May I Never Be Complete

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Har, har.

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Have nothing in your home that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

William Morris

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There is a difference between giving up and knowing when you’ve had enough.

Yesterday I returned three bras to the store.  They were not expensive by most standards…about $30.00 altogether. But I don’t *need* them so I took them back.

I also donated a large bag of dance clothing to a friend of mine who dances with a troupe. I don’t belly dance anymore (“How can you give it up?!” she asked.  Honestly…I love the solitary simplicity of painting, running and playing my violin more than the accessory-laden realm of dance.)  And I’m glad to give things to someone who can use them and appreciate them.

I have a goal of reducing my clothing by half. My clothes take up an entire bedroom closet, a chest of drawers and several boxes in ‘storage’ for winter.

This is a tricky goal as I’m a sewing fiend with a closet full of costumes for Renaissance festivals, Halloween, etc. I live in Minnesota, where winter almost requires a second wardrobe. Tee shirts, jeans, a few sweaters, a hoodie and some scarves should be enough.  

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Stay on Task

Emory University researchers found that people who switched between projects had less self-control than those who stuck to one task. Changing gears uses up brain power, so you are less able to resist temptation.  The study focuses on workplace tasks but it strikes me that our entire consumer culture is built on this concept. Advertisers and vendors overwhelm you with a glut of choices until your focus breaks down and you are mesmerized by shoes you don’t need, the magazine you won’t read, and the exercise equipment that gathers dust in your basement. (Study source: http://goizueta.emory.edu/faculty/ryanhamilton/documents/switchingmindsets_obhdp_2011.pdf)

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GPOY

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A very simple, useful list. "A place for everything" is a very mindful tool for home organizing.

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Reaching that point. Yeup.

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Closet case

Our home has only three closets. One in each bedroom and a small half-closet in the hall for coats. This presents a difficult storage situations in Minnesota, where the weather varies from hideous heat in the summer to sub-zero cold in the winter.

We own many coats. *I* own many coats. And shoes. And boots. And dresses, trousers, shorts, jeans, skirts, scarves, etc.

Our daughter is a preschooler and my husband uses the closet in her bedroom to stow his clothing. He doesn't complain; he just plans ahead, puts away laundry when she's awake. But soon she will have dresses and other things that need to be on hangers. Soon she will want privacy in her room.

I've made a commitment to clean out half the bedroom closet to provide space for my husband's clothes. Do I really need thirty pairs of shoes and my old prom dress from 1992? A box of belts I don't wear? A dozen scarves for every season? 

I am making progress with reclaiming the closet. Tonight I filled four 15-gallon bags with clothes for donation. The shoes are next. 

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Every. Day.

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LAGOM: Not too much, not too little

The Swedes have a term “lagom” which has no English equivalent. Loosely translated, It is the concept of having not too much, not too little. It’s an ideal they strive to achieve in daily living. Excess and waste is an embarrassment to Swedish sensibility as it denotes a lack of care for one’s neighbors and too much individual importance. As an American, I was raised to take pride in my individuality but I had the good grace to be embarrassed if I stood out too much.  You see, my grandparents were first-generation Americans and my Swedish roots run deep. Grandma and Grandpa lived through The Great Depression.  When I was growing up, I remember they did frugal things like washing plastic bags and microwave meal trays for reuse. Grandpa would eat an entire apple, core and all, to waste nothing. I remember he only raised his voice at me once, when I took too much dental floss when I brushed my teeth. In the spirit of lagom, last night I pulled every pan, pot and casserole dish from my kitchen cupboard. I spread the bounty of crockery around me and looked closely. Then I began to sort lids, bowls and pizza stones (I haven’t used them in years). I kept four skillets, two stock pots, a mixing bowl and one strainer. I kept the pancake griddle. Everything else has been moved to bags for donation/garage sale.

My cupboards look organized and calm and cooking will not be a clattering chore now but a pleasure to accomplish.

[ilovecarrots]

walk the talk :)

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It's a Start.

This is just one corner of my home:

It’s stacked high with books and magazines and CDs all boxed up. It doesn’t look that bad, right? But this photo was taken after hours of work sorting. Seeing it now, I realize I still need to reduce MORE. I’m trying to work up the guts to recycle that entire stack of magazines near the front right. This will have to be done bravely, without paging through a single one of them or I’ll lose my nerve in sentiment. I want floor space for my child to play, for my friends to come to visit, more than I want those papers.

The truth is, I own more books and magazines than I will ever have the leisure time to enjoy. Some I have read already and kept because I liked the articles; I keep them for an elusive concept I call “future reference.” I live with the constant illusion that I’ll have oodles of magical spare time in the future to read these things.

I am a victim of consumer culture (as we all are) and I fall under the seductive spell of books, clothes, makeup, accessories, etc.  As a woman, I’ve even more a target. I’ve noticed that the majority of “minimalist living” blogs are maintained by young, single men…frankly, it’s easy to live out of a backpack when society doesn’t tell you you’re only valuable if you have the right hairdo or lip color.

I’m realistic. I have a husband and a small child (a veritable clutter-producing MACHINE). But that doesn’t mean I can’t take steps to improve our lives by reducing our household mess. I do this out of love for them, because our home is a collective space for everyone to enjoy. I try to be a good example. While going through my bathroom shelves last night and tossing things out, I thought about the money I spent on each item. This was painful but I will hold onto the thought. Why? Because I want to recall the feeling again, when I’m standing in a store with three varieties of lotion and four lipsticks in my hand. I need to ask myself, “Is it worth it?” Chances are, it will languish in a drawer or back shelf for years…money down the drain. PUT IT BACK.

Variety is the spice of life. But too many cooks ruin the soup. And just how much spice can you add before the flavors are overwhelmed by each other?

Why do I need fourteen eyeliners in various colors? Will that perfume improve my life, or just clutter my shelves? Do I really have time to read that new Irving Welsh novel? Wouldn’t I rather save that $25.00 and use it to travel someday?

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An Inherited Problem.

My mom is a smart, generous, creative superhuman. She is also a hoarder.

I knew at an early age that my mother hated to clean. My father had a bad temper and was old-fashioned (meaning he expected Mom to be the housekeeper, even though she worked full days and looked after three daughters and about ten pets). He would holler about the mess, she would begin furiously picking things up.  It always ended with a resentful, silent tension I began to associate with housekeeping.

Dad once tried to clean. In typical thug-fashion, he shoved everything into garbage bags and put them by the curb. My mom’s new shoes disappeared that day and so did his responsibility for ever cleaning again. I’m sure that’s just what he wanted.

So each weekend we would flee the house to dodge Dad’s temper.  We would find something interesting to do like buy more stuff. We would arrive home and literally sneak shopping bags into the house.  This was Mom’s passive-aggressive way of getting back at Dad for being a bastard.

Over time, I learned how to accumulate but I never learned how to divest myself of things. Mom never asked us to clean.  She wanted her daughters to have “a prolonged childhood” which somehow translated into being absolved of all responsibility. She did everything for us. Children are natural opportunists so this arrangement suited us just fine. I fell asleep every night in my hamster hole of detritus and blankets piled around me on my bed.

I didn’t know at the time that this upbringing would become a source of major anxiety and come back to haunt me as an adult.

I now know my natural inclinations can be changed. What has been learned can be unlearned. And frankly, I’m tired of living in a panicked state of wanting, consuming, buying...all while living in a houseful of clutter.

Identity and interests have become wrapped up in the accumulation of THINGS. I’m not yet drowning but I can see the warning signs. So to build my own lifeboat, I’m going to simplify my household. This blog does not exist to disparage my mother, who has her own difficulties and reasons for the state of her household. It is to document my own struggles and changes, to keep me honest, and to (hopefully) share tips to encourage others who also wish to make changes.