Everyone gets the End-of-Vacation Blues, but coming back from our second anniversary trip was especially hard: we were abandoning a clean, bright, spacious hotel room for our cluttered, dark, cramped apartment. We were going from a bedroom where we could get out of bed on either side to a bedroom where one of us had to crawl across the mattress and get out on the other side. We were leaving a place that held what we needed and returning to a place that held more than we even wanted.
We got home around 11pm and sat on the couch, discouraged, grumpy, and unhappy to be home.
"What can we do?" I said, looking Gabe dead in the eye. "I can't live like this. This is miserable."
We brainstormed for a few minutes, about how to rearrange the furniture so that we could at least get out of the freaking bed on either side. It was a long, involved game of mental Tetris, but we had a plan with potential.
"How long do you think this would take?" I asked.
"A couple of hours probably," Gabe admitted.
"Let's do it."
Gabe stared at me, head turned in a wary way. I famously hate being up late. I famously hate (HATE) moving furniture. "Really?"
"Yes. But let's start now before I change my mind."
In the bedroom, we unearthed the IKEA desk from under its pile of textbooks, books, papers, homework, belts, stamps, figurines, stationery, loose change, notebooks, and pens. We moved the piles into the living room. We moved the desk itself into the living room.
In the bedroom, we unearthed the dresser from under its piles of mail, socks, jewelry, jewelry boxes, watches, bowls of trinkets, loose change, puzzles, and dead batteries. We moved the dresser to the opposite wall.
With great effort, we dislodged our mattress from the bed frame and moved it off the bed. We moved the bed to another wall and remade it. I nearly cried at how beautiful it was to see all the space on either side.
In the living room, we moved a small bookshelf, situated the IKEA desk in the corner, and moved an end table into the bedroom.
We were left staring at several piles of junk in each room, but the furniture looked good. The bones of the rooms looked good. It felt good.
We gave ourselves a two-day deadline to take care of the piles of junk. To my utter SHOCK, we actually made that deadline.
As I lay in bed each night, I could breathe easier. Our apartment was still cluttered, dark, and cramped, but I could see better that it didn't have to be. We'd gotten rid of most of the junk that had comprised the displaced piles, and it had felt really good. We didn't need most of it. We didn't even want most of it. We could breathe easier without it cluttering up our vision and, consequently, our minds.
I wanted more of that feeling.
The next week I went through the jewelry that had been on my side of the dresser and in my hanging jewelry organizer. I only ever wore about half of it, if that. I easily gave away or donated the pieces that I didn't need, and I've actually had no ragrets--which, I will say, is NOT always the case with me. #PurgeWisely #RIPFavoriteWhiteCropTopFromMyPre-MarriagePurge
Since then, I've been using fewer seasonal decorations, I've been purging my belongings in stages, and I've become less receptive to gifts and purchases.
Am I a minimalist now? No. Not at all. Not even close. All you have to do is listen to a real minimalist podcast or watch a real minimalist YouTuber (shameless plug for my friend Ashley's channel) to know that I'm far from it.
Would I like to be a minimalist? Honestly, I'm not sure. That's kind of what this blog is all about: figuring out what's actually Me.
In Minimalism Part 2, I'll be thinking through minimalism's pros and cons, what I agree with and what I disagree with, and the areas in which I find myself particularly struggling with the concept.
~Stephanie
Gabe stared at me, head turned in a wary way. I famously hate being up late. I famously hate (HATE) moving furniture. "Really?"
"Yes. But let's start now before I change my mind."
In the bedroom, we unearthed the IKEA desk from under its pile of textbooks, books, papers, homework, belts, stamps, figurines, stationery, loose change, notebooks, and pens. We moved the piles into the living room. We moved the desk itself into the living room.
In the bedroom, we unearthed the dresser from under its piles of mail, socks, jewelry, jewelry boxes, watches, bowls of trinkets, loose change, puzzles, and dead batteries. We moved the dresser to the opposite wall.
With great effort, we dislodged our mattress from the bed frame and moved it off the bed. We moved the bed to another wall and remade it. I nearly cried at how beautiful it was to see all the space on either side.
In the living room, we moved a small bookshelf, situated the IKEA desk in the corner, and moved an end table into the bedroom.
We were left staring at several piles of junk in each room, but the furniture looked good. The bones of the rooms looked good. It felt good.
We gave ourselves a two-day deadline to take care of the piles of junk. To my utter SHOCK, we actually made that deadline.
As I lay in bed each night, I could breathe easier. Our apartment was still cluttered, dark, and cramped, but I could see better that it didn't have to be. We'd gotten rid of most of the junk that had comprised the displaced piles, and it had felt really good. We didn't need most of it. We didn't even want most of it. We could breathe easier without it cluttering up our vision and, consequently, our minds.
I wanted more of that feeling.
The next week I went through the jewelry that had been on my side of the dresser and in my hanging jewelry organizer. I only ever wore about half of it, if that. I easily gave away or donated the pieces that I didn't need, and I've actually had no ragrets--which, I will say, is NOT always the case with me. #PurgeWisely #RIPFavoriteWhiteCropTopFromMyPre-MarriagePurge
Since then, I've been using fewer seasonal decorations, I've been purging my belongings in stages, and I've become less receptive to gifts and purchases.
Am I a minimalist now? No. Not at all. Not even close. All you have to do is listen to a real minimalist podcast or watch a real minimalist YouTuber (shameless plug for my friend Ashley's channel) to know that I'm far from it.
Would I like to be a minimalist? Honestly, I'm not sure. That's kind of what this blog is all about: figuring out what's actually Me.
In Minimalism Part 2, I'll be thinking through minimalism's pros and cons, what I agree with and what I disagree with, and the areas in which I find myself particularly struggling with the concept.
~Stephanie
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