I'm not a
minimalist. Far from it, in fact: I really like things. Like most
people my age, I am trying to create my identity based on stuff.
Material goods serve as manifestations of my interests, and without
them, I am (or at least, I thought that I would be) an un-person. My
idea of self is justified by objects: I like tea, I have a collection
of tea cups. I like running, I have racing numbers taped to the wall
of my bedroom. I like drawing, and I have excessive art supplies
scattered across my desk. In the beginning, this seemed reasonable,
but as time progresses (and I hopefully, to some extent, matured), I
came to realize that some, if not most, of my things were extraneous.
And, even though I could objectively identify how unnecessary so many
of my possessions were, I could not begin to get rid of them.
A slow
panic is setting in as I prepare to leave home. Going to college is
forcing me to prioritize and declutter. I ask myself the question: do
I really need this? Increasingly, I find myself answering in the
negative. In the past weekend, I pulled sixty books off the shelves
of my bedroom and boxed them to donate. Over the past several months,
I've been doing the same process with my clothing. These have not
been easy tasks for me. I find my bookshelf is hugely indicative of
my character, and by removing pieces from my shelves I feel that I am
releasing parts of myself. I parted with several book series this
weekend that I had adored when I was growing into pre-pre-pubescence.
What part of my childhood was I choosing to relinquish as I packed
the box and dragged it into the hallway?
Sorting
clothing is no easier. Now that I have finished growing, I have
started to grow an extensive wardrobe of miscellaneous garments:
shirts, pants, skirts, button-downs, sweaters, jackets. My penchant
for thrifting has caused the contents of my closet to expand
exponentially with each season. The slow accumulation of garments
surprises me, as I can never truly conceptualize the amount of
clothing that I actually possess until it is time to box it up and
store it for the next year. Embarrassingly, I have run out of space
to store my shoes. I threw away four pairs, among them several worn
down pairs of running shoes, and the pair of ballet flats that
everyday in the 8th
grade- the same pair I wore when I had my first kiss. I'm
sentimental. Absurdly so. I pulled two trash bags full of clothing
out of my room to donate, and haven't regretted it.
Cleaning my
desk and school shelves has been completely overwhelming. My older
brother never got rid of his textbooks, at the urging of my mother,
in the event that I would need them when I went through the classes
later. When I followed him through school three years later, I took
many of the same classes with many of the same teachers. However,
none of the books were the same. Editions change over the years, and
the textbooks that I already had were essentially worthless. So, when
I graduated in June, I was left with a tall pile of defunct
textbooks, most in duplicate. Required readings for eight collective
years of English classes, and an inordinate amount of SAT prep books
given to me by my brother and cousins and family friends.
If you
couldn't already tell, I feel the need to be over-prepared for
things. I have saved my binders from almost every class that I took
in high school, in the event that I would need to reference my notes
later on. When I cleared out my shelves, my binders were the first to
go. I went through them meticulously, pulling a few tests and essays
that I wanted to keep, and recycling the rest. In a few subjects,
such as French, I did decide to keep my notes. Even though I held
onto some things, I was able to narrow down ten binders and countless
two pocket folders overflowing with handouts, worksheets, and
miscellany, into three concise binders. I recycled nearly 50 pounds
of paper. (And yes, I am going to take a moment to repeat that: 50
pounds of paper. What was I thinking that made me think I
needed to keep 50 pounds of paper? I routinely babysit children who
weigh less than that.) From the shelves of required readings,I
decided which I wanted to keep, and which I would box to donate. I
brought the books to my room, and put them into my own personal
library. In total, I took my desk and school readings from two
shelving units into a single shelf.
As
difficult as it was to do my first sweep, each successive purge has
become easier for me. My room in still insulated with books, and I
still have a large amount of clothing. But now, it has become easier
for me to look at these items and judge their worth. I have a book
here that I've never read or wanted to read, but it was a gift from
X. I pull it from the shelves and put it in a stack to donate. I
never liked the way this shirt fit me, but it had only cost this much money.
I'll probably never wear it, but maybe somebody else will. It doesn't
matter how much, or how little, something cost, if it serves no
practical purpose. At times when I am cleaning out, I find it
important to remind myself that I have what I need. I want what I
want. I don't always need what I want.
