The Trials of an Aspiring Minimalist

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Just moments after the last of our holiday gifts were unwrapped, reality hit hard. My kids were buzzing with excitement, their eyes sparkling with the thrill of new toys, while my husband lounged contentedly in the bliss of holiday cheer—in other words, he was enjoying the fruits of my labor. But me? I was trapped in a whirlwind of panic: Oh my goodness, that’s a mountain of stuff! Where did all this junk come from? And what on earth are we going to do with it?! Regret washed over me for every holiday purchase I had ever made. All I wanted was for it to vanish. I was suffocating in my own living space.

We had done our pre-holiday toy cull, boxing up the toys and books that were gathering dust, but it was clearly inadequate. Where were we supposed to stow this new avalanche of items? We didn’t even have space for our old stuff! Must purge more… immediately!

We occupy a comfortable middle ground—not just during the holidays, but in our day-to-day life too. Our home is modest and devoid of extravagance. My husband and I share a single family car, my younger son is outfitted mostly in hand-me-downs, and we read books until their spines are practically begging for mercy.

While I may not be a true minimalist, I definitely identify as a wannabe minimalist. I often daydream about clean drawers and picture serene, uncluttered surfaces. I envision open spaces where every item has a designated spot and is neatly arranged.

Yet, despite my B+ level of minimalist aspirations, our possessions seem to multiply like rabbits, transforming our home into what resembles a Toys“R”Us clearance sale. Eventually, I reach the breaking point where I want to set everything ablaze.

The typical routine of a wannabe minimalist goes something like this: I ignore the clutter until it drives me crazy. In a fit of rage, I decide to trash everything. No, that’s wasteful; I’ll donate it all instead! I’ll stomp around the house demanding the kids deal with the overwhelming mountain of baseball cards that have taken over their bedroom, the kitchen counter, and the bathroom cabinet.

I’ll drop subtle hints to my husband about the mismatched socks and unworn sweaters cluttering his dresser and our bedroom floor. I’ll tear open closets, eager to offload anything that doesn’t spark joy, convinced that after a few trips to Goodwill, we’ll embrace a minimalist lifestyle that would make Marie Kondo weep tears of joy.

However, about thirty minutes into my grand decluttering mission—after filling a couple of boxes with old toys and tossing out a pair of ancient, holey underwear—I start to think that the only real solution is to move.

Then comes the inevitable second-guessing. What about that sparkly dress I wore to my husband’s office party five years ago? I should probably donate it—unless, of course, we get a last-minute party invite and I have nothing to wear because, heaven forbid, Amazon Prime goes down! What would I do then? I need a backup dress, even if I loathe it and it no longer fits.

And there’s no way I can toss out that bin of Lego Duplos; what if a gaggle of toddlers drops by and needs something to play with? And all those board games with missing pieces—what if there’s a snowstorm and we’re stuck inside for days? They could be our saving grace!

I’ve tried a variety of decluttering and organizing methods, and they work for a hot minute. But soon enough, we revert to our old habits, and before long, I’m drowning in a sea of Happy Meal toys, Pokémon cards, and decapitated action figures that haven’t been touched in three years. The struggle is real.

In fact, my home decluttering cycle resembles this: Try a new organizational strategy. Get lazy. Let clutter accumulate. Lose my mind and purge like a madwoman. Rinse and repeat.

Maybe the real issue isn’t the stuff we have but rather my inability to organize it effectively. Yup, that’s it! I just need to improve my organizing skills. That’s the solution!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must dash off for an emergency trip to the Container Store to spend an outrageous amount of money on more organizational tools so I can finally be a bona fide minimalist.

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Summary

The article humorously explores the challenges of aspiring to a minimalist lifestyle while juggling the chaos of family life. The author shares her struggles with accumulating possessions, the emotional rollercoaster of decluttering, and the constant cycle of trying to maintain order amidst the clutter. Ultimately, it’s a relatable narrative about the frustrations of wanting a minimalist home while navigating the realities of parenthood.