Stumbling over Roadblocks on the Path to Minimalism
The one thing I learned in my process to live a more streamlined life is that this road has obstacles. When the euphoria wears off from the purge of clutter, you start to question everything. To be fair I did start out a little slow. I tried to trash or donate at least 10 things every week. At first, very few things made the cut and I had the back of my car filled on a few occasions. The junk was easy, well it was easier. As an artist and a maker it is hard to let go of the things that could be great for the next art project. Doesn’t everyone have a bag of bottle caps or wine corks? What about old tubes of paint that could be reconstituted? It took a lot of mental gymnastics to convince myself it was, in fact, junk. At the very least these types of items could be re-homed to someone that will use them. Once the items started to increase in sentimental significance, the task to streamline my life started to slow down. I started to question if I got rid of things too quickly.
What I do not think enough people talk about is the unintentional aftermath from a declutter. When something goes missing or a family member asks about a specific item, my anxiety surges. Did I accidentally throw it out or donate it? What else could I have accidentally disposed of? The hunt begins to find all the important items that now may be lost. In most cases the item is recovered. However in other instances, the item is just simply gone. My plan seemed to be flawed and my progress was dwindling. Recently I spent two days deciding if I should recycle seven perfectly good, small boxes. I did not have any immediate need for seven small boxes, but WHAT IF a need arose? These were not boxes I could find in a store as they were the packaging for a lighting project we worked on. This was trash, clearly, but something was preventing me from tossing them.
Finally in fit of determination, I grabbed up the boxes, and ran to the recycling bin. In a tornado of rage I tore up the boxes as I threw them into the big blue bin. The only way I could stop myself from hiding those boxes in my office or garage was to destroy them. The shredded bits of cardboard layed at the bottom of the receptacle. I started to laugh at myself for this dramatic reaction to seven small boxes. I even felt bad for the boxes, they were well made with a nice closure. A small wave of defeat washed over me. If boxes were this hard, the more sentimental items were going to be impossible.
I silently started my journey to Minimalism roughly 8 months ago. I became more vocal with my family and friends about my desire to live a more streamlined existence in the last couple months. I tore up six of the seven perfect little boxes two days ago. This is going to be a bumpy road.
