Moving, Reducing, and Stuff
I kind of like moving. Some aspects of it anyway.
I mean, you'd think we loved it, seeing it's our sixth move in five years, but each shift had a good reason (except for maybe the one before this one — we wanted to pay less in rent, and wound up being miserable for a year, “getting what we paid for,” so to speak).
And this time I feel like we finally found the best fit for our family (right now).
Moving can make you take stock of everything — the things you own, the people in your life — what stays, what needs to go.
Every move I, frustrated, tell myself I have to change my shopping habits. And every move I likely produce more bags of donations than boxes to transfer to the new place.
But this is part of the appeal of moving for me: having to reduce and/or reorganize.
My brain is systematic and solution-oriented: I love figuring out new ways to make things work, or improve on something's function.
And I like that although we gained a ton of livable space with this move, we lost probably half the storage, including a pantry altogether. This constriction required reduction and creative manuevering. One encouraged me to let go, and the other to flex some underutilized brain power.
I have a problem with things. As I've gotten more active in the Autistic community, I can see the pattern amongst the lot of us.
As a neurodiverse person, I need order; but I also collect things — plants, books, and bags being my most noticeable "problem" areas.
But if I were to practice the Konmari Method1, they all bring me joy as individuals and as collections, so that approach doesn't really hold water in my house...
The other excess offenders are "back-up" items: extra vitamins, beauty products, skin care, and shower supplies. But those items in a basket in my closet and in a small cabinet in my bedroom are what I refer to as "Meltdown Mitigators;" because, unlike my husband who can notice in the shower that his body wash is getting low, continue about his shower and (maybe even a day or so later) while he's grocery shopping, actually remembers, oh, yeah, let me grab more body wash while I'm here.
I cannot.
How my brain functions one of two ways:
Oh, my bar soap is getting low. As soon as I'm dried off I should go grab a new one from the cabinet; or
Dammit! I ran out of soap! Then quick-as-I-can jet to the back-ups cabinet, naked (hoping I closed the shades), dripping water everywhere, and grab a new bar of soap.
But my solution is still the same: have extra soap on-hand at all times.
How do these back-up items make it into the back-up zones, you might ask: I have “Reorder Care Items” recurring task every 3 months programmed onto my digital calendar; which when the week of reordering arrives, the recurring task gets hand-written into my bullet journal when the time comes to restock so I never run out.
My husband hates my back-ups system (and all my books and bags; he likes the plants, at least) because he dislikes "stuff" and clutter — even tucked away, out of sight in a closet or cabinet, because he knows it’s there — but it's my tried-and-true solution to quasi poor executive function.
If you're not a part of the neurodivergent community or are unfamiliar with the term, as defined by Merriam-Webster2: executive function is the group of complex mental processes and cognitive abilities (such as working memory, impulse inhibition, and reasoning) that control the skills (such as organizing tasks, remembering details, managing time, and solving problems) required for goal-directed behavior.
And since most neurodivergent people tend to have poor executive function we have to find workarounds to get through life.
Prior to Autism diagnosis (not even knowing what Autism actually was), I started creating these systems because my life, work, and relationships took hits constantly as I struggled to keep track of things and mitigate key problem areas.
I would misplace my keys every day, so I bought a hook to hang near the front door, and trained myself to register the click of the dead bolt with hang up your keys or grab your keys. And even if I’m just going to the trash chute down the hall, I always grab my keys as to not break the habit.
Then I evolved the hook, later getting a mounted rack that held my jacket, purse and keys, because those items needed a landing spot too.
But, as I list these executive function workarounds they all equal more stuff…
Yet I go onto make those big decisions — what stays and what goes — anyhow. And instead of holding an item to my heart for a moment, and asking myself if it sparks joy, I ask myself questions like:
What function does this have?
Does it improve my life?
Did I use this in the last two years? In the last year?
Will I use this in the next year?
Then lastly, if necessary:
Can I borrow this from someone else, and if not, how expensive is it to replace? (If I need it again, say, in a few years — why keep it around if it’s inexpensive and someone else can use it regularly… you may be able to borrow it from them later, if need be.)
And if you have a good deal of undecided items and the storage space to do this, you can always try the Packing [Party] Method3 where you pack up items into cardboard boxes and label them appropriately. If it's been, we'll say, a year and you still haven't opened the box, it's probably safe to donate it at the end of the year.
We currently have four of those said "just in case we need it" boxes in our storage unit.
Nobody's perfect.
But in a year’s time, if I didn’t even open those boxes in storage, they’ll get donated without a second thought.
And here are 5 more things this week:
As a short story writer, I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t read a story collection in a while. But I just finished Life and Other Shortcomings: Stories by Corie Adjmi. You can read my Goodreads review here.
‘Rejection gave me a fresh start, a new year,’ by Jami Attenberg on The Guardian.
7 Daily Habits That Harm Your Brain, by Sinem Günel on Medium.
Why Rich People Avoid Consumerism, by Darius Foroux on Medium.
“Simplicity involves unburdening your life, and living more lightly with fewer distractions that interfere with a high quality life, as defined uniquely by each individual.” —Linda Breen Pierce
All my best,
Sara
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