The Abundance of Paring Down

I threw out That Sweater today, finally. Maybe you have one in your closet, too. It’s the one that needs mending, serious mending. I don’t know how to mend a sweater. Some people might have just thrown it out four years ago when the armpit seam ripped, leaving a big gaping armpit hole. But I loved that sweater. And my body type isn’t the easiest to shop for. And we’ve been struggling with money ever since we’ve been out on our own. I never found an exact replacement at a thrift store, and I don’t have the money to buy new clothes, so my opportunities for finding That Sweater we’re extremely limited, and the chances infinitesimally unlikely. I couldn’t justify spending the money to repair it, either, with such cheap duds available at the Salvation Army and Goodwill. So I’ve bought and worn other sweaters, and in the meantime, I have accumulated a box in my closet that contains about ten items of “Clothing I’d Like To Wear Again, Once I Can Figure Out How to Mend Them or Have Them Repaired. Or Hemmed. Or Taken In. Or Otherwise Altered.”

There are only ten things in that box. But they weigh a ton. They take up room. They make me feel poor. It’s one thing to be broke, but it’s another to feel poor. Looking at those clothes, I am reminded each time I open my closet door that I --- We --- Don’t Have Enough. In capital letters. Not enough money. Not enough nice clothes. Not enough space to keep things. Not enough time. My life, our home life, is cluttered. And until recently, I was missing a big reason why that was so.

I have been holding on to things that are a little bit broken, or that I don’t use or wear often, but I might someday in the future, because unconsciously I had a fear that if and when I did want something like this, I wouldn’t have enough money to replace it, and I wouldn’t have anything better, different, to stand in for it. I’d better keep everything, because I Don’t Have Enough right now and I Might Never Have Enough.

Ironically, the clutter in my house sometimes reaches stranglehold proportions. I would be so much better off if I’d just box this stuff up and give it to Goodwill, the SPCA, Freecycle, or if need be, the dump. I’d have more room to breathe. I’d stop feeling guilty for not knowing how to sew (and yes, I even have a broken sewing machine in my basement, because Someday I’ll Have It Fixed And I’ll Learn How To Sew.”

My house, though it looks presentable to the average visitor most of the time, is for me a minefield of broken promises, projects deferred, nagging reminders of skills not yet acquired or body types not currently in residence. Guilt, everywhere you look. And doubt. Doubt that we’ll ever be able to afford a new sweater that I love as much as I loved this one. Doubt that I’ll ever be able to afford to buy a new sewing machine (have you priced sewing machines lately? Of course I can. I could afford one now, if I really wanted to prioritize that.) Perhaps these doubts are coupled with feelings that I don’t really deserve a new sewing machine, because “how bad would I feel if I bought one, and if IT just sat in the corner like this (old, broken) one has for five years since I saved it from the junkyard.”

What negativity. What toxic, toxic negativity. When I face it all head-on, there’s a shocking amount of self-loathing represented here by the clutter in my house.

I will be able to find, and afford, a sweater that I like and that fits me. That Sweater with the rip? Toss. I will be able to afford, and will make time to use, a sewing machine --- if and when I want to take up that hobby. The broken machine? Freecycle. I will be able to find pants, and tops, and who knows what else, that will suit me as well as whatever is in this box of “Clothing I’d Like To Wear Again, If…” I’m not even going to examine the contents; I just want those things to be gone. If tackling that box feels difficult, like too much of a stretch for my newfound awareness and ability, maybe I’ll ask a friend to look through it for me, without baggage or prejudice, to toss what’s damaged, and donate what’s useable.

It’s time to begin going through the rooms of my house. It might take months, but I’m going to fling anything and everything that makes me feel bad. Anything that nags me, gnaws away at me. I do have enough. I have enough right now, even if our income never increases one bit. I don’t need to bog myself down with clutter, telling myself it’s frugal and environmentally conscious of me to hold on. It’s time to let go.

Here it begins!