It’s already been a week since we said goodbye our 2005 square foot home, donating about 80% of our worldly possessions to go along with it. 80% of everything we’ve acquired in our adult lives – and some that we’ve been hanging on to for even longer than that. Scott said goodbye to his first car in this transition (a 1962 Mercury Meteor he bought at 15) and I let go of the idea that I had to be wildly wealthy or enviably successful to enjoy my life. We all have stuff we hang on to.
The emotional pain of extreme downsizing is real.
I’ve thought of 180 profound ways to start this story off, but profundity and perfection are exactly the type of thing that will keep me from ever writing at all, so here we go. Chronicling this experience is something I need to do so that I never forget how hard it was to get here, the pain of choosing courage over comfort, and drastically taking back control of our lives from the flow of more is better, and bigger is best. The pain of extreme downsizing is real; having to examine the things you’ve purchased, consider hanging on to many of them strictly because of their cost, and eventually face the waste of not only your money but the most valuable, completely non-renewable resource you have: time.
All that stuff costs time. Like, a lot of time. Hours to clean and work to house ALL THESE THINGS. And all the while you’re paying for the privilege of its burden.
So we packed the remaining 20% of our stuff into this pod (and a 5×5 storage unit while we build our tiny house) but there’s no question we’re going to have to double down on this initial downsize before we can comfortably live in our mortgage-free 350 square foot abode-to-be.
I mean, I’m not as pretentious as I sound – I don’t Actually DO any of those things.
It’s been said that the greatest benefit you’ll ever get from a material purchase is the moment you buy it. It’s literally all downhill from there until even the most beloved item becomes something unpleasant you have to “deal with” – clean, sell, donate, store, what have you – negating the joy out of having acquired it in the first place. What if you never bought that item. Or what if you only bought half of those items. What if you put that cash in an envelope and eventually took a trip to Hawaii? Or Pompeii? Or The Valley of the Kings? Just…what if?
I mean, I’m not as pretentious as I sound – I don’t DO any of those things. I spend my money the second I get it, and I spend it on crap that absolutely no one truly needs. And, well, as a compulsive shopper in one of the most expensive cities in the world, something had to change. Instead, we’re changing everything. Our lifestyle is getting a complete overhaul from our careers to our financial habits, to our city. Scott and I found ourselves unemployed at the same moment in time and decided to jump.
Stay tuned as we figure out how to land.