May 8, 2012 § 3 Comments
I used to consider myself a minimalist. A few weeks ago when we were living in Pasadena still, I began to realize how much I really had. So much that I didn’t feel like moving it for the fourteenth time in five years. Who wouldn’t?
In March, a pen found its way into the washer and ruined many of my favorite clothing items. I tried a couple techniques to get the black splotches out, but even then they just turned to brown. I ended up tossing out what was a lost cause and making use of the other t-shirts, tanks, and pants that I already had.
Even after what I threw out, I still had more than most.
“This is kind of depressing,” I thought to myself, “I still didn’t lose that much considering and I’m okay. I am not a minimalist.”
In that moment, it hit me that I still wasn’t living how I thought was best in my own head. Best in the sense that I know I do well with less. With as little as possible. My mind gets too cluttered with more and my focus turns to stuff rather than what’s important.
Before I was with Trever–although we had already met and hung out before–I went on a trip with my dad to Vegas. It was February 2006, a cold and blistery winter in the tacky city. My dad asked me where I was going with my life and I told him,
“I don’t know, but I do know that I don’t want a lot. I want to live somewhere that I don’t have to drive and fit my life into two boxes.”
It would only be a little over a month until I found myself doing just that. I was moving to Perth, Australia, with a backpack–a backpack that recently got moldy and, not gonna lie, I was sad–to a place with glorious public transportation and a melting pot of beautiful people.
Fast forward over five years and here I am married with two adorable children and a whole lot more stuff. After our whole mold mishap (see parts one, two, and three), I told myself enough was enough. We had to take two truckloads of our belongings piled three feet high to the city dump.
Besides that, we packed up two garbage bags with clothes and only kept necessities. Each day since we have moved in, I’ve been trying to organize and put stuff in the goodwill pile. A box of unused dishes, craft and office supplies that just sit there, stuffed animals that are keepsakes that mean nothing to me.
Most of my clothes were moldy, so I’ve just repurchased or been given what I need. I told my friend Megan in April that I wanted to memorize what I had. Self-fulfilling prophesy. Encouraged by Miss Minimalist (aka Rachel) to have 100 possessions, here’s what’s in my drawers:
1 pair of shorts
3 night time shorts
2 pairs of sweats
6 pairs of socks
1 sports bra
2 swimping suits (yes, swimping)
3 pairs of shoes (because the other pairs got yucky, boo!)
When I write out that list I still feel like I have a lot. I can fit most of it into two sock drawers. I’ve got issues. Haha. I’m addicted to the feeling of having less and being in control with what I do have. Just enough.
Thank you to all of those who helped us move, have us clothing, food, and fulfilled other needs. And, of course, to those who provided moral support. We love and appreciate you all.