WRITING: How I separated from my "stuff"
Now that my blog is out of commission, I am taking the opportunity to examine how I approach my writing, what I choose to publish widely, and why.

I am using my medium account for writing now, which generally houses work regarding healing, personal development, and social justice, and is much more formal than the think pieces I have habitually written to the blog. 

This is a revisitation of an old blog post I was particularly proud of writing two years ago, that I posted and updated recently. It pertains to my mobile life and how I came from where I was to where I am now in terms of belongings. 


Hope everything is going great with all of you <3


Living Small: How I separated from my ‘stuff’

At one point when I was about 15, I realized that I’d never be able to run away from home unless I figured out what of my belongings, only enough that could be stuffed into my acoustic guitar case, were actually important to me.

There was something beautiful about the fantasy of owning only what I carried with me inside that case. It is still a fantasy, but, it is a fantasy that now materializes much closer to my lived sphere than it used to.

That year as a teenager I went from having a closet full of notes, papers, stubs, and random shit that reminded me of things, to one giant box. Over the years the giant memory box morfed to a smaller box that morfed into a small shoe box, and now no longer exists.

I think of my memory box as being symbolic for the rest of my material life, which has gotten smaller and lighter, too.

Here are some of the principles I leveraged to do it:


There is simply no substitute for making the time to clean out my closet and my life.

I usually go through my less-used cupboards and boxes a couple times a year to take inventory and get rid of things I just don’t need anymore. I put it on my calendar, have a reasonable goal, and give myself the entire day to achieve it.


Transition is messy, and when I am doing it right, paring down is messy. It means emptying out all the drawers of my dresser and putting my clothes into piles all over my bed (3 of them — keep, give/donate, trash) that sometimes take a while to address.

It means emptying boxes out onto the middle of the floor and dealing with the disaster. It means being ok with dishevelment in order to have the opportunity to see the big picture.

And it also means being dedicated and determined enough not to give up and just leave shit like that.

Trying to be tidy and doing things like taking out each dresser drawer individually and looking through the folded things inside doesn’t give me a real sense of what I have.

I have also found the existing organization, itself, when trying to think in a new way, becomes a limiting perspective. I am far less likely to be real about how many 3ft USB cables I need (hint: not 5) when I am sitting there staring at how they fit perfectly all coiled up where they are.


I am naturally organized, good at packing, and creative with storage, but if you aren’t, get help from someone who is! And even if you are, get help from someone who is!

It can be really nice to have a person to bounce things off of, joke around with, help run loads out of my sight, for emotional support if I needed it while going through things that may trigger memories, for accountability, and to celebrate with when the task was done.

When I was first starting purging, I really needed the accountability and boost of energy having help brought.


Ok, yes, it makes sense to have a selection of teas, and a few different mustards, because HELLO, MUSTARD IS AWESOME. It makes sense to have more than one glass, so I can entertain in the weird event that I have another person over. But seriously, do I need 3 colanders?

No. No, I do not need 3 colanders. Not even a little bit.


I’ve gotten rid of art supplies and musical instruments that I wish I hadn’t. There are a few letters I no longer have that I would have liked to have read again. But I learned that mistakes are ok most recognizably when I wiped the wrong hard drive and I lost all my memories and photos and original files for my art/music for a few years.

I was paralyzed with fear and remorse the moment I realized what I’d done — a feeling I remember well when first attempting to change how I viewed my stuff. I survived it, and now come to a place of ease much more quickly when similar losses happen.

Mistakes are ok. Attrition and destruction are a natural part of existing, even if they come from a mistake you’ve made. When deciding whether to let go of things I am often reminded that the world will not end if I realize a week later that I would have liked to have worn a shirt I gave away or I end up having to procure another USB mouse because I hastily got rid of mine thinking I wouldn’t need it again.

In reality, there are very, very few things that I own that would actually impact my life if I did not have them. It took testing and experience to differentiate a self destructive impulse to purge from a life affirming one. By doing this I am able to handle my mistakes gracefully.

Not only has that realization freed me of a lot of the pressure I used to feel when tasking myself to pare down, it’s also given me a more keen sense of appreciation for what I do choose to keep.


A big part of letting go of attachment to a lot of my material things has stemmed from learning that there is an inherent value in memories fading over time.

Memories are designed to fade. They are supposed to muddle and eventually go away, mostly. It’s how we grow and move on. Realizing that, at first, incited an intense feeling of loss and about a week long grief period. After that, though, it made getting rid of most of my nostalgic belongings relatively easy.

Accepting the value the statute of limitations of human memory has also significantly shortened the amount of time I needed to keep stuff around before I am ready to be without it, and helped me to reorganize my perspective around mementos.

Now, I keep things that remind me of an atmospheric time in my life more than I keep reminders of specific memories. This meant I could keep the best letter I got in middle school as opposed to 50 little things from that time, like I had done in the past.

Nowadays, I attempt to make the things I keep utilitarian in some way rather than a trinket I need shelf space for simply to exist in my space.


If a piece of paper is around to remind me of something, I put it in a spreadsheet or on my calendar instead.

If a picture of a sculpture that’s taking up 2sqft of counter space would make a good substitute, I take the picture and re-gift or sell the sculpture.


If I haven’t worn it in a while and I know someone who will love it, I give it to them.
If I haven’t worn it in a while and it’s worth money, I sell it.
If I haven’t worn it in a while and neither of the previous things are relevant, I donate it.
If I haven’t worn it in a while but I feel a deep electrical pain in my heart when I think of being without it, I keep it.
If I HAVE been wearing it, but I look at it and go “bleh”, I get rid of it.

Combined with “I only need one”, I have found this method of discipline works well.


I first wrote the above guidelines on a personal blog two years ago, and in the time since, I have again a mere fraction of the physical belongings I did then.

I now travel, with everything I own, in a van, which has a surprising amount of floppable white space inside of it.

During those two years, I’ve also developed a sensitivity to how presumptuous and privilege-focused some of the things are that I talk about on this list.

I’m not sure what paved the way for which, but I believe my approach to releasing myself from my belongings, and my deeper understandings of the unacceptable violence and oppression relied upon by the world order that told me those things were what mattered, are inextricably linked.

I have no doubt in my mind that my material shrinkage is attached to my growth into the various forms of activism that I cultivated in my life after I first realized how disenchanted and stressed I was by bombarding myself in all that bullshit ‘stuff’.

The v2.0 me with a Microsoft job and a tech husband who had just broken through the poverty ceiling never would have believed it, but as I evolve into my core values and take societal ones less and less by their superficial shiny appearances, v3.5 me is far, far happier being even lighter that I would have ever projected wanting to be.

And it appears as though I will Keep Going, perhaps one day making my guitar case fantasy real.

Moving away from my former life, and many of the unconscious, traumatizing contracts that enabled me to live it in such a materially consuming way, has taken work. It took repetition and practice for the panic impulses to dissipate when I got rid of things. It took time to put my fear of scarcity, my relationship with having spent most of my life living in poverty, and the pressures of the economic class around me, into a balanced perspective.

Through that work, I found over time, although some of my belongings have been truly precious and fueling for me, my attachment to most things was fearful, and identifying with the stuff I owned was feeding a monster that owned me.

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