Stuff. My stuff, my husband’s stuff, my grown kids’ stuff, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about stuff, that we have too much of it, and how that happened, and perhaps most importantly what I’m going to do about it.
This is not new territory. It has been well trodden by brighter minds and clearer consciences than mine. Too much stuff is a burden. Too much stuff is wasteful, even sinful. Too much stuff is limiting, it hems you in and ties you down. If you are living in an affluent country, have a functioning soul and are minimally aware, you have likely wrestled with these questions yourself. Why do I have so much stuff? What prompts me to acquire more than I need? How did this happen and how can I change it?
My husband and I just took a load to Goodwill this afternoon. A witch costume and a high school graduation gown—good for Halloween; a dress my mom wore in the 50’s that I wore in a school play in the 70’s that hasn’t been worn by anyone since; a couple of those large inflatable exercise balls, with pumps; jackets no one wears, and a dress I made to go to a friend’s wedding in the early 90’s. The dress fabric I chose had big overblown peach roses on it. I added a lace collar and of course shoulder pads were a must back then. I know it sounds monstrous today, but in 1992, I had it going on when I wore that dress. Time for all of it to go though. These thoughts about stuff are allowing me to look, really look, in the closets and see what has purpose and usefulness and happiness, and what is just there out of habit.
On the way back, I asked my husband about the feelings he gets from buying something new. To be clear, he is not the problem here. He does have a big pile of boxes and bins in the garage to sort through, and his mail pile is a scandal, but he is frugal and conscientious in his buying habits. I am much more the culprit here. I’m getting better, but if someone brought something home that we already have one of, it was far more likely me than him. My question to him about the feelings linked to buying new things had to do with gaining perspective on my own habits rather than questioning him about his.
When you have enough shirts and you buy a new shirt, what is the feeling you are trying to get from buying a new shirt? That’s what I wanted to know. My husband is a thoughtful man and for some unknown reason persists in taking me seriously. He asked thoughtful questions like, was it on sale? Did I need a new shirt or did I just buy it because I wanted it? We discussed this seriously for about 10 minutes. That’s why we are happily married. We are weird in the same way.
In the end, this is what I concluded: I think we buy new things to push away the dark. If I get something new I am worthy. If I get something new I am good. If I get something new I have a fresh start. If I get something new I am growing and living and expanding, not hamstrung, not in danger, not in the dark. Crazy, all of it, really. But I think those are the feelings we are trying to get or get away from when we buy ourselves something new.
One thing that I put in the pile for Goodwill then took back out again and kept was an old cotton jacket. It was black when I bought it sometime in the ‘90s. I was living in San Francisco, before kids, working and just flirting with life, no real responsibilities yet. I found it at a warehouse store there that sold only 100% cotton clothing. This soft black jacket with big weird buttons, 2 layers of fabric sewn together, maybe 3. It has worn like iron and still fits me perfectly. Putting it on feels like coffee with a friend, homemade soup with saltine crackers and getting a letter from your dear old granny, all at once. It is comfort and happiness and warmth and remembrance. This is the kind of stuff, I decided, that it is OK to keep.
In the end, it is important to accept that the dark is there, as well as the light, and that to live our lives fully, we need to stop trying to push half of the equation away. Or, that’s what I tell myself anyway.
Thanks for reading.