Downsizing

When starting to plan the daunting task of a year of travel, it’s hard to know where to start. For me, I can’t take stock of things until I have a clean space. I can’t even start to create a list, when I’m surrounded, overwhelmed, tethered and drowning in….things, STUFF. So, naturally, I started with downsizing my life.

Throwing stuff away starts as a negotiation, becomes an art, and then quickly dissolves into a complete and utter obsession.

Sam to sweater: I haven’t worn you in two years, you’re outta here!
Sweater: You may need me again. Better to keep me now, than to
risk spending more money to buy another sweater in the
future, when you could have had me all along.
Sam: You bastard!
Sweater: Checkmate.

But once you learn how to play, de-cluttering your life is an art. The key is to get rid of something you really don’t want to part with, something you can live without, but don’t want to. For me, it was a pair of DKNY shoes. I loved those shoes, dammit. But, there is no room for strappy, purple, three-inch heels in Cambodia. So, I consigned them and I got $20 back. After that, I couldn’t get rid of things fast enough. The hardest part is making the decision. But once the decision is made, once those shoes are destined for a new owner, it’s really quite easy to just keep going. Addictive, even. I found that once I started chucking things, I just kept right on chucking. And very quickly, I became obsessed with downsizing my life. My sniper-gaze would look around my apartment, and nothing was safe.

Clothes, shoes, books, furniture, keepsakes, tchotckes, papers, CDs, DVDs, electronics, my amazing collection of wristbands from bars & clubs, every single ticket stub from every movie I’ve seen since the 7th grade… All of it. The more I got rid of, the lighter I felt. It was like a new haircut, or losing 10 pounds. The feeling was addictive and amazing…it all just had to go.

Saying goodbye to my books hurt the most. But like the shoes, once I gave one book away, the rest just followed. It helped to imagine my favorite books with happy new owners. I left my receipts inside, and love-worn bookmarks, to leave a bit of myself in the books I loved so much. I’ve always fantasized of a house filled with books, bookshelves to the ceiling and my happy little friends there to read, re-read or loan. I’ve fantasized more of travel, however, so tough decisions need to be made. Now I imagine an empty house, with empty bookshelves and it feels oddly satisfying. All that space, waiting to be filled; all that space, allowing me to be elsewhere. I feel more free, untied.

We live with so much stuff. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. And I started to ask myself, what do I really need? Not to just take with me on my travels, but in total. The idea of all my things fitting into two suitcases and a carry-on is very tempting. I can leave at any moment, and travel within the rules & regulations of every major airline. The commitment-phobe in me delights in the thought of living small to live, well, large. Why have a house filled with furniture and shoes and books, when you can have the world as your bookshelves?

I still have some tough stuff decisions to make, and I’m not getting rid of everything entirely – I know my mother is thrilled to inherit an entire jewelry and shoe collection (on loan!) – but I’m happy knowing that I am leaving very little behind.

Looking around my empty room and blank walls, it’s easier to say goodbye. It’s also easier to remember the important stuff. I am thinking much more about the friends and family I am leaving behind, and the friends and family I have yet to meet. Stuff is just stuff, anyway.