Getting rid of everything and going wherever the wind floated me.
It’s something I actually enjoy doing. Completely unburdening myself and starting from scratch.
When I moved up here from San Diego, I had all of my belongings in one bag. I took to Craigslist before that move, and sold everything else. Literally, everything. My iron went for $6, and my picture frames for $20. Somebody even bought my bed, which always kind of weirded me out (didn’t they know what the girl I used to be had done on that bed over the 3 years it had been mine?!?) but I kind of just figured – to each their own. If they were cool with sleeping on a used bed, who was I to judge?
When I got up here, I slept on an air mattress for a while. Spread out with my few belongings, as I slowly began accumulating more. Nothing beyond what I needed at first. But then… the things I had needed had a way of becoming less and less needed over time.
Now, I have a fully furnished condo that I've put a ton of work into making a home.
Everything I could ever need, and more. A life cluttered by “stuff” again. Books and Tupperware. Trinkets and gadgets. A yoga ball I’ve never used. Candles I’ve never lit. Even a guitar I’ve never been able to play that sits in the corner of my room.
A house full of things. So many more things than could ever fit in the bag I brought up here.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the possibility of leaving next year. Of dumping it all and starting over again. A trip like that is one where you don’t want to be weighed down by too much “stuff”. A few t-shirts and a jacket. 2 pairs of jeans and a swimsuit. Hiking boots and flip flops. Everything else you may need, you can get as you go. But the main goal is to keep it light. To leave yourself unencumbered by things. Ready and able to leave at a moment’s notice and seek out whatever the next adventure may be.
And as I’ve been thinking about that simplified life, I’ve found myself looking around at this home I’ve made and wondering how I would pick and choose. How I would dismantle the life I’ve built yet again, and start all over.
Downsizing at its most extreme.
There is a lot that could happen between now and a year from now. A lot of things that could change or come into my life that would make leaving no longer seem like such an attractive option. I have no idea what the future holds.
Like I was telling my already panicking father just a few days ago though - no one thought I would do it when I announced I would be moving to Alaska a year in advance either. I kind of have a way of bringing my far-fetched plans to fruition... even when no one thinks I will.
Even when my poor father would love nothing more than to lock me away in a shed if it would keep me from picking up and leaving the country all by my lonesome.
But one thing I have a gut feeling about is that this home I love isn’t going to be mine for much longer. I’ve even lost the desire to put much more effort into it. The cabinets still need to be re-finished, and the appliances really could stand to be replaced, but what’s the point? If I really believe I may be leaving in a year, why put in the effort? The time and money? The hard work that I wouldn’t even be able to enjoy for long?
I’ve been thinking about downsizing and starting over. Running my fingers over my “stuff” and wondering what would go first. What, if anything, I wouldn’t be able to part with.
I like the idea of starting over and ridding my life of all these things.
But I have been wondering; how many times can one downsize her life?
How many times, before she builds an existence she no longer wants to start over?
