This year, I finally got everything I wanted underneath our petite living room Christmas tree- not a single gift addressed to me.  Somehow a gift for every occasion has become such a culturally ingrained tradition it is almost reflexive.  I find that people often don’t understand why my preferred present is a hug or a chat.  

Three years ago, I woke up nearly every day feeling like my sense of joy was being crushed breathless. The weight of trying and failing to maintain so many household things on top of what we had been going through had turned into a Dementor of sorts, preying on my spirit, my happiness, and my peace of mind.

Around that time, I was reading through stories on my yahoo news feed, when I ran across a piece for Yahoo Real Estate written by Megan Craig.  The couple featured in the article had embraced minimalism and fixed up a previously owned yurt in Montana. As I looked through the pictures and read through their story, I found myself thinking: Oh. My. Envy.  Part of me desperately hungers to pitch almost everything I own and move to a yurt in Montana.

I felt like Marley of Christmas Carol fame, bound down by a heavy weight of inescapable things- except it wasn’t my deeds that left me feeling shackled, but rather long chains of possessions.  Items that had begun to stress me out by their mere presence. I couldn’t even begin to use them all, because there was no time.  I couldn’t even begin to take care of them all, again, because there was no time.  I’m starting to feel like some of the lyrics to The Band Perry’s song “Nostalgia,” that a lot of this was about the “time, time, time, time” our stuff was draining from a schedule that was constantly in danger of bleeding to death as it was.  Except, it was “time” I wanted back, just a little bit that could be unscripted by things demanding attention or maintenance.

Craig’s article referenced a TEDx talk by The Minimalists from 2014, and I watched it. I cried. I wanted to find out what it felt like to deal only with “Everything That Remains.” I read several books- Francine Jay and Meg Wolfe both had books I enjoyed and found useful.  I perused websites, including The Minimalists’ blog. Armed with all of this information, I tried (and failed) to convince Andy and Hannah that adopting minimalism would be an amazing thing for our family (Tony dislikes most everything we get at first, so I’m pretty sure minimalism is his natural state of being).  I love and value them, and respect their rights as individuals and members of our family to keep whatever they find meaningful.

When you enter our home, you can’t really tell anyone who aspires to minimalism lives here. We still own and buy a ton of therapy stuff for Tony because right now that’s what he needs whether he wants those things or not.  Andy and Hannah get to keep whatever they want. Although recently, my honey has started clearing out some of his own stuff.  And, if you look closely, you might realize that I have donated box after box of my own personal possessions.  With every item that has gone to our local Goodwill I have drawn a breath of freedom from the stresses and demands that all of those unused things were placing on me in upkeep and unfulfilled expectations.

I have found that more stuff just equals more to maintain and less time to spend focusing on the people and loved ones that matter most in my life.  And I still have far more “things” than I want laying around.  Bit by bit, I’m digging myself out from under everything I can and trying to liberate hope for time in the future, because my deepest joy hasn’t been found in any of the things I owned.  So, the only gifts I truly want these days can’t be wrapped in a box, and should never be left under a tree.  And the good news is, they only cost time to give.