Struggles of a Would Be Minimalist

Our little family of three is nearing the end of its long slow crawl to home ownership. As we begin to pack up our belongings, I pause to take stock of these things that have survived all the phases of our lives so far. There's stuff from the past seven years since our daughter was born. There’s a bunch of junk from the six years my husband and I were married, but still childless. And I can’t forget the crap we brought into the mix as singles.

With the space in our two bedroom apartment being so limited, and constantly accumulating more stuff, I feel the walls closing in on me. It’s not even nice stuff. It’s annoying, forgettable plastic knick knacks and Ikea furniture that we are now stuck with. It does not, as they say, “bring me joy.”

If you’re a fan of the grumpy old man comedy genre and don’t mind a few swear words, check out George Carlin’s bit about “stuff.” It’s a classic.

I noticed that wealthier people don’t have their houses crammed with stuff. They have wide open spaces and someone else to keep them clean. I hate clutter. It makes my mind chaotic. I know this because whenever I get rid of stuff, clean up, and organize my space, I feel ready to conquer the world. It would be nice to relax and not have to wage a constant battle against the ever expanding piles of clutter or risk being buried alive.

The stuff comes at you fast when you have a kid.

There are so many little pieces of plastic (tiny toys and accessories) and every event seems to accumulate more. Occasions where people used to give out candy, they now give out cheap little plastic toys. There is a tendency for people to buy this stuff because it seems like the right thing to do. Their heart is in the right place. For example, on Halloween I’ve seen people giving out more non-edible treats to help the kids with allergies feel included.

Piñatas are also more likely to contain plastic toys instead of candy. “We just don’t want to load them with all that sugar,” they say. As a parent I totally understand that impulse, but given the mess we’re in with the planet, shouldn’t we curb this expectation?

Our daughter’s last pre-covid birthday was at Chuck E Cheese (her choice). I wanted to spare the other parents the Goody Bag of junk to be played with for three seconds, then forgotten and either scooped into a container to join its little plastic crap brethren or sucked up into the vacuum cleaner.

Target had these books with fun facts about dinosaurs, space, and sharks. I got enough for every kid to choose. I figured each kid would take home a book, a bag of cotton candy, and the ring off the top of their cupcake.

One of the fathers approached me and asked “Could I trouble you for a goody bag?” I was so confused, I explained that each kid got a bag of cotton candy, a book, and a ring, plus whatever prize they won with their tickets. Surely that was enough. But this guy felt slighted somehow. Children’s birthday party = goody bag!

We don’t have a maid or the free time to maintain a minimalist lifestyle.

Working all day makes me not want to tidy up and it is hard to get the rest of the family to help. I can’t afford to hire someone to clean and I have no free time to organize anything. That’s not true… I could cut out spending time with my kid or sleeping or actually enjoying my life for one second!

We can’t afford the initial investment of nicer stuff.

One of the main tenets of minimalism is about having a few high quality essentials. When you’re on a budget, the tendency is to buy a cheaper version of something that won’t last rather than to forgo it until you can afford the durable version. It’s a trap. You might even buy a duplicate of something you already have simply because you can’t find it in your mountain of useless shit.

It would strain my relationships with my husband and my daughter if I asked them to get rid of their old stuff.

Although we subscribe to streaming services, my husband still wants to keep physical copies of his favorites because you don’t really own streaming movies and they may decide to remove them at any time. He’s probably right, but he has a lot of favorites.

I try really hard to cycle out old books and toys when my daughter gets new ones. I fail because she has a secret weapon called “That is special to me.” She looks up at me with big watery eyes and uses this phrase when she wants to win an argument about getting rid of her old stuff. Works every time.

I know I’m not alone. My friends, especially those with kids, like to commiserate about the stuff they just can’t seem to get rid of. They feel powerless in spite of all the expert advice out there.

Some of this is definitely my fault.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not blaming my family. A third of this stuff is mine! I’m holding onto an embarrassing collection of dust covered relics. It’s not pathological. I can shrink the pile when I am determined enough, but after a few weeks it just slides back into chaos.

A home is like its own little ecosystem, a comfortable place for our treasures. Why does mine feel like a polluted beach? I’m so overwhelmed. I’d love to just light a match and torch it. Wow. Okay, that was dramatic! Maybe I’ll start by cleaning off my desk.