This week is all about “what do I stock up on?” So far I’ve look at my cleaning supplies and health and beauty items. Today I put my linen closet and bathroom vanity back together – the two places I most typically store those kinds of products. I even bought a new organizing product – an over the door iron holder. It has been sitting in my online cart since I cleaned out my clothes closet and decided it was the wrong place for the iron, but I refused to purchase the new holder until I cleaned out the linen closet and made sure it would work there. (I’m trying to retain the lesson from the metal boxes!) The ironing board holder works exactly how I wanted it to. The drawers I had added to my cart for under my bathroom sink, however, got removed when I realized that the lazy susan I no longer need on my kitchen table is the perfect solution. I’ll want to update the labels on my storage bins in my linen closet at some point, but everything now has a home, everything is reachable without knocking something else over, and everything is an item we use and like, all for the bargain price of $15.87 and a little time.
Check out Instagram for pics of the re-homed lazy susan in the bathroom vanity.
So, here’s one of the benefits of growing older: In a lot of areas, you know what you like, what works for you, and what doesn’t.
It doesn’t mean you can’t try new things – in fact a lot of studies say trying new things is an important part of staying mentally and emotionally and even physically healthy – but there are some things we don’t have to waste time making decisions about.
I know what sunscreen works for my face. I have extremely sensitive skin and there are roughly 2 brands of sunscreen/moisturizer/face cream I can put on my face without pain or massive breakouts.
I also know heavy, volume pumping hair products weigh my hair down and just don’t work for me.
And yet cleaning out my health and beauty supplies today, I found numerous different brands of face creams that I tried when I didn’t want to spend the money on the brand I know works.
I found bottles of hair volumizing products I purchased thinking…what? This time they would magically give my hair new life?
Removing these not only makes room in my closet, it also limits the millions of tiny decisions I make. I don’t have to dig through piles of moisturizers in my linen closet or stand in the store trying to sniff new shampoo scents through a mask. For many of these things, I already know what works for me.
Except maybe if having everything includes owning a beach house, then I’ve heard you may never experience isolation again.
A beach house we once rented had a sign in the kitchen that read: “You never know how many friends you have until you own a beach house.”
My neighbor used to have a bumper sticker on the back of his pick-up truck. “Yes, this is my truck. No, I won’t help you move.”
I get the frustration behind those sentiments. They both seem to be reacting against a feeling of being taken advantage of.vBut without veering into taking advantage of people, I think owning everything ourselves can limit opportunities to connect and create community.
As I was going through my cleaning supplies today, I came across a dryer vent cleaning kit. Many, many years ago a neighbor friend and I split the cost of the kit. I have no idea why we decided to split the cost of a dryer vent cleaning kit, but we did. And now a couple times a year, one of us will text the other, “Hey, do you have the dryer kit?” And we’ll trade it back and forth.
Over the years we’ve also traded camping equipment, kayaks, life jackets, crock pots, and countless other items. Usually, those trades end up including a front porch or kitchen table conversation, sometimes over a cup of coffee.
I love those conversations.
Each exchange then becomes an opportunity for connection we might not have if we both owned it all ourselves.
I love this concept of relationship and community through shared stuff, instead of owning everything.
Less stuff taking up room in our garages and basements, more shared coffee and conversation.
It was one of my favorites as a child, and one of my favorites to read to my own children – probably in part because I love Maurice Sendak’s illustrations. In the chapter, “What Will I Wear,” Little Bear looks out the window at the falling snow and even before he steps out into it, he tells his Momma, “Momma I’m cold, I want something to put on.”
Momma Bear sews him a hat and sends him out to play in the snow.
Soon he returns, still cold. His Momma gives him another layer and sends him back out.
Every time he goes out to play, he comes back, asking for more, and every time his Momma puts down what she is working on and sews him another layer – a hat, then a coat, and eventually even snow pants. Still, Little Bear returns cold.
Finally, Momma Bear stops and considers all that she has put on him. She offers Little Bear one last solution, a fur coat. YES, says Little Bear. But instead of adding another layer, one by one she removes all the layers she had covered him with that day.
Look, at your fur coat. Now you will not be cold, she told him.
And he wasn’t.
All Little Bear needed was the fur coat he was born with. It was enough, and every layer added detracted from it.
Throughout this uncovering project, I can see spaces in my home, and my life, filled with my own versions of those hats, snow pants, etc.
How many times have I seen my kids be interested in something and respond by burying them under a mound of supplies I think they may “need” to pursue that interest, completely overwhelming them and stifling creativity instead of nurturing it?
How many times have I tried to solve problems by buying more stuff, adding more layers?
Then the even harder questions:
What are the layers that have been put on me, and I have put on myself, and others, to make me and/or my spirituality ‘enough?’
I asked a few friends who grew up in the church to share things they were told were expected of them as ‘christian’ women. From their experiences (and mine), we have been told, to be a ‘christian’ woman, we must:
Cook Sew Entertain Be quiet Be friendly Be kind Be generous Always be prepared to give an answer to explain your faith Don’t preach or teach Hide your doubts Dress modestly Attract a husband Praise (and defend) your husband Have children Take care of the children Teach Sunday School Keep the children quiet too Braid your hair Don’t be concerned with braided hair Proverbs 31 in the streets and Song of Solomon in the sheets Be submissive, be a helpmate
Some of the things on this list may perhaps lead to women who are more well-behaved (in some people’s minds and according to some people’s standards). Some of these things may even make some women feel more well-liked or accepted (in certain circles).
But many of the items on this list are far too often used as tools of control and manipulation, perpetuating toxicity and abuse in many church communities.
As a follower of Christ, I believe I am to be continually growing and maturing, following the example of Christ. This list, however, does not make us Christian or make us any more or less loved by God.
Like Little Bear, each successive layer just makes us colder, as they cover up how we were created to thrive. The uncovering process I’m engaging in, the search for real, is the hard work of stripping away all the layers of human expectation, often one by one, to reveal my perfectly designed fur coat, which has been hiding underneath the entire time.
I planned on going through my stash of hammocks and blankets and outdoor supplies I keep in my car during the Spring/Summer/Fall, but to get to those, I would have had to move kayaks and other big equipment in the garage and the temp went above 50 for the first time in what felt like 10 years today, so other than a quick pass through the games and things I regularly keep in my car, I skipped the decluttering today. Because the point is to uncover real, and to live life fully and when the sun is shining and jackets are unnecessary, life is often better spent walking with a real friend and a real cup of coffee than wrestling with kayaks in a windowless garage.
No photo today. I was too busy enjoying the sunshine on my walk to remember to take a picture.
In his Becoming Minimalist email this morning, Joshua Becker encouraged his readers to consider Spring Decluttering instead of simply Spring Cleaning. In his list of tips, he suggested asking yourself questions like “what would I use if I didn’t have this item?”
I asked the same question while evaluating my craft supplies this past week, forcing myself to consider if the item I was looking at was the only way I could accomplish a given task.
Today, I read the question differently.
I had already scheduled technology for my category of the day, and was planning on looking at our devices, electronic games, piles of random cords, etc.
As I pondered “what would I use if I didn’t have this item” in terms of my electronics, the question took on a whole new meaning:
What activity or task would I be able to complete if I wasn’t playing this game?
What interaction would I engage in if I wasn’t interacting with this technology?
Don’t get me wrong, I think there is a place for numerous kinds of technology and screens – including video games. Over the past year, all four of us were able to attend school because we had our devices.
Some video games have been proven to be helpful in fine motor and some gross motor skills. Video games can be great tools to build relationships, especially in otherwise potentially awkward situations.
They have also been linked to all sorts of anti-social and problematic behaviors.
I listened to a Ted Radio Hour about Play a couple years ago and one of the featured speakers shed some light on one possible explanation for the difference between the positive benefits and potentially dangerous outcomes associated with video games. (The entire episode is fabulous, IMO, but if you want to skip to the section where they cover this concept, it starts around 35:15.)
They suggested why you play the game matters. If you approach screen time as entertainment or an interactive group activity, it can be enriching and relaxing. If you approach screen time as an escape, a means to not deal with your emotions, your responsibilities or the world around you, it can lead to unhealthy outcomes. (While I haven’t spent much time researching this, I imagine the same principle holds true for many other activities, not just screens. Books, food, exercise, even relationships approached as a means of escape can also lead to unhealthy outcomes.)
So back to Becker’s question, “What would I use if I didn’t have this item?”
If my children and I didn’t have our laptops, going to class and other tasks would be a lot more difficult, especially during this pandemic season. They’re a keeper. (I meant the laptops, but the kids, too.)
If I didn’t have the game Fishdom on my phone, I’d probably be less tempted to open it up and beat a few levels before starting on dinner. Or I might be more apt to read some of the books that survived the cut yesterday. I’m all for entertainment and times of relaxation, but hundreds of levels in, I think my relationship to Fishdom has breached the line to escapism. Buh-bye.
Note: I am very mindful of the many people who do not have adequate tools (including private spaces) to engage in school, work and other activities well in this current environment. We are extremely grateful for our sufficient technology, housing, food, and other met needs and wants, especially during this pandemic. We have also supported a couple organizations we love who are doing incredible work to lessen the disparity gaps in our culture which COVID-19 has significantly widened. If you’d like to learn more, send me a message or drop a question in the comments.
Crafts two days ago. Games yesterday. Today I had to face the music.
Like, literally. But also figuratively. Because I’ve been avoiding a bit of reality and it’s been coming at me for the last few days.
Today I was going to do books, but then saw a few binders full of CDs on the bookshelf and decided to shift to music. After a little while of getting lost down memory lanes of BMG music club, driving to college blasting ska and Christian rock, and a time when leading worship meant fighting with the printer to not smudge the lyrics to Delirious’s new worship song on the acetate for the overhead projector, I found myself surrounded by piles of CDs. I didn’t count how many there were, but based on the binders, I would say easily 100. I don’t know how long each specific CD was, but I distinctly remember my mix CDs getting cut off around 80 minutes, so let’s say they average about 80 minutes each. The only CD player I currently have is in my car. I’m probably in my car less than 3 hours a week these days, and for at least part of that time I’m not choosing the playlists. (The Chronicles of Narnia is typically our current jam.) So, for arguments sake, let’s say I’m choosing the music in my car for about 2.5 hours a week. At that rate, it would take me one.entire.year to listen to those CDs. Just once. And those CDs don’t even reflect what I spend most of my time listening to these days (though I’m still on a one-girl mission to bring back ska).
In my craft dresser, I had supplies for cross stitch, embroidery, sewing, Cricut crafts, leatherworking, watercolors, resin jewelry, beaded jewelry, glass cutting, stamping, stenciling, wood burning, metal stamping and probably a dozen others I’m forgetting. And I’ve tried every one of them and enjoyed them. Well, not so much water coloring. I’m ridiculously horrid. It was a quarantine family experiment. I enjoy the rest. But when exactly am I going to fit in these dozens of crafts? And practice the ukulele? And guitar? And apparently, I own a violin? And a zither, practice bells, and all the teach-yourself-piano 3.5” floppy disks that came with our hand-me-down Clavinova? (Yes, I don’t just have a collection of CDs, I also still have a collection of 3.5” floppy disks. And I haven’t yet touched my records and 8 tracks. Kids, an 8 track is…nevermind.)
The girl who buys and keeps all these hobbies and books and CDs and everything else apparently has WAAAAYYYYY more time than anyone else I know. That girl is not me. Last night I was proud of myself that I got the dishes washed before falling into bed much later than I planned.
Thinking about my things in terms of the time it would require to participate in, much less master, the varied activities I have supplies for helped me drastically reduce my CDs, sheet music, instruments, craft supplies, and fabric stash.
Over the years I have purchased all kinds of bins and boxes. What I’ve learned is buying the bins or organizations system first is almost always a recipe for waste and frustration. You need to assess what you’re actually keeping and what storage system you actually need before purchasing any kind of organizational boxes.
Almost always.
Several weeks ago I had picked a few things up from a craft store for a friend and there must have been a special running because after that trip I got a notice saying I had accrued $30 in rewards points. A couple days ago I received an email screaming in big red letters, my points were about to expire. So, I took a trip to the craft store, because it would be wasteful to just let that non-transferable $30 go unspent, right? I walked around, checking out the aisles that used to call my name and mostly just seeing shelves filled with the same types of items that now lay in donation piles and bags in my son’s room. At that point, I was feeling pretty good about my ability to resist temptation…(while standing in the middle of the craft store).
Then, I saw a wall of storage bins. I knew I was adressing games this week and had already decided that I’d like a few boxes to group smaller card games, as well as a bin or two to house some games that could take up much less space without their original box. So, I picked out a couple simple white metal and cardboard lidded containers, purchased them with my points and put them aside until game day today. Reward dollars well spent, right?
This afternoon I pulled out all my games, consolidating the keepers into those pretty white boxes. Now to find a space for the pretty white boxes. I tried them in three different places before sitting down in frustration. As I looked around, I noticed a vintage train case on my shelf. We use it to hold fidgets, scented putties, and other sensory input toys. I pulled it out and started to weed out the fidgets we never use, the putties that have been loved for too long and now smell like feet, etc. (Today’s decluttering started feeling a little like a sequel to “If You Give a Mouse a Muffin.) Once the train case was emptied, it was the perfect size for the card games and all the unboxed games. I thought, no problem, I’ll just use those boxes to separate some things in the craft dresser I cleaned out yesterday. Except they didn’t work in there either. They are currently in a large tote filled with all the other storage bins that have been rendered homeless during this process. Maybe I’ll find a use for them, maybe I’ll see if the store will take them back, maybe I’ll learn my lesson about buying storage bins before really evaluating my storage needs. Maybe.
Over the past week, I’ve begun filling my son’s room with all the items I’ve boxed and bagged for donations. He’s away at college, and so his room seemed the best place to store them. The common wisdom in decluttering is to get donations out of your house immediately, so they don’t become just differently-located clutter and so you’re not tempted to pull things back out of the bag. I’ve followed this advice before, but for this season I want to see the pile.
I had a friend many years ago who stuck a pound of butter in the freezer for every pound of weight she lost. This would totally backfire for me, as I would see the pile of butter and immediately begin planning out recipes to use it…but the visual was motivating for her. Any time she was frustrated at having “only” lost a pound between weigh-ins, she would hold a box of butter and think, “last week I was walking around with this on my body. Now I’m not. That’s significant.”
There’s an element of wanting to see that significance in why I’m keeping the donates for now. When I bring a bag to the donation center, it’s gone. I don’t have to think about it anymore. That quick release can be freeing. But it can also be an escape. Once I drop a bag off, I’m released from the stuff, and also from facing how much I accumulate and why I accumulated it. Immediately getting rid of donate bags can be getting rid of the evidence instead of getting rid of the problem.
Because the “stuff” is likely not the problem. Stuff is more often a symptom of a problem, so getting rid of stuff alone is often just managing symptoms.
Uncovering real can’t become symptom management, it needs to look past the symptoms, uncovering the underlying conditions of my heart. In order to understand the magnitude of the problem, I want to sit with the magnitude of the tangible stuff. I want to celebrate the pound of victory butter in my fridge, and also acknowledge all the extra pounds I’ve been storing up, and the realities which allowed it all entry into my space.
This week I’m sitting with seven bags – the ashes which remain of purses I thought would make my life easier, shoes on too good a sale to resist, and clothes I hoped would make me beautiful and accepted, along with items which were once appropriate and even necessary, but for a life I no longer have.
I’m letting go of what I don’t need in this season, letting it turn to ash so I can sit in humility, mortality, and intimacy, preparing to receive what’s next.
One rule I made up for myself while going through my clothes is that I have to try on every.single.thing. Even if I’m pretty sure I don’t want to keep it, I’m trying it on. Ok, not holey socks, but pretty much everything else. By forcing myself to do this, I’m discovering a couple things. First, it takes FOREVER. It’s kind of painful, which helps me realize the size of this project. It also helps me be real about how much stuff I have. It helps me be real in other ways, too. Trying on the clothes I’m not sure I like forces me to think about why I got them in the first place. Did I purchase it online without really looking at the size guide? Did I somehow think I would magically stop feeling strangled by things around my neck every time I bought those crew neck shirts? I’m sensing a pattern that I just don’t look good in brown. Forcing myself to go through the tedium of trying everything on sets a reminder in my brain that will (hopefully) help me not make those mistakes again,
Trying on the things I’m sure I want to keep confirms if that’s true. And sometimes it doesn’t. One of the things in my donate pile is a sweater I have worn constantly this past year. I put it on, looked in the mirror and decided, nope, you’re free to go. And if the item I’m trying on stays, I know I have it. I know I like it. I know it fits. Some things I don’t just try on – I make myself try it on as an outfit. Otherwise, that little defensive voice in my head says, “Oh, but you need this to go with that cute gray skirt.” Ok, voice, fine. Let’s try it on with the cute gray skirt. If it looks good, I have an outfit I know I like. If not, I have no qualms about adding it to the donate pile. Either way, it’s dealt with. Dana K. White, a decluttering blogger and speaker says, “Part of what you’re doing in decluttering is clearing the vagueness. One of the best perks of decluttering is awareness of what you have.”
I love that. I spent a large portion of the last two days decluttering my clothes. But now, I know exactly what I have and where it is. And now, if I walk into Target and see a sale on long cardigans, I know I have a shelf in my closet with plenty of long cardigans. I don’t need another.
Uncovering Real 