It’s not what you think. I’m not homeless. Not entirely. I am just leaving on a trip in less than a month, and 3 weeks ago, my apartment lease was up. So I am currently in a seven week period of staying on people’s pull out couches, spare rooms, garages, and any other space that I can possibly sleep on, so I can avoid staying in my car. But enough about where I’m staying- this is about the unexpected after-effects of downsizing my entire life into a suitcase and a few small bags in the trunk of my car. So without further ado, these are my confessions.
You have way more stuff than you’ve ever imagined.
As soon as you start carrying everything around and moving from week to week, you begin to realize just how much stuff you actually have, and how much you are willing to sacrifice. After all, the idea of heaving an extremely large suitcase up to your friend's two-story apartment, whilst being out of shape, is less than ideal. I was so proud of myself when I moved out of my apartment because I had sold/donated approximately 85 percent of the things I owned, and put most of the remaining items in storage. I thought, “Wow, look at me, consolidating, traveling, and living out of my car. I’m so grownup! I’m such a minimalist now!” But boy, was I wrong. I still had so much packed into my car that I could barely back up safely out of a parking spot (probably not a good idea, but we all have our own opinions). Having been living out of my suitcase for three weeks now, I’ve donated even more of the things I thought I constantly needed, and even used exorbitant amounts of lotion so that I could justifiably throw it away without feeling like I was wasting (why did I think I needed 3 bottles of lotion?).
You don’t use half the clothes that you pack.
This has been especially true for me, because I work my day job 6 days a week. In all truth, that means that I wear jeans, a black shirt and non-slip shoes for 75 percent of my existence. The rest of the time, unless I’m going out, (which, let’s be real, I’m semi-antisocial, so really isn’t that often) I’m wearing the glorious invention called “yoga pants.” Thank you, comfortable clothes gods. In short, I have several outfits in my suitcase that have not even been touched in the last three weeks. Totally unnecessary.
Living out of a suitcase is 100 percent possible.
I wasn’t too sure about this. I’m not going to say that I’m a hoarder (I’m not), but I own a lot of stuff. I’m used to variety. I’m one of those girls who doesn’t want to be caught wearing the same outfit twice. Needless to say, when I packed up that final bag, I thought, “Better brace myself for some tough times ahead.” But instead, I realized something pretty great. The things that I own don’t define me. I don’t need a bunch of items to make me who I am and to get people to like me. Consolidating the things I own down to a much smaller portion than I’ve ever had as an adult has helped me understand that there is freedom in just being me, rather than relying on things to make myself attractive to others. My friends like me whether or not I bring a bunch of random items with me to contribute to their collections. And if I can part with so many of the things I own- things that I’ve been conditioned to believe define me- then I get the opportunity to redefine myself in a way that I want, instead of what society wants of me.
In conclusion:
Getting rid of a bunch of your stuff? Scary, but I’ve learned that everything is replaceable.
Living out of a suitcase? Stressful, but more freeing than you could imagine.
Staying in friends’ houses for weeks? The biggest blessing and adventure that I have been bestowed with.
Preparing to go on the adventure of a lifetime surrounded by loved ones? Priceless.
