Welcome Nika Harper to WWdN! She’s sharing this guest-post-story-thing with us while Wil Wheaton is at sea. Check out other stories and writing at nikaharper.tumblr.com and various reading/gaming on YouTube. Her penchant for unusual cocktails is the genuine best.
The first thing to go is the easy stuff; the junk that you needed to clean anyway.
Boxes, trash, procrastinated piles of rubble left behind from a trip to the electronics store or a night in with pizza. Normal things that should be cleaned, are broken or useless but nonetheless make up a small percentage of your life. Yes, you feel strong, but relief is fleeting. As soon as it’s gone, it’s forgotten.
You won’t notice the missing burden, the assumption is it was never there.
The second thing is organization, and it comes at a cost.
Plotting every step of your routine, shuffling and sorting the necessities from the unique items, crafting mental boxes like “fun” or “useful” or “special.” Applying sortable tags that make the culling easier. Categorize, agonize, simplify, look with the eyes of a stranger.
“Good for me.”
“Reliable.”
“Exhausting.”
“Better in memory.”
The third thing is utility, and it requires diligence.
You can survive with nothing, sustain with little, thrive with ample, drown with excess. Those labeled boxes drip and overflow as you toss them, one by one by one, closing your eyes and trusting instinct.
Pretend there isn’t room. Pretend you already don’t have it. Look away, throw away, push harder, squeeze tighter.
The fourth thing is sentimentality. It hurts.
Everything disappears, someday. This time you make the choice.
Take pictures. Hold it close. Store it in your memory. Let it go.
The fifth thing, and the last one, is everything you’ve forgotten.
Overlooked comforts. What made your life your own. What separated hotel from home. Everything you took for granted, reached for, and had nothing but air to grasp. The feeling of loss.
Yet, it’s over. The repair, the replacement, they begin along the way. It’s exhilarating to live on bare minimum. Only what you need. A restart. The elation of being lean and agile. The first step in a clean new life. The ability to build up what is needed, nothing more.
Then the second step is doubt…
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Nika – spectacular piece of writing. I can tell you’ve been doing it for a long time. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re totally hot.
“Doesn’t hurt that you’re totally hot.”
A) what does her level of perceived attractiveness have to do with her writing, and B) would you be saying that if the writer was male?
Nika, I really appreciate the article; it gave me a lot to think about. It’s been disconcerting, as somebody who is breaking away from home, to look in my tiny dorm and realize that everything in here is all I now possess, but at the same time, the idea of minimizing the clutter is appealing. It’s not easy to be a neat artist, though, unless you’re into minimalism!
Well said / written. Much appreciated both for though and for form.
Loved this. You nailed it perfectly. Did the same thing once and I am looking to do it again. This time I remember coming home to a room full of boxes I had paid to keep yet forgotten how to miss. Best of luck in your downsizing and the next bit of your adventure.
I’d definitely have a problem with the organizing part. I mean, if I made the boxes labeled:
“Good for me.”
“Reliable.”
“Exhausting.”
“Better in memory.”
I would most likely put the “Reliable” box in the “Good for me.” box because being reliable is good for me. Then I would put the “Good for me.” box with it’s contents into the “Exhausting.” box because just thinking about the other two boxes is emotionally exhausting for me which would make me want to for forget all of this, leading to placing the “Exhausting.” box and it’s contents into the “Better in memory.” Lastly, I would make an “Over-scrutinizing sadness.” box and put the “Better in memory.” in side of that box because of reasons…
The first thing is tiramisu.
It’s also all subsequent things.
Nika – your writing is so clear. It provides me with the kind of blueprint I need for downsizing my life and moving on after the loss of my husband of 31 years. As I go through his things trying to decide what to dispose of and what to keep, I have those decisions to make.
For me, the next step isn’t doubt, it’s fear: fear that as soon as I dispose of something I will need it and I will not be able to get it back. I really think it’s just fear of moving on without him.