The benefits of Swedish death cleaning

Dr Liz Charalambous is a Registered Nurse and Assistant Professor at the University of Nottingham. She has worked in Healthcare of the Older Person in Acute Medicine for many years as a Registered Nurse and has an interest in dementia care and delirium prevention. She posts on X @lizcharalambou

I am getting old. Age has crept up on me despite thinking I would stay young. I understand it is a privilege to get old (considering the alternative), and recently received news that friends and colleagues of a similar age to me have sadly died and no longer have this privilege. Nevertheless, I still feel about 20 but am reminded this isn’t the case when I look in the mirror. Dodgy knees and painful wrists are now the daily norm. Having nursed older people for the majority of my 40-year nursing career, this has been a usual conversation from patients, but nowadays I find myself on the other side of this conversation.

I am proudly Generation X with a baby boomer husband. We grew up in the 70s when ‘stuff’ was thin on the ground, and I had a Saturday job from the age of 13 to get some cash. Then the 80s arrived and we were faced with rampant consumerism. The background noise in my head says, ‘don’t throw anything away, it might come in handy, it might be worth something one day’.

To add to this, I cleared out my parents’ house over 20 years ago and kept things of enormous emotional value as I worked though the grieving process while coming to terms with my own ageing and imminent mortality. Having evolved through the analogue age to a digital landscape, everything is online. I don’t need DVDs, videos, cassette tapes, vinyl, 35mm cameras, or Walkmans. Even TVs are becoming redundant as entertainment now is a singular activity rather than a communal one, with the advent of handheld devices. As such I am now drowning in ‘stuff’. The kids don’t want any of it either as the new millennials seem to live a monastic, nomadic existence. I don’t want to pass on emotional baggage parcelled up in belongings, so have cast my net wide to find a solution.

Döstädning, or Swedish death cleaning, has come to my attention recently. This is the notion that a person should sort their personal belongings in the event of their death, so loved ones are spared the burden of it all. It has captured my imagination while future proofing my home, including the installation of a downstairs toilet, and I have been prompted to have a clear-out.

The challenges are letting go emotionally of ‘stuff’ as well as the physical burden of moving things and disposing of them. There are some good tips online, including tackling non-emotive objects first, such as clothes, rubbish, and duplicate items. There are personal accounts online and lots of practical tips and hints on how to get started. Instead of asking: will I use this again? or do I need it? I ask myself ‘if I didn’t have this, would I immediately go out and buy it again?’ Does it 'spark joy' ? The relief is immense; I am now in a position where I can let things go.

Some things are difficult and will take longer than others. For example, when clearing out under the kitchen sink, I found the paperwork from when I adopted my rescue dog. I sadly lost her two years ago, but the emotional pull was real. We sat down with a cuppa and had some time remembering the good times, pondering over how the years have passed by. Then I was able to let it all go.

At a macro level, I suspect governments might not want to encourage everyone to start decluttering, as landfills are already full and a sudden surge of rubbish would be disastrous for local councils. I still feel guilty about damaging the environment and try to dispose of things carefully. Recycling is useful. We’ve done about 10 charity shop runs so I feel good that someone, somewhere, will enjoy my china and crystal glasses which are no longer needed while generating much-needed money for good causes. But I still have a long way to go. Letting go of a lifetime of belongings takes time. But I am happy to know I am not it leaving it to my children to sort out as they have busy lives too.

The message is that we should probably talk about death more often, and plan retirement, pensions, and wills. It is probably the last taboo, and my recent decluttering has been met with blank looks from some people as they prefer to avoid the subject. Nevertheless, I feel it is healthy to start conversations around death, and the realities of the ageing process such as reduced mobility, cognitive impairment, and incontinence. There’s the possibility that we might need to move from a much-loved family home to sheltered accommodation, and we need to confront the associated conversations around finances . It’s much better to discuss this when people are cognitively able, rather than accompanied by the pain of trying to guess what the older person might have wanted.

I feel fortunate that I am aware I am entering my autumn years and that I am physically and mentally fit enough to embrace this new chapter in my life. I also feel fortunate that I have a lifetime of nursing experience working with older people who have given me this gift of anticipation and awareness of the reality of older age. ‘Hope for the best, plan for the worst’ is now my mantra. Holiday planning is underway as the bucket list is ready and kicking. I’m entering the other side of the relationship as I move from nurse to older person. I’m still working as a nurse but anticipate the imminent change and can recommend this healthy outlook as I feel more energised, lighter, positive, and in control. After all, none of us will live forever, and who would want to? I’m having a clear-out instead and am shortly off to Greece.