Let me start by saying this: I didn’t lose my stuff in a fire. I threw it out. On purpose. While sober.
I stood in my apartment one day, surrounded by objects I didn’t use, didn’t like, and in some cases, couldn’t even identify. So I channeled my inner Marie Kondo, my outer emotional damage, and just… started pitching.
Spoiler alert: I don’t miss any of it. (Okay, maybe the popcorn maker. But it was loud and shaped like a spaceship.)
Here’s what I learned when I chucked 80% of my worldly possessions into donation bins and dumpsters with the righteous fury of a monk in IKEA.
1. Most of What I Owned Was Emotional Lint
I kept things not because I needed them, but because I used to need them. Or they reminded me of something. Or they had guilt attached—“Aunt Barbara gave me that candle in 2008 and I’ve never lit it because it smells like wet laundry and despair.”
Turns out: nostalgia is not a storage strategy.
2. Letting Go is Addictive
At first, it was hard. I hesitated over an old scarf like it was a sacred family relic. But after the first few bags left my home, I felt a rush. Power. Clarity. A little bit of mania.
Soon I was side-eying my lamp like, “You better spark joy or you’re next.”
3. I Could Breathe Again (Literally and Metaphorically)
Less stuff meant fewer things to trip over, fewer things to clean, and fewer things silently judging me. The space felt bigger. Lighter. Like my apartment got therapy.
4. Decision Fatigue Left the Building
With fewer things, I didn’t have to think about what to wear, which mug to use, or where I’d hidden that weird birthday card from 2014. Simplicity gave me back mental energy I didn’t even know I was wasting.
5. My Space Became My Ally
Before, my home felt like a storage unit with a bed in it. Now, it feels like a quiet friend. A clean slate. It supports me instead of draining me.
Also, I no longer fear surprise guests. I welcome them. (Unless they bring gifts. Then we fight.)
6. I Found Out What Actually Matters
Spoiler: It’s not your box of tangled chargers or those “aspirational” jeans that whisper lies from the back of your closet.
What I kept:
- A few well-fitting clothes
- One set of dishes
- My journal
- My laptop
- A plant named Carl
Carl sparks joy. Carl stays.
7. Buying Things Feels Different Now
When I pick something up in a store, I don’t ask “Do I want this?” I ask “Do I want to own this?” The bar is higher now. It’s basically pole-vaulting.
Final Thought
Throwing away 80% of my stuff didn’t just declutter my apartment—it decluttered my mind. I don’t miss the objects. I miss the version of me that thought I needed them to be complete.
But don’t worry—I’m still incomplete. Just more efficiently so.
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