I’ve never really thought that I was all that materialistic and then I come home, after a year with essentially just my clothes and some tech and realised just how much stuff I have.
My parents have lived in the same house my whole life, and while I’ve moved around, I’ve always had a base to come back to, a permanent storage facility, so I can pick and chose the ‘things’ that I move in to a new place with, kidding myself I don’t have that much.
I’m ok with that.
Everyone used to tease me for how much stuff I had and I used to get defensive, but taking on a section of my room week by week has been incredibly cathartic.
Little walks down memory lane, finding old school newsletters and ‘Good Citizen’ awards, things I’d completely forgotten about, that made me smile, but ultimately were taking up space have now been recycled.
Clothes I’ve not worn for over a year, that were left lamenting in my wardrobe while my faves had an adventure down under have gone on eBay and if after a re-list they don’t sell, they’ve gone in a bag and straight down to the charity shop.
I’m averaging one bag of charity shop goodies a week, but it feels amazing.
And while that’s a bag of things that haven’t sold, it’s not so much about the money: I’m letting go either way, it’s just a bonus if I can make something from it as well.
Straight into savings.
This major purge is not only making emigrating back with everything seem like a much more manageable task, it’s helping to clear my mind and calm myself down.
I’m addicted to the feeling of knowing I can re-purpose, recycle or re-sell a long forgotten item.
The only downside is the sheer size of the task at hand, but breaking it down into small chunks each day makes it all much easier.
My daily routine at the moment goes along the lines of: wait for Zac to leave for work, get up, get a coffee and some brekkie, spend an hour or so catching up on emails, and applying for jobs, another hour on my course and then the remaining time picking a section of room to attack and going at it with gusto.
Making sure to look like I’ve done nothing all morning.
I’m not entirely sure why I am being so secretive with my clandestine mission to rid myself of clutter. Perhaps that’s just part of the process for me, perhaps I secretly don’t feel like I’m contributing much to the team and want to keep it all secret until it’s worth being noticed. Perhaps I am still ashamed of how much stuff I have and don’t want people to see the full scale of the ‘purge’.
On the days when I’m at my worst, when my mind won’t stop racing, my brain feels like it’s going to explode out of my skull and the thought of leaving the house fills me with fear, I like sitting down with a pile of old ‘things’ and spending half and hour photographing them, ready for eBay.
Always, eBay first. One man’s junk and all that.
It’s the only task that I can consistently get lost in because while it’s mundane and dreary, it’s also contributing to the main goal, so in the tatters of my mind, it’s not a waste of my time.
Besides which, Ashby’s economy is basically run on tea rooms and charity shops and if I stop now, the whole town will fall apart.