This past week, I’ve effectively made no progress toward downsizing my way into cheaper housing. I bought groceries and brought a bag of donations to my trunk, but that’s it. Buying those groceries set my spine health back almost more than it was worth, since it hurt my spine for a few days after that. My neighbors have been louder over the past few months than ever, but, I still have so much to downsize.
I thought about opening this essay by asking “what if I did have my health back?”
“What would I do first?” I would buy enough groceries to make sure I didn’t end up feeling terrible each day not having enough decent food, or enough energy to make anything decent, and then I would get to work. Even though my tailbone and lower back hurts when I sit down, it hurts most when I stand, especially if I’m moving around, so it’s nearly impossible for me to do much of anything without flaring up my body.
What would happen if I could go out and about, though?
I’d take a few trips to thrift stores to drop off donations, then go to as many places as I could to sell CDs, videogames, and other items to free up space. I’m not so worried about breaking a profit anymore as clearing out space. My health has declined over the past 6 months. I don’t have the energy or ability to do much with much anymore. I can’t navigate through a large CD collection anymore. I don’t have the physicality to organize my DVD collection for display purposes. Playing videogames on consoles requires more physicality than I have ability and I don’t believe I will ever get to a place where I could regain that physicality.
That might seem depressing, but for me, it’s stating facts realistically.
This includes my collections of books as well. I haven’t been reading the past few days, mainly because I’ve been in a bit of a depressive rut. The book I’m reading is depressing for someone like me because I don’t know if I can ever work again. How can I work if I can barely get out of bed without hurting? I can’t reliably get groceries, sell collectibles, donate non-collectibles, or even get my mail. Every doctor I’ve talked to has legally stated a degree of empathy but outside of that has not provided any actionable assistance toward getting me on a road to recovery.
It’s sad to consider, but I don’t know what else to say.
I wanted these essays to be the honest exploration of someone that had become addicted to the idea of having cool things around that ended up not being cool much at all. Sure, it’s nice having objects that mean something to you, and it’s nice having useful items, but when reading books makes you depressed because it makes you realize that many of the sorts of physical jobs they talk about are impossible to do, then it makes the whole thing not worthwhile, even if I only have less than, say, 2 hours left to read. I don’t have the physicality to enjoy many of the videos or videogames I own, so why own them?
Sentimentality doesn’t mean much when it comes to mass-market items.
Ideally, it would be nice to sell the videogames to people I know in the livestreaming community that could enjoy them more than bulk unload them to videogame stores, for example, but I don’t even have the energy to do much at all, so how can I do all of that? I don’t have the physicality to bathe myself regularly, change my clothes daily, so how can I really go about the process of looking through my many boxes of things to decide what to donate and what to sell or keep?
I could use this time to mentally detach, but I already have.
I could probably fit all of my most prized possessions into a car, if I had assistance, since almost everything else is replacable. Even childhood versions of objects are nearly identical to ones I can repurchase again. The only difference would be the irreplaceable objects, and even those can be duplicated or photographed. If next week feels like it will be the same, I won’t write the same sort of essay, since these are all the same topics I write about often when I address this topic of downsizing, so what else would I say if I don’t actually have any action?
Would I talk about the regret of having bought so much stuff?
I did enjoy the journies I had when I bought the things I did, I never bought outside of my price ranges, and when I write about it as I do – it’s mainly from the perspective of someone that, yeah, does have some regret about buying so much stuff, but realizes why. I bought what I bought because I thought those objects would make me happy. They didn’t make me happy. I have the objects now and I’m not happier. What made me happy was going out and exploring. The financial interactions were secondary, even if I thought that owning the object would bring me more happiness.
Being able – physically, mentally, financially – to go out to places was the happiness.
The objects themselves are neat and some of them can even bring happiness from their use or my consideration about them, but most aren’t much better than photographs of having encountered them. The physical objects of CDs, videogames, and more are all replicable online – the only difference between those and their digital counterparts is having the sort of physical husk around them. After having temporary paralysis after my spine surgery, I learned that the husk is not as important as what’s within. We want the element of what’s within to represent the whole of the object, but that’s not often true.
The object doesn’t define the intangible elements within anyone or any object.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: I guess writing about downsizing means writing about my perspective of reality.|
|Related: Other Downsizing Zeal essays.|
|Written On: 2021 June 13 [10:10pm to 10:36pm]|
|Last Edited: 2021 June 13 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|