I did another drop to Goodwill yesterday: One large bag of clothes and a bag of shoes. I had trouble letting the shoes go, though. I took them out of their donation bag, tried them on, and thought about what outfits would go well with them. "No," I told myself. "You can let these go." I returned the shoes to the donation bag. Then I felt a shot of pain from my unsupported arches... there goes that insecurity again. My fear of letting go is still with me. I was feeling so elevated and enlightened by my release of so much stuff. But the shoes seems to be my trouble spot.
What struck me the most from my purge of stuff was the unbelievable number of bags I have ALREADY donated. But still, I have a hard time fitting all my belongings into my closet. How is that possible? I haven't shopped since the summer... (for my new job). John teases me when he sees my closet because I have all my shirts and pants lined up and stacked neatly. But there isn't much room for extras. In fact, when I pull out a shirt or a pair of sweatpants from the stack, I have to make sure the whole thing doesn't come down as well. That's a sign that there is still too much in there.
This process begins a conversation in my head. I ask myself questions like, "Why does it matter that I clear some of these clothes? " Or why spend all this time clearing out the old video cassette tapes?" We'll, I am staring to believe that the more things surround me, the more those things compete for my attention. One example is when I had three sets of dishes in my kitchen. Yes, I said three. There are four people in my family. Realistically we use four plates, four cups, and four sets of utensils. We are able to wash anything when we finish using it. But before I donated my kitchen stuff, I had enough dishes and accessories to feed eighteen people. Maybe that was source of security for me..."hey, if eighteen people suddenly show up, I can feed all of them at the same time. But you know what happened? My little family would just pull out dish after dish and cup after cup until the dishes piled so high that we could get anything under the faucet anymore. Maybe that is more of a statement about my family's habits in the kitchen rather than on minimalizing kitchen stuff. But it was amazing when after I cut down the dishes to a maximum of seven plates, five cups, and eight eating utensils, the dishes never, never piled up! Now how did that happen?
"But what if I miss the item I just donated?" I have asked myself more than once. The amazing thing is... I haven't yet missed one single item I got rid of. Not one. Even my wedding gown that I donated last month...I don't miss it. Don't get me wrong, I loved it and I remember my Lola every time I think of it, but I do not wish I had the gown back. I didn't use it, I will never use it, and I didn't see it everyday.
I am happier with more space and less clutter taking up my attention. Even though the stuff is nonliving and inanimate, it takes up precious space in my room, in my schedule (to move, organize, or clean), and in my mind. Removing the item not needed frees up that physical space as well as the space in my head. It's a feeling I am growing to enjoy.
I have been doing some research online to see what strategies are out there for someone looking to minimalize. Should I keep enough clothes for only one laundry load? Should I keep the clothes to a maximum number of, say, 50 items? There's a lot of advice out there. And a lot of it is very good.
Tammy Stoebel wrote a
few books on "going small" and her blog
Rowdy Kittens is one that I frequent. She and her husband now live in a tiny house in Northern California.
Another blog I just love is
The Minimalists. These two guys had six-figure incomes and nice "stuff" that you would think would make anyone content and happy. But they found out that money and stuff is not enough.
