Minimalism
The good, the bad, and the ugly
Minimalism is a concept I’ve admired, devoured, and dismantled since its first takeover from art to our day-to-day lives.
I admired its elegance in mere simplicity, as the French so often embody.
I devoured its roots, assuming it merely be black and white — submerging myself within little to nothingness, dismantling its meaning.
When I first engorged myself in the concept of a minimalistic lifestyle, it became a hobby.
I’d already had the bare minimum to my name and hadn’t held desire for much beyond it, more so the opposing — for a reason beyond me, living with the absolute bare minimum appealed to me.
I will be forever grateful for my opportunity I had last summer to travel to Canada, through Europe, as I ceaselessly daydreamed and romanticized a life fueled by what I could fit in a carry on.
Months leading up to my departure, I was already eager to rid of anything I could — after all, I’d be travelling for a significant amount of time.
I convinced myself that I didn’t need much to be left back home, and atop this, I held a profound hope that I’d find a new life to begin without the things I’d left behind anyway.
I sold/donated a majority of my clothes and items, including my car — it’s safe to say that this hope of a new beginning was nothing short of pure passion.
During my travels, I enjoyed the inevitable innovation that came with living from a suitcase, most likely because I had Europe at my fingertips.
Though, when I came back home to reality that held near nothing for me, I quickly felt disconnected, alone, and as a stranger to my own life.
As I was faced with nothing but a void, I realized that my hopes and expectations were a little too specific and demanding given a short amount of time.
Amidst my sorrow and nothing to grasp onto for comfort, I sought guidance.
I began researching more into minimalism, starting with Soulful Simplicity by Courtney Carver, which lead me to Slow by Brooke McAlary.
Both held a theme I was desperate to grasp: getting back to what brings you joy (what truly matters) and setting free the opposing.
I began exerting myself and engaging with my own life, which felt as if the first time, seeking what did vs. didn’t hold value to me.
Suddenly, I started to find joy in abundance of things (thanks to the listless inspiration that is Pinterest)…
I, soon, lost myself week after week, spending endless hours and even more endless dollars on online shopping, and scouring the aisles for anything that could bring me joy.
I began to create a synonym of joy with abundance and accumulation.
And yet, I still felt empty buried beneath the definition of copious in material items I’d rarely used.
I grew exhausted, still feeling as a stranger to my own life.
I have a couple theories as to why my goal of “getting back to what matters” grew out of hand:
- Fulfilling my basic human need for connection is not done with ease through my day-to-day life; I must consciously and continuously work to achieve it being filled in a healthy manner.
Therefore, when I grow tired of the work, my need for connection remains unsatisfied, and when any of our three basic needs (satisfaction, pleasure, and connection) are unmet, we subconsciously seek to fill them, which are oftentimes in harmful ways.
Buying and accumulating gave me that boost of enthusiasm and warmth we so often get from connections with others and was done so far too easily.
2. I had an abundance of space before me, which, as someone with natural human tendencies, subconsciously felt the deep urge to fill these spaces.
Frankly, it could be a mixture of both reasons, but I’m thankful to have found somewhat of an understanding, nonetheless.
Of course, with any problem we engage with, we must admit we have one, which I have…multiple times.
Soon I realized that what I’d neglected was not merely limited to acting consciously and engaging with self-awareness, but also utilizing what I had as if it mattered — seeing and truly believing it was enough.
I wrote more on this here.
With winter slowly creeping up through each night, and my closet embodying unprepared as its finest, I was excited to be stepping foot in my favorite thrift stores again, and more so that I had a good reason to.
I made a list of specifics I was looking for, as I would at the grocery store to keep from buying anything opposing, and eased into this desire of mine that so easily turns sour.
Yesterday, I had a thrifting day with my sister, which, for some reason when I shop with her, gets me back into the mindset of hungry for more.
I, once again, bit off more than I could chew, but am thankful to have snapped out of it once we parted ways for the day — tomorrow I will be returning the unnecessary items I decided don’t fit my needs in clothing.
And even so, with my closet full, I had this wave of guilt, keeping me from enjoying what I’ve obtained.
In this moment, I’ve been reminded of gratitude, in being appreciative of not only a day with my sister, but a closet full of clothes ready to take on the frigid winds of the months to come.
Clothes are a necessity, mugs are a necessity, shoes are a necessity, blankets, sanitizer, everything from menial to significant is a necessity for our survival as well as our wellbeing.
I’d lived in a mindset of survival for so long, I’d forgotten that life was also meant to be enjoyed.
The small things — the mug and sanitizer I mentioned — I never cared much about this stuff, or anything as menial while in the mindset of wanting less.
And I was unhappy…I was unhappy because I always settled for my life, I never chose it.
Even if it was simply choosing bubblegum scented hand sanitizer as opposed to the one that smells of medicine, it still made a significant difference in my levels of contentment.
And the only time choosing became a problem was when I wasn’t actively appreciating what I had when I finally had it, where it was never enough, leaving me with a void to fill.
I’m embarrassed about this, and this alone perhaps might discount everything I’ve just said, but call me Walt Whitman anyways as I’m about to subtly contradict myself:
The last item on my list of clothing for winter was a thigh-length, leather trench coat either in maroon, olive, or navy.
It was a long shot finding this exact match at a thrift store, and frankly, department stores aren’t my first choice, simply because this exact is nothing less of $100.
Out of all of my favorite thrift stores visited yesterday, all of the trench coats were black, and this wasn’t a detail I was going to overlook as I already own a black leather jacket.
This morning, I [mistakenly] began searching online for this leather desire, finding one that came in olive and maroon…half off!
My heart screamed, and what did I do?
I bought both.
I ripped up my winter clothes shopping list and starred at my closet until I felt that it was enough.
I’m done, I swear it!
More on how I learned to be a conscious shopper soon ❤
