when i moved from my condo in burlington, vt i still had a good bit of stuff. again, by most american household standards, it was not a lot, but especially by my current standards it was, to use the official minimalist term, a shit ton.
i pride myself on being an exceptional thrifter, and everything in that condo (save the couch, 1 side table, silverware, & a couple picture frames) was second hand. for years i scavenged thrift stores & tag sales & had accumulated quite a beautiful collection of home goods, decorations, furniture, etc.
except for a few pieces of furniture (bed, desk, dresser, & a couple side tables) i was glad to get rid of nearly everything when i moved. my thought process had always been that I’d buy it for cheap, use it for a few years, & donate it back to my favorite thrift store for them to resell. along with gifting things to friends, i unloaded most of my belongings this way.
for years i justified keeping things by the fact i had bought them at a thrift store. in vermont some of these were private owned, but by funky awesome people, or goodwill, which has some programs & initiatives i support. at home, the thrift store either support community services (an umbrella organization that provides oodles of amazing, life-changing services) or the boys & girls club.
(quick side rant: fuck the salvation army. i will never support them in any way. they are queerphobic pieces of shit.)
the things i bought were inexpensive and were supporting organizations & causes i like, it felt like a win win.
except i was slowly drowning in my piles of stuff.
this helped me realize that just because something didn’t cost a lot of money, doesn’t mean it’s okay for it to be taking up space in my life. this also helped me connect to some of my insecurities and issues around money, because i realized how much more difficult it was for me to part with things that were expensive.
my therapist once told me to replace the word “money” with “mommy.” as in, “i need more mommy!” or “i’m so anxious about mommy.” it was a kind of funny way to recognize the ways in which our issues with money are actually issues deeply rooted in approval, insecurity, comfort, success, and ego.
i’ve talked in a previous post about money, & again, i recognize my privilege in the fact that i’ve never had to worry about money, not in a life-or-death, hunger-or-being-fed, i’m-worried-about-keeping-a-roof-over-my-head way. i do not mean to invalidate the very real & dangerous struggles associated with poverty.
but for the most part, once basic needs are being met, in a heady kinda way, money is bullshit. it’s not real. our economic systems are complex numbers and concepts floating around that are not even backed by gold anymore, but even if they were, are still imaginary systems of exchange. like seriously. take a step back. money. isn’t. even. real.
so why do we spend so much time worrying about it, working for it, using it to buy shit we literally do not need & do not bring us happiness—in fact many things actually make it more detached, less present, less healthy, and most importantly, less happy?
my relationship with my things began bringing up all sorts of anxiety about money. well, i got that for cheap so i should just keep it. it was a good buy, a steal! or on the opposite end of the spectrum, oh, that cost a lot of money, i should keep it because i invested in it. & my favorite—playing hypotheticals, well what if i need that down the road? what if i get rid of it now & need to buy a new one later? then i would’ve wasted money twice!
now, mind you, when i say “expensive” i’m not talking hundreds of dollars. i mean like a backpack for $25 or a pair of jeans for $40. these are not bank-breakers but i’m cautious about my spending. my grandmother saves and reuses envelopes (i was long ago trained to never write on or seal them when giving her a card) so thriftiness runs in my blood. i was literally defying genetic impulses when working through this stuff.
so for years my downsizing and purging would result in maybe a basket full of odd-and-ends, and a large trash bag full of clothes to be donated. nothing major, but i was plugging away.
& still buying.
see, here’s the thing, & this is what i see a lot of people encouraging. “clean out your closet so you have room for more!” “get rid of last year’s trends to make room for this year’s!” our culture has been catching on more & more to the idea of decluttering, of getting rid of our things—but the emphasis is largely on making room for new, not truly downsizing.
& in this way, i was actually wasting, & spending, a tremendous amount. i cannot even count the number of times i have brought something back to the thrift store, unused by me, with their tags still on it. now i’m not opposed to the boys & girls club making that $4 twice but the cycle was starting to feel absurd, and hypocritical. my house was becoming a constant flow of stuff in & out.
& yet i was still only using the same things, my favorite items.
but i let fear and a mentality of scarcity run my life. fear of getting rid of something only to later need or want it, anxiety about money, a mentality that if i got rid of that really funky sweater i thrifted a few year ago but rarely wore, i’d never find another one quite the same. i was feeling compelled to hoard these things, “just in case” or “just because.”
then i started to feel the energetic shift.
when i thought about keeping things i felt my energy clawing around them and clinging onto them, leaning on them as a false sense of security, belonging, ability, success, purpose, & inspiration.
buying things, looking at my things, being surrounded by beautiful things, being in a space full of things, moving things, storing things, organizing and reorganizing things, holding onto things i never used because i felt obligated for whatever reason, this all started to weigh on me.
even when it as in a clean, organized, well decorated space i could feel the extra basket of miscellaneous stuff, the jewelry box overstuffed with things i never wore, the closet taunting me with garments i couldn’t fit into or didn’t love, the floor teeming with various shoes and sandals & even an random pair of heels, prepared for a variety of situations i was unsure would ever even happen. i felt obligated to be ready for all sorts of hypotheticals, & was fearful of what would happen if i found myself ill-prepared for a set of circumstances.
it was really starting to impact my energetic and emotional health.
so my purges would get larger, my criteria for keeping items became stricter, & the lightness became addictive. i continued plugging away, going through my things every few months or even every couple weeks, or sporadically grabbing a few items that were bothering me & giving them away.
i was still stuck in an ebb & flow of getting rid of in order to get more, but i felt like i was getting closer. each object i introduced into my life was more specifically what i wanted, a better reflection of my aesthetic, values, lifestyle, and style. overall the number of possessions was in decline. i was feeling pretty damn good.
& yet this was still about a year or two ago…
(…to be continued…)
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