I Broke Up With My Things

It’s become nothing out of the ordinary for me to move every year. Sometimes to find a more economical living situation or simply out of boredom. There was a moment while I packed up my belongings to move this week when realized I don’t even know what things I own anymore.

Many of the things I do own are reminders of experiences had. Gifts from friends, a photo album from college, an $8 bull horn from Amazon that has brought endless aggravation to neighbors and countless laughter for friends. I’ve watched roommates move in and out of my place and am always surprised by the amount of things they would cart in and out. Moving trucks the size of semis will soon be the norm for our consumer driven society.

When are we taught that the way to experience life is to purchase things? Do our parents and mentors realize that’s what they are teaching us to do?

I realized how little is necessary as I packed everything I needed in the trunk of a Hyundai Accent for a 30 day cross country trip. Living as a minimalist in material possessions allows me to live life as a maximalist because I have the ability to fund experiences. Ones that give me stories to share with you here.

After moving from place to place it caused me to rid myself of things that weren’t useful. It fueled further travel where weekend trips turned to week long trips and from weeks to months. The things I had a long distance relationship with back at home were lonely and we didn’t talk much anymore.

I broke up with my things because they spent more time in a cardboard box than out on a shelf soaking in rays of glorious sunshine. We broke up because I didn’t even know who they were anymore. The great times we had were distant memories but it’s not a sad story. We are okay being “just friends”. Things were once a big part of my life. They are responsible for the reason I have moved on. The reason I know that I deserve better now.

I’m single from things now with my arms wide open to experiences, and I’m never turning back.