Back around the time I was going to turn 40 (this was 8 years ago now) I started to feel the urge to make massive changes in my physical life. I was making changes around me in my personal life and well, that wasn’t going smoothly. Unless you count that fact that absolutely no one would talk to me so I guess I didn’t actually have to do anything but tell people I was done trying to reach out after months and months and even years of one sided relationships. (They didn’t care. Not one person I tried to talk to, bothered to talk to me. I asked for time with people over and over, they either ignored me, talked over me, or just outright blocked me.)
*There was a woman who I only heard from when she wanted something and when I told her how hurtful it was she never had time to hang out with me, but always had time for others as the photos were always posted on social media, she blocked me lol*
SO yeah, it wasn’t going super great. There were other things in my home life I was also trying to deal with and that also was not going well, so I turned to my material life. I think the need for a distraction played a huge part of my initial motivation and unfortunately due to dealing with so many things and continuing to do things for others (which I shouldn’t have, that was one of my many mistakes back then) the project fell to the wayside until a few years later. But it still continues now. It’s likely to be ongoing I imagine, but the biggest steps I’ve taken have happened the last four years.
Now when I first started to downsize and refocus I was living in a 2000 sq. ft. townhouse. And I am definitely a maximalist. Even now I’d say that I am, but I also started to feel this deep need to send many things off to live other lives.
But I was determined not to make much trash in doing so. Most of my life, the majority of things I’ve owned have been second hand. Even my “new” things (things still with tags or in boxes) often came from thrift stores/vintage stores/secondhand. I expect part of this is because when you grow up as poor as I did second hand things are all you really know and the new things only go to your mentally ill mother with her need to spend every dollar on Precious Moments rather than say, the electric bill. Now I did on occasion get “new” things. But I am talking about when you could buy $3 white canvas tennis shows from Walgreens and those were your shoes for a year or more whether they fit or not and my gawd they would smell so bad no matter how hard you tried to wash them.
I definitely inherited her fondness of small things(much less so these days).
However, I did generally pay my bills first before buying anything and often hers as well. I did also sometimes pay her bills instead of mine because otherwise the other kids living in the house would have to do without. They largely don’t know this (my siblings) and basically think I’ve never done anything for them so that’s another fun piece of this puzzle of dysfunction.
The other piece is my father, but that is a story too long for anyone to care to read at this point. Suffice to say he was giant piece of human garbage. GIANT. Probably continues to be. Who knows. My mother is dead. He is not so far as I know. Fingers crossed though.
My mother was definitely a hoarder as a lot of poor, mentally ill people tend to be and she certainly fit the bill.
I also was forced to leave home when I was sixteen years old and I had nothing to my name. Only the clothes I was wearing and I’m not even sure they were mine.
Anyway. It started off easy enough. Being someone who entertained people multiple times a week and that also included going out to clubs, bars, dinners etc..I had massive piles of clothes. I mean you used to be able to get an awesome top at the thrift store for $0.99. Those days are gone now, but back when this all started it was still possible.
When I got my first apartment “alone” (people were crashing there, dumping their stuff, and leaving their kids to force me to babysit all the time) in my early 20’s I had pretty much nothing. I slept on a single twin mattress on the floor that my former employer gave me and I had some clothes. (I had previously shared an apartment with two girls I met by way of answering an ad. Just imagine that now? Anyhow, I had some furniture when I lived there that was also from my former employer, but it was pretty broken down and I didn’t have a way to move it once it was in place. It ended up being left behind when the girls I was living with just randomly told me they wanted me to move out and their friend to move in. (Without any warning, about two weeks so that was nice.)
I was really starting from nothing.
It’s wild to think about my pass situations now that I’ve been getting rid of stuff. And on more than one occasion as life has stressed me out beyond all fuck, having nothing but a suitcase and a purse feels pretty tempting at times. These last five years especially have made me feel like not sitting still much. People and events have been extracting a price from me I am beyond tired of paying and I don’t really have anything tying me to any place. The overall world is also exhausting and not being able to ever affect any change makes you just want to give up. I have no illusion that I will ever make a difference in this world. And accepting your disposability to everyone and everything is an interesting feeling. Slightly disheartening, slightly freeing.
But it certainly doesn’t make you feel like setting up house anywhere anymore, especially when that has also been taken advantage of and then destroyed by forces out of your control.
So, these seeming random thoughts turned into what I think was becoming my motivation to do this downsizing. In reality it just gets down to wanting to have some control over something in your immediate life and specifically when everything else is making you miserable.
When everything else is complicated and no one cares how you feel, you really just don’t care about dusting all the time. But you do definitely feel like organizing, and making your life as simple as you can. I’m not to where I want to be, but I am also not entirely sure what that means yet as I continue on this path.
I read that a lot of women just get overwhelmed. And many don’t have particularly helpful in this department partners. I read that men don’t care about clutter and it doesn’t bother them which explains some offices and garages I’ve seen in my time.
If you have kids, this is also even more tricky cuz you don’t want to feel like your throwing away important milestones.
My bf’s mother saved literally every single thing he ever did in elementary school. Everything. It was insane. From permission slips to everyday ditto sheets, everything. Not just special projects. I don’t know if this is normal. My parents did not save these things. At least not my things. I don’t think I’d have anything if one of my sisters hadn’t saved from the trash a very old photo album that I had no idea it even existed. If I saw it growing up, I have no recollection of it. But I do have it now. Nothing else though. And that’s crazy, because as mentioned earlier my mother was a hoarder. I have no idea what happened to all her stuff after she died. Everyone treated me like I was gonna rob them of all her crap when I asked about it so I just don’t care. I even asked for one thing of hers to possibly wear jewelry wise because I did buy her jewelry when I was older, but no one would give me anything. Needless to say, my family has many issues with owning stuff and money. The relationships we each had with our parents are beyond dysfunctional and the relationship our parents had with money would probably give an accountant a stroke.
Additionally watching how other people treat each other over money and material things is pretty wild. During Covid with moving house and not really going anywhere, I started to become unattached to the things that I owned. Once things sit in boxes for years, you realize you don’t even care anymore besides just wanting to be free of the box and the frustration it represents. Many things were also getting broken and stolen by other people. I have yet to account for all that has happened the last 6 years since moving despite my best efforts.
I do have to take a moment to be honest right now and admit even to myself that my depression was about as bad as it had ever been when I moved here. Too many things were going wrong in my life(and the larger world) and too many people were mistreating me/lying to me/using me/stealing from me/etc… . I now think I was also dealing with suicidal feelings that can be brought on during perimenopause which I had absolutely no idea about until a couple years into the move into this house. I found myself planning how to get rid of everything so no one had to deal with it in the end. Rationally speaking planning what happens to your stuff after you die isn’t a terrible thing, but this was not what I was doing.
I didn’t have any support and I often still don’t. To be clear, I have no friends and no close family. I am someone people view as only an occasionally entertaining or useful resource.
This was a hard truth to accept and sometimes it still feels painful, but it is reality and being aware of it and understanding that is how it is and that is unlikely to change has helped me a bit.
Additionally, I did get some medical treatment that has helped me manage some of the symptoms I was suffering from significantly. It’s not perfect by any means and middle age is a bitch when you have no idea what’s happening to you, but it has alleviated some of the misery of it all. And as I continue to explain, sorting through all these material things has also helped. To a degree of which I have been surprised by I might add.
There are so many people I know who have so much stuff it actually shocks me(I also find myself wondering if this is a uniquely American problem).
They don’t get called hoarders because they have money and to a degree- space for it so it’s not met with the same stigma. But people keeping huge collections of crystal entertaining ware they are never going to use is super strange to me at this point. It’s not making anyone *happy* all this stuff. Even if you are a “stuff” person it’s not what makes you feel better. Mostly I see reactions to trauma now(and on the flip side extreme minimalism is both a privilege {YES!} and also a reaction to trauma).
I certainly like to collect things, but I also now understand what it means not to let it collect me. Of course, our culture worships money and material goods. The ultra wealthy have houses upon houses and even warehouses full of stuff. What’s more is I know many people aspire to this, I wonder if I did at some point? I don’t recall ever wanting a warehouse full of clothing, but I have certainly had a lot of it in my adult life(as a kid, not so much).
There was one thing I was determined to do through this process that I am not sure a lot of people prioritize which is somewhat problematic in this overconsumption culture and that is: I was/am determined to keep as much out of the trash as possible. I am someone who when I do own something, whatever it is, either it gets used till it’s no longer salvageable or I take good enough care of it, that it can go live with someone else. I have additionally cut back greatly on the amount of stuff I do buy. It’s been years since I’ve been in a thrift store to shop for clothing. I have been to donate many times though. And I should mention a thrift store is not the only way I shed belongings. I will explain that more at a later date.
There is more I could add, but what I am telling you at this point is if you want to have a better relationship with your belongings and house, you have to find your reasons to get it done and you have to carve out that time no matter what. And honestly, this is true with everything in life. Changing your relationship with your material life is no different than changing your relationship with anything or anyone. It requires, time, persistence, and patience with complicated feelings. And yes, the feelings do get very complicated at times.
Plus, you do end up with reasons you don’t expect and sometimes other reasons that feel uncontrollable.
But that is okay and it’s just gonna take a bit more time to work through it.
