I’ve had an epiphany, and it’s making me uncomfortable.
At 53, I’ve reached “peak stuff“.
And my backup plan for downsizing – donating it to charities – has hit a hurdle. They don’t want most of my “stuff”.
It all started with our holiday viewing of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on Netflix. The show was simultaneously inspiring and terrifying in equal parts. In one episode, the family who were decluttering sent 150 giant bags of trash to landfill. That’s just the stuff they weren’t able to donate – there was a mountain of bags going to charity as well.
Anyway, Pete and I were inspired to sort through our old clothing. We culled ruthlessly, ending up with six bags of good quality (albeit very dated) items to donate. And then we hit stage two, which was trying to find a place that would take them. The CEO of the Salvation Army might well berate folks for not donating, but he’s obviously never been knocked back when trying to donate to their North Parramatta store like my friend was last week.
Other friends fronted up to Vinnies in Leichhardt with lightly worn, undamaged clothing that their children had grown out of, only to be told that they weren’t accepting donations at that time. The charities are fussy because they have to be – they’re spending millions of dollars each year managing waste. We might feel good believing that our donated items are going to a worthy cause, but there’s a strong chance that much of it will be deemed unsaleable and sent to landfill. According to this article, more than 30 per cent of charity donations end up there.
I was already aware of this problem as a result of the rescued socks. I finally found a refugee support group who are incredibly grateful to have them, but none of the big name charities would touch them, even after I’d sanitised them to within an inch of their lives. Even those working with the homeless didn’t want them. The Exodus Foundation reluctantly took some last year and said they’d call me back if they wanted any more (they never did). Vinnies’ night patrol were happy to take the beanies we made, but they received a regular supply of new socks, so weren’t able to take any from us. It was a real eye-opener about how affluent and privileged a society we’re fortunate enough to live in.
Which leads me back to my epiphany. I have two difficult tasks ahead of me now.
Firstly, I have to be accountable for my stuff. I’ve never really done that before, but our waste reduction efforts this past year have focused my attention on this point. What happens to the things I own when they’re no longer needed? Throwing an item into landfill has to be an absolute last resort and only done after every effort has been made to extend its life.
An example – the base of our car phone holder broke recently, but the cradle was still fine, so we attached it to a shelf in the kitchen. Nothing lasts forever, but this will at least save part of it from the bin for a few more years…
More importantly though, is that I have to start buying things with a different mindset.
Whatever comes into the house needs to have an exit plan.
Will it have a long life? Can it be repaired? Donated? Repurposed? Recycled? Will it biodegrade, or live in landfill for eternity? What about the packaging it comes in? Asking these questions inevitably lead to…do I really need it? Do I really want it?
I have to work much harder at this. It’s far easier to type than to put into practice, because like most extroverts, I like new things. I am, however, trying my best to improve. Last year I assuaged my guilt by shopping mostly at op shops and places like Reverse Garbage, telling myself that I was already further down the landfill ladder by buying items that had already been used and/or discarded. But what the Kondo show made me realise was that even this stuff needs an exit plan. And I have to consider that before I think about bringing something new into the house.
Secondly, I have to figure out what to do with the things I already have. There is a room full of fabric and craft supplies that needs rationalising, and I want to do it in a careful, considered way. On the show, folks worked through their houses in a whirlwind fashion – the premise being that you start tidying and don’t stop until you’re finished – but I don’t want to simply throw out items without giving them a great deal of thought first.
I have a responsibility to do more than simply hold an item in my hands to see if it “sparks joy”. I have yards of boring green polarfleece (leftover from school jumpers) that I can turn into beanies for the homeless over the next few years rather than discarding for the sake of clear floor space. And having to buy something to replace a perfectly good item that I threw/gave away previously drives me bonkers.
I have to make a greater effort to repair and extend the life of items. In her book (I haven’t read it, but I’m quoting from this article), Kondo writes that “when a button falls off, it’s a sign that the particular shirt or blouse has … reached the end of its life.” I find that incredibly disturbing. Our goal is to repair for as long as possible – made easier if we choose well in the first place. Although I must admit that my sock repairs are starting to drive my poor mother to despair…
So those are my new goals for 2019. Tidying up in a careful, considered way. Minimising new purchases as much as possible. Buying only when necessary, with a view to longevity, and with an exit plan. It won’t be easy, but I’m going to try. ♥
