My daughters and I stopped by the thrift store today to look for some needed winter items. We enjoy browsing around as well, finding bargains from time to time. Today, on our way out, my younger daughter noticed an awesome, pink Barbie pickup truck and camper in the free bin. Since the price was right, I went ahead and let her get the item, knowing how much she's been enjoying those dolls presently. The only caveat- we'd have to pick some items to donate because these new items were pretty big.
Once we got home, we headed to the bedroom to look for items that could be swapped out. There was a major hullabaloo about my thoughtless suggestion of donating some Lincoln Logs, though the set had not been played with for years. My middle-school aged son protested deeply and loudly, despite his typical lack of interest in the old building set. As my oldest daughter likes to say (regarding battlefield strategy), "that's not the hill you want to die on"; I decided to let that one lie presently and we discovered other items to purge. It was in the midst of all this that I was really hit suddenly by the weight of all this stuff.
We, I hate to admit, have a "stuff" problem. Our stuff accumulates to the point that it chokes our tiny home. Things that we need can't be found; it's difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff. Items we'd like to use are difficult to get to, or are lost or overlooked because of other unused items, or we simply don't have the place to adequately enjoy them (like train cars my son got from his grandfather-to use them requires a pretty big space commitment).
On the one hand, it seems downright ludicrous to complain about having too much. Talk about a first world problem! But, we are here in the first world, and these are the times and unique situations we happen to be in. And though we try to keep our consumption in check and thoughtfully and mindfully spend for special occasions like birthdays and Christmas, we aren't Spartans by any means. We enjoy celebrating life in all its stages. If there's a bell curve with massively consumeristic folks at one end and folks who live with virtually nothing on the other, I'd bet we're fair to middlin' (or perhaps just a touch on the lighter-consumption side). Also, knowing how to let something go that once gave you joy is monumentally difficult, even for adults. After all, the self-storage industry is partly built up on the failure we tend to have as a people to both consume less and to let things go.
Then again, certainly it's difficult to determine what to do with things at times. We've got an enormous box of small child-sized ski boots. They don't fit anyone in our family, and there are no skis to match. I'll try to offer them to the thrift store. They aren't recyclable, and I'd hate for them to end up in a landfill, but they also may have outlived their useful life and are well worn, perhaps even too worn to be fit to other skis. How many times can these boots be handed down before buckles and straps and bindings just don't work anymore? Or what if you happen to have a TV or a computer you need to get rid of? What about old power cords or a broken blender? You can't sell or donate or even give away for free most old tech. You'll probably wind up paying someone to take it off your hands.
People used to talk about folks in my Grandparents' generation being pack rats because of going through the Great Depression and living with scarcity. They'd horde up twine or old newspapers; we're doing the same thing with boxes or drawers of old computer cables and power cords. I'm not sure what our problem is, as it's certainly not the same issue.
I read a book about purging stuff by Marie Condo about a decade ago. She suggests holding onto the item in question and deciding whether it sparks joy. That seems a bit simplistic because there are many items (like my vacuum cleaner) that I need but don't feel passionate about. Then there is the question of how to get rid of the unwanted items. As a thrift store shopper, I get annoyed when I buy pants with a broken zipper, a shirt with a small stain or an appliance that doesn't work. Also, sometimes the work to organize and sell a useful item or even to hall something broken away is JUST TOO MUCH right now. All of this winds up feeling so effort-ful that other more important things like washing dishes or making dinner or coloring take over for my time and attention.
For now, I include my children in the conversation about letting those childhood items go. These items do belong to them, and I think it's important to give them time to obtain this skill, though I do slip items of lessor favor out from time to time. Now and then, I'll go on a purge fest and try to par back some of the items that have fallen to the wayside. Most of the time, I'll suffer from some mild inattentional blindness around the issue. Sometimes I feel and see the weight of the excess, and sometimes I don't.
