Minimalism seems to be popping up all over the place these days. I see it all over my Pinterest and Facebook feeds. It comes in lots of shapes and sizes: tiny houses, capsule wardrobes, home décor. If you haven’t been introduced to this trend yet, it’s all about having less, using less, discarding less. There’s lots of talk about decluttering and simplifying your life. All of which seems very attractive to me.
It feels like the tide of “things” in my life has turned.
For years, it was all about getting things – a house, a living room set, a dining room table, a car. And then it was about getting bigger and better things. A bigger house, a better living room set, a newer car.
And then the kids came along. That’s a crazy time in your life, and in an effort to make myself feel prepared, I accumulated things. I felt like I needed every bouncy, boppy, burpy item that I heard about. I wanted to be prepared for anything, and so I bought everything. The problem, as any parent can tell you, is that all the stuff in the universe can’t prepare you for being a parent. Lesson learned. If I had it all to do over again… But no, that is not, Not, NOT going to happen.
So now the shoe is on the other foot.
The kids have outgrown one thing after another for the past few years, and all of that stuff has to go somewhere.
I thought it would be easy to find places to donate my gently used items, but no. Turns out most of the donation boxes you see around town are pretty picky about what they’ll take. I once made a trip to the local thrift store, you know, the BIG one, to drop off a load of toys, books and games. I imagined the beaming smiles on the clerk’s face (who, in my mind, was going to be a lovely gray-haired cardigan-wearing granny) as I dropped these items off. As I left, she’d offer me a heart-felt teary-eyed thank you, assuring me that some deserving kids would be thrilled to have these items.
Yeah, that’s not exactly how it went.
The clerk was a beefy, surly man who looked like he selected his wardrobe entirely from the items that the thrift store had rejected. I’m guessing that personal hygiene wasn’t a big priority for him.
He spent a grand total of about 2 seconds looking over my treasures, and wearily informed me that I could unload it all over there, thumbing over his shoulder as he walked away.
I turned to look where he had pointed, and saw a MOUNTAIN of toys. Seriously, it was taller than me. Which, I know, isn’t usually saying much. But I’m serious when I say this pyramid of toys was over 5 feet tall, and probably 10 feet across the base. Had to be a hundred toys in there. And here I was with the beloved toys my kids had outgrown, slathered liberally with my precious memories. It took a LOT of self-control to leave it all behind. I hate to think that most of what I dropped off ended up in a dumpster, but I’ll bet that’s what happened.
Since then I’ve worked harder to find good places for these items. I’ve offered them up on Facebook, Craig’s List, by word of mouth. I’ve donated to the Epilepsy Foundation. I’ve given as much as possible to relatives with young ones. Anything to believe that these items are being loved and well used. It’s a worthwhile but slow effort.
At any given moment, my bedroom (which is the go-to place for unwanted items in my house) has at least a small pile of items that I need to find a home for. And it’s not just kid stuff. There are the clothes that I bought but never really liked; the knickknacks that I’ve grown tired of; the souvenirs that I can’t seem to resist picking up whenever I visit an interesting place; the books that I read once; the movies I watched once; etc., etc., etc. Honestly, every one of these purchases seemed to make sense at the time, but in retrospect, I wish I hadn’t bought most of it.
I’m tired of being surrounded by things I don’t want or need. It’s time to live smaller.
I’m taking a multi-pronged approach to this problem.
Prong 1: stop buying things.
On a rainy vacation day recently, my family and I wandered through the quaint shops in Old Port. There were at least a half dozen items that I thought about buying, but I resisted. Over the course of the day I came to appreciate the value of window shopping – you get to see the cool things, appreciate them, even snap a photo of them. I really got into the spirit of it, treating it almost like a virtual treasure hunt, looking for the most unique, interesting items, and “collecting” them in my memory. Drinking in their value, without needing to possess them.
It was a great day, lots of fun. I did buy one thing that day. There was this one shop that had dozens of things that I really liked, but when my eye fell on a blue tin owl, I fell in love. That little guy had to come home with me. And you know what? I’m really glad it did, because it makes me smile every time I see it. That, to me, seems like the very spirit of minimalism. Only own things that make you smile.
Prong 2: get rid of the junk that I’ve already got.
I decided to tackle my wardrobe first. I’ve got a hate-hate relationship with my wardrobe. I hate almost all of it, and it’s not doing me ANY favors.
Pinterest is teeming with posts about Capsule Wardrobes. This is a concept whereby you choose just a few items to keep in your wardrobe, and by mixing and matching, you can come up with all of the outfits you need.
One post in particular that caught my attention called for you to have just 33 items in your wardrobe for the next 3 months. That 33 includes pants, shirts, skirts, dresses, sweaters, jackets, shoes, jewelry and scarves.
Really? Just 33?
I mean, I have 3 pairs of earrings that I wear on a regular basis, plus a few others that are for specific outfits. I have 2 pairs of work shoes, 2 pairs of sandals, 2 pairs of boots, a pair of sneakers. A light jacket, a warm jacket, a really warm parka. 4 scarves. That’s 17 items right there, and we haven’t even gotten to clothes yet!
33 didn’t seem like enough. I spent some time looking through pictures of people’s capsules, and gradually started to think, “Maybe”. So I decided to try it.
The rules of a capsule wardrobe are simple: everything in your wardrobe should fit well, be seasonally appropriate, be neat and fresh looking, and, most importantly, be something you like wearing. So I started by eliminating everything in my wardrobe that didn’t meet that criteria.
I found myself getting rid of old t-shirts that I’d been hanging on to for sentimental reasons, even though they were too far gone to wear outside the house; nice pants that I’d hardly ever worn because I didn’t really like them; a jacket that I’d bought online which was too small, and I thought I’d shrink into it; and so on. I was ruthless – there was no compromising. It didn’t matter if I’d only just bought something last month or spent a lot of money on. If I didn’t like it, it went. If it didn’t fit well, it went. If it was worn out, it went.
By the time I was done purging, I’d filled six trash bags with clothes and shoes. Six!! If you’d asked me before hand, I would have told you that I didn’t own enough clothes to fill six bags. I’d have been wrong. After I was done with this massive clean-out, do you know what I was left with?
Enough.
I’m well under the 33 item limit, if you don’t count jewelry. Which I’ve decided not to count, because to my surprise, I have a bunch of necklaces that I’m attached to. If you only count clothes and shoes, I’m down to less than 30 items. And in looking at those, they are all clothes that I like. When I step into my closet, it’s not groans and sighs and depression. It’s just me and a bunch of things that are going to be easy to wear.
Yup, this is definitely working out for me.
Today in the grocery store I had another revelation about “Less”. My son leaves for college in two days, and I noticed that I had less in my cart than usual, now that I’m only feeding three people.
Of course I knew this moment was coming. But looking at that grocery cart drove home an unsettling feeling that’s been coming over me for the past year.
I am less.
I am less of a mother now. I know, I know. I’ll always be his mother. But not in the same way. Being a mother has been the rock-solid core of who I am for the last 18 years. Now a big chunk of that is over. And it feels like a chunk of me is gone. I don’t know who I am without it.
In a couple of days, there will be less talking in my house, less bathroom congestion, less laundry, less dirty dishes, less music. Less family.
I don’t like it.
I mean, I’m happy for him. He’s lucky enough to have found his passion early in life, and he’s adventurous enough to be excited for what comes next. But I’ve spent years building this family, and now part of it is just walking out the door.
If I am less of a mother, I am less of a person.
There’s no way around that thought. All those years while I was busy raising a family, I ignored the advice that told me to maintain interests independent of the kids. Now I’m left trying to play catch-up, trying to fill in the blank spaces in my life that used to be filled with teaching and playing and cuddling and bedtime stories. I’ve taken up violin and writing, and rediscovered crochet. And it helps, but it’s still less.
I think this minimalist trend has come into my life at the right moment. I’m on the downhill side of my life, where so many aspects are shrinking instead of growing. Leaning toward minimalism is a way to accept this natural but wrenching change. I will use it as an opportunity to embrace the concept of Less, to accept its simplicity. I will appreciate that less is more. More time, more space, more energy, more peace. I will collect memories instead of knickknacks. I will spend time instead of money. I will seek out the serenity that is offered by Less.
Kimba
Photos: Martin, Kimberlee. August, 2016.
© Kimberlee Martin, 2016. All rights reserved.