I would like to be a minimalist.
I really would. The idea appeals to me on a deep level. Only what is necessary. Sigh. Oh, the peace and simplicity. Except….
Except I don’t think that is who I truly am.
I would deeply miss my collection of plants. And books. And my gallery wall. And my couch full of pillows. I like cozy, and true minimalism seems rather sterile. Let’s say I lean towards minimalism.
I have, however, spent the better part of a year getting rid of stuff. I’ve never been a hoarder or anything, but stuff has a way of multiplying over time, especially when you live with other people. Every so often the urge to purge will hit again and I will spend days going through drawers and cupboards and closets. It feels so SATISFYING to give/throw away unused and unnecessary things. Cleansing. Lighter. AHH..order.
I am definitely not a type A personality- rules, schedules, and perfect order are against my natural tendencies. But I have a new respect for the peace and simplicity they bring. To an increasing degree, I crave it, actually. In many ways this has spilled over into other areas of my life.
Tossing the word “should” out of my vocabulary has freed me from a false sense of obligation to commitments or ways of being that I don’t identify with. My time can be invested in what I deem worthy. I can cultivate my character to be what I value.
I’ve learned to stop stuffing my feelings like that closet where everything goes to die, because eventually it bursts open and someone ends up under an avalanche of crap. I examine emotions as they ‘break’, and either repair them or throw them out by confronting or deciding to let it go.
I’ve given up habits that did not serve me well, were time-wasters, money-wasters, or all three. This has given me space to form beneficial habits that promote peace and well-being.
Declutter. Simplify. I’ve grown quite fond of these words. They mean less is more. They mean what remains is valuable and of quality.
I can live with that.