to the world You were born with gifts, talents, and abilities that the world needs While the world hungers for compassion, for wisdom, for beauty, for healing your space gives you the grounding you need if you choose to courageously offer yourself You have a right to be here, in this world, at this time in history Despite the risks of living, breathe deeply and trust that you are safe You are loved You belong This life you've been given is a gift and each day, you can find gratitude and new courage to live it with a full heart 5 Chapter 1: My organizing story Where I started Childhood clutter Miss Laws frowned, her wrinkled face creasing deeper as she stood over my desk. In front of my fifth-grade classmates, she called me out. “Jennifer? Where is your assignment?” My mouth went dry. “Umm...” Averting my eyes, I began to flip wildly through my social studies book – although the assignment wasn't in here and I knew it. In fact, it was at home, not entirely completed. Many years would pass before I learned that textbooks do not make good filing cabinets. Old tests and corrected papers, absentmindedly folded in half, were stuck between the last page and heavy-duty cover, smelling faintly of ditto ink and old glue. There I also tucked new homework sheets, making them indistinguishable from the others, and promptly forgotten. Under the requisite cover of a brown paper bag, I had created a hidden storage system fraught with distress. You can probably guess where this pattern led to in my young academic career. “It's in here somewhere,” I lied and flipped some more. Some of my classmates started to whisper. Miss Laws hovered, holding her breath. To tell the truth was unthinkable. I couldn't even imagine admitting that, unlike the rest of my peers, I couldn't complete assignments on time or even remember to hand them in. In my 11-year-old mind, this was an unforgivable failure I had to conceal any way possible. 6 Her frown deepened along with her disbelief. I upped the ante. “It was just here a minute ago. I really don't know where it went,” I said with my To tell the voice shaking. I wished the assignment would magically appear, completed. I wished I could make myself so small as to be invisible. I wished that one of scruffy- truth was looking bad boys in my class would pull a stunt to distract her. Something. Anything. unthinkable. While she waited, her sturdy taupe shoes planted firmly beside my desk, I flipped dramatically through my TrapperKeeper without producing the absent document. I scooted back my plastic chair, metal legs scraping on the floor, and nose dived into my desk which bulged with paper. I began the messy process of unpacking it all on to my desktop in this fruitless search for the missing homework. Anything but telling the truth: I was a perfectionist who couldn't manage to be perfect. This near-hysterical dog-and-pony show developed slowly over the years and became my tactic to manage the escalating pressure to perform in school. I utterly baffled my teachers. Here was a smart, lively, and engaged student – where was the disconnect? Why couldn't she complete her assignments? “When you get to middle school,” my sixth-grade teacher informed me, “the subjects will be harder and you'll have a lot more homework. Your teachers won't have time to hold your hand.” This was somehow supposed to motivate me, but it only added to my feelings of anxiety and helplessness. He summed up by making this pronouncement: “You've got to figure out how to get your act together.” By high school, my teachers were apathetic at best about my poor performance. Somewhere mid-semester, I remember a round-headed, bald science teacher looking up over his gold-rimmed glasses from his grade book, making eye contact with me, and without even asking, he marked an X for the day's assignment. I was an X. 7 Looking back, I know these good people had simply tired of my failure to produce, for appearing not to care enough to complete my work, and were trying to spare me the misery of my hysterical, fruitless book flipping. The bottom line? Their impatience, cajoling, and sparing me never solved the underlying issue: I didn't know how to get organized and I didn't allow myself to ask for help. I didn't even know what kind of help I needed. Because of this, it would take me decades to get organized. My sixth-grade teacher's comment would turn out to be prophetic: I would have to figure out how to get my act together on my own. But once I did, miracles happened. Embarrassing errors Did I mention it would take me decades? I'll never forget the day my high-school best friend called me and shook my world. “So, how was your weekend at my parents' house?” She asked, her voice sounding odd. “At your parents'?” I trailed off. And then I remembered. With a sickening jolt, I remembered how her folks had gone away for the weekend and asked me to feed their dog and cat for two nights. I had completely forgotten. I'd written nothing down from our phone conversation a week earlier and it completely slipped my mind. “Oh God, Leah,” I stammered. “Oh my God. Are they okay?” I was mortified. I'd left these two sweet animals alone and stranded without food or water for three days. This was unforgivable. “Well, they were in the garage and they pooped on the floor, but they seem to be fine.” Needless to say, I apologized profusely, but was never again asked to house sit. I was deeply shaken. This error revealed to me a frightening side of my disorganization and forgetfulness in which other beings could be harmed. I felt deeply ashamed, but still utterly unaware that a solution was possible.