Less is More

The current climate (also known, on days when I’m less stable, as “the shitstorm we’re living through”) has me really leaning into a return to the basics so that I can maintain the desire and the energy to remain present rather than diving under my bedcovers and staying there. For me, this looks like slowing way down and listening to what my mind and body really need (and remembering that what they want is often different). It looks like more walks, more time spent outdoors when the weather permits, more check-ins with my inner circle. It also looks like less alcohol, less junk food, less pressure on myself to produce, less obligation. More uplifting or edifying reading and less passive entertainment.

I’m finding that this is the perfect time to further explore and indulge my love of minimalism. When each day brings yet another confirmation that yes, apparently something that crazy COULD happen, taking the time to manage my environment and my life in order to have time for the things I truly value is calming and satisfying.  It’s not going to fix anything that’s happening, but it’s another tool in my little arsenal to keep me from despair so that I can continue to fight.

My love affair with minimalism developed slowly and by accident. Although I’d been a huge proponent of organizing (putting the mountains of stuff I had into pretty containers or neat rows) and light decluttering (periodically getting rid of old papers or unworn clothing) for years, it took leaving “the marital home” with an overnight bag to start me on the path toward living with less stuff and fewer unexamined entanglements.

The plan was to return after a few weeks to pack and ship my personal possessions and my share of the many belongings we’d accumulated during twenty-five years of marriage. Instead, I was blindsided by the Bravo TV extravaganza that followed. Several weeks after leaving, and contrary to prior agreements, I learned that I was the defendant in some incredibly vicious litigation which effectively locked me out of the home into which I’d poured my heart, soul, and a significant amount of money.

So, my daughter and I camped out in our new apartment for months. We slept on mattresses on the floor. Ordered dishes and glasses and towels online. Bought a few new items of clothing. We replaced “basics” (like a corkscrew, or a stapler) as the need arose. As the weeks elapsed, I realized how little one really needs; how I’d been drowning in stuff that I could easily live without. It made things so simple, which felt like even more freedom at a time when I was savoring the freedom from all I’d escaped.

Still, unexamined habits are so hard to break. The habit of mindless consumption. The habit of holding on to things. When, six months in, my attorney insisted that I stand up to the bullying, I combined a trip to attend one of several punishing hearings with a hotly contested visit to the house. I hired an off-duty police officer to accompany me, and movers to fill the POD I’d had dropped in front of the house. Having learned by then that the only way to win with a toxic person is not to play, I refused to fight over possessions. I took what I’d brought to the marriage after years of living around the world on my own, some furniture that my parents had gifted us over the years, and my clothing and books.

That POD sat at the storage facility in my new location for months. I knew I had no room for any of the furniture, and had packed the rest of it under such stressful conditions that I couldn’t even remember what was in there. And we were doing fine with what we had. Finally, the psychic weight of all of that stuff (not to mention the monthly storage fee) became too much. After retrieving a few items of clothing and some books, I hired movers to take all of the furniture to a consignment shop, gave a fair amount of stuff to a friend that was starting over, left a fair amount in the dumpster onsite, and donated the rest.  Although the point of that whole exercise had been to assert my rights in the face of injustice, I also learned a valuable lesson about the hidden (and sometimes not-so-hidden) costs of holding on to things. And I learned, for the first time on a large scale, the peace that comes with letting them go.

And still. When we moved from our temporary apartment to a house after three years, I was chagrined by the amount of stuff I’d mindlessly accumulated. Single-use kitchen items that were unnecessary, books that I was never going to read again, new clothing that I never wore. Things people had given me that I didn’t need or want but felt guilty recycling. Ill-advised purchases I’d made before I knew how we really used the space. I was surprised by how much more I wanted to let go despite having recently started over.

Around this time is when I started to see that minimalism was more than just an organizing strategy. That yes, having fewer things made it easier to stay organized, which is important to me because an uncluttered environment soothes my busy brain. Soon I began to realize that I could similarly declutter other areas of my life like my routines and even my relationships. For me, this looked like

streamlining healthy routines while reducing self-sabotaging or time-wasting ones and focusing on positive connections while minimizing obligatory or negative ones. This is when it gelled for me: that minimalism is a philosophy that when applied to all areas of your life frees up your time and resources for what you truly love. And you’ll have a better handle on that by virtue of having curated your life.

 It's my opinion that there’s a lot to love about minimalism, and one of my favorites is that it’s not a one-size-fits-all, one-and-done thing. Life is always changing, and hopefully we are changing with it, so there is always an opportunity to reassess and recalibrate. Which is a fabulous distraction in times of both turmoil and stagnation. My experience in this regard is always expanding and because I know it can be difficult to know where to start when you’re overwhelmed (and because I know there are nerds like me who eat this stuff up), in future posts I’ll be sharing some of my favorite discoveries and tips.

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Thanks for reading. Any areas where tips would be particularly helpful? Any tips of your own you’d like to share?

Serendipitously, just as I finished drafting this post, I received the latest issue of Simplify Magazine (it’s online and a lifetime membership is only $20). The theme of this issue was minimalism. Joshua Becker, the founder of the magazine and a minimalist guru, sums it up beautifully when he says that minimalism is “a lifestyle of intentionally promoting our most important values by removing anything that distracts us from them”. Lots of other great tips in his article about why minimalism is for everyone (and how, as his definition implies, it’s different for everyone).

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Amazing read: Bibliophobia by Sarah Chiwaya. This memoir in essays blew me away on so many levels: her incisive self-awareness; her incredibly intellectual examination of literature; her relatable escape into books and “partially genetic melancholy”, just to name a few. I’m quite certain that I don’t have enough time remaining on this planet to achieve this level of writing prowess. Especially recommended for anyone who loves books, who had a difficult childhood, or who grew up "other".

And, because the Chief of DICK has mandated reports of accomplishments every week, here are mine for my job of continuing to find some joy in the hellscape he and his minions are creating:

1.      Got a 1.5-hour deep tissue massage

2.      Helped the CWP declutter and organize

3.      Entered my new credit card number into dozens of autopay accounts

4.      Allowed myself to cancel a solo date I’d already paid for because I just wasn’t feeling it

5.      Watched White Lotus over takeout with my two faves (the CWP and my nephew)