As I grew up, my grandparents were also my next door neighbors and every day after school I’d go to their house and have tea and graham crackers. This went on for years. I used the same Tony the Tiger mug, white porcelain with zero traces of Tony from daily washings and the inside stained from daily tea times. My grandma used her same green mug with the white inside. It had a chip in it. We each used our mugs day in and day out. It was comforting, dependable, routine. One day I’d asked why she didn’t get new mugs. Her response was so simple, “Why? When these are fine, no?” And yes, over all they were.
My grandmother didn’t travel much, but somehow she had a giant collection of hotel sized bottles of everything. Those little soaps are all I remember her using at her bathroom sink and if her skin was dry she’d have me get a hotel lotion. Of course, I had to open them for her; as she aged, ‘ooooh, these hands are useless…’ riddled and cursed with deforming arthritis.
My grandmother was very thrifty. She would balance her check book to the penny, leave produce in the cart unbagged so the water drained out (“I’m not paying extra for their rinsing it, let the water run out before they weigh it.”), only bought what was on her list and made things stretch like no one I’d ever seen. She kept everything. Recycled before recycling was law. Upcycled before it was a thing. Repurposed. I’d grown up in two houses never once seeing a dustpan; we’d only used two pieces of cardboard to clean up what was swept from the floors… and we’d use those cardboard pieces repeatedly. As I’d matured, we named it the Italian Dustpan. I knew of no other way.
When she passed, we had the daunting task of emptying her home. She had walls filled with ‘treasures’; things she never wanted to part with. It was hard to decide what to do with it all and it became a pivotal time in my life. She had things she loved for sure; and I’ve kept a few of them. But there was so much stuff that she just didn’t want to get rid of ‘in case she needed it for something one day’ or ‘it was still good’ or ‘it’s like brand new’…you get the idea.
I’d began to look at things differently. I’d become a minimalist.
I’ve never been a big collector of things. I’d not been one to pin an emotion on tangible objects. Sure, I’d kept a spoon from our tea times, I’d nearly kept the mugs…but as I’d held them and reminisced, I’d realized that keeping the mugs wouldn’t keep the memory closer. Those mugs are engraved in my brain, in my heart, and having them take space in my cabinet didn’t make the memory any more valid. I’d tossed them.
I’ve moved several times, many more than as a kid I’d imagined that I would. Each time I’d moved I’d had to pack, and packing leads to purging. Did I really need that? When was the last time I wore that? Is this even in style anymore? Can someone else be putting this to better use?
I’d begun to purge. And it felt amazing.
It wasn’t always easy to let go to start. But man oh man, once I’d started, it was epic.
I’d donated, I’d given to friends, I’d contacted shelters of all kinds. I had stuff that was either no longer serving me (wasn’t using it) or no longer bringing me joy (wasn’t using it) and once I’d let it go, the weight of my stuff lightened, both literally and figuratively. It was downright freeing.
Since then, I’ve consulted others on minimizing their things. Maybe not becoming minimalist, but definitely refining their closets and basements. It’s as simple as Jan 1st, turning all of the hangers in your closet backwards. As you wear an item, flip the hanger to the traditional way. Whatever isn’t flipped by December 31st, it’s time to let it go. And no excuses either…let it go.
For Lent, Catholics, Methodists, Lutherans and others, give something up, right? They spend 40 days making a sacrifice. Why not choose to let go of something for 40 days? It’s still a sacrifice, it’s been a part of your days for however long, but is it something you can let go of and can maybe even help someone else? Probably.
How many things are you holding on to because it belonged to someone else? Maybe you keep those shoes because you spent so much money for them, however, they absolutely torture you when wearing them. No matter what you’ve paid for them, they’re worthless if you can’t use them; if they don’t bring you joy. These things are just taking up real estate. Why are we so afraid to part with possessions?
And don’t get me wrong…sell it on a marketplace site, an app, from the paper, a yard sale, whatever…I’m not saying to give it all away just to create space. However, you’ll see by letting go of things you will be creating opportunity.
The closets are one thing, but remember, you can’t grasp hold of today if you’re still holding on to yesterday’s junk.
Let that shit go, too.
Gym Girl Dana 