Key West really does something to you.

Or, rather, insert your favorite vacation destination. You know, the one you can’t quit, the one you keep coming back to, the one you empty your savings account just for a few days out of a year to be there.

Yeah, that one.

That place. That place that we all have. That place really does something to you.

My place, as I stated before, is Key West, Florida. I’ve been tons of times, and last month, my hubs, LT and I went to soak up the fun of the island as usual. But for whatever reason, this time around our vacation was different during, and most certainly after.

I was sad to leave, as always. Nothing new here. But when I returned home, I was absolutely suffocated. Suffocated by things. My sofa, my dining room table, my plates, my Christmas wreaths, my cushions. My house. Everything material that I had been hauling around for years had suddenly transformed into this concrete wall around me—too tall to climb over, no cracks to break out through. Dramatic.

Now you have to remember, I’m a railroad wife and an avid leisure traveler on top of that. LT and I are always on the move, whether that means relocation for the RR, or just popping out for a weekend to check out a cool city. Because of this lifestyle, we are big on frequently purging material possessions. All that to say….

This feeling of entrapment upon returning from our beloved Florida island was odd and unexpected to say the least. And even if you own less material possessions than the average person, it’s also jolting when you realize that doesn’t mean you still don’t own a lot of stuff.

I’ve seen the Tiny Houses show plenty of times. I’ve watched the minimalist lifestyle documentaries before. The revelation that life without stuff weighing you down is the core concept, but it definitely does not have a universal, one-meaning translation. Minimalism and commitment-free living have a different definition for everyone. Is this my anti-stuff revelation? Well, I think I’d rather call it my “finally fed up” moment. Fed up with the upkeep, fed up with the unused space, fed up with the money pit that every house—new or old—will be, and fed up mostly with the insurmountable fact that I’m not planting the garden out back or finishing the paint on the accent wall in that bedroom, not because I don’t have time necessarily—but because I just don’t want to. The love and nurture that should go into any home (whether that’s a mansion or an RV or a studio apartment) has escaped me. And this kills me because there is nothing I love more than to make a house into a home. Too much neglect on my part because, well, it’s just not the lifestyle my husband and I want to be living right now. Yet still, we’ve been choosing to stay here.

The American Dream seems to have a pretty standard map when it comes to lifestyle and lodging. And it’s a beautiful blueprint. One that so many people live, and thrive while doing so. But much like the definition of purging and minimalistic living, it’s actually not as universal as we grow up to believe. The A to B to C and so on plan is great in so many ways—it delivers focus, strive for greatness, things to look forward to, expectations, an embrace of reality, awesome happiness, and much, much more. But as trite as it sounds, it really is not for everyone.

I’m 32 years old and I feel very fortunate so far in what I’ve accomplished in my life. One of those milestones being that I’ve been a successful homeowner twice. And that’s where you’re supposed to end up, right? Once a homeowner, you stay in that lane. It would be ludicrous to go backwards.

Do you see now where I’m going with all this?

Yep. That’s right. Backwards.

My personal American Dream has shifted, and it’s one that is simply this: live my life for what it looks like now. Instead of the copious amounts of square footage bubbled into 5, 6, 7 rooms, right now we dream of the studio loft. Instead of the fenced in backyard, right now we dream of the back veranda patio, laden with string fairy lights and overflowing banana trees. Instead of putting the work into a new AC unit or fixing a leak, right now we dream of kicking back for a moment and leaving that responsibility to someone else.

It’s exciting and it’s terrifying, but you know what? It’s time. We are just at the start of this journey, and I have to say—I let out a little breath of relief every time a piece of material stuff goes out my front door, never to return. I daydream about not coming home from a week-long work trip or vacation to a musty house to clean that I truly only use 1/10 the space of.

Here are some brutal truths of what I’ve learned so far, just being less than a month into all the madness:

The wretched headache that is selling. I forgot just how tug-and-go selling your stuff is with people. It’s frustrating, time-consuming, and at times can be insulting when someone wants to lowball you on price, even when you’re not feeling personally attached to the item for sale. On that same token though, as not-fun of a process as selling all your stuff is, there is a huge rush of satisfaction and contentment when an excited buyer takes that weight off your hands and gives it a good home. It feels really incredible not just to purge, but also to see that something that once fit so perfect in your life, will now be that perfect fit for someone else.
Getting rid of all your things can truly be a mourning type of experience. And it’s so unpredictable. You’ll easily let go of a $2000 table set, but you get misty eyed and can’t seem to loosen your grasp on that faded out t-shirt from college. It’s weird, and it’s dumb sometimes, but it’s inevitable to happen. Accepting that it’s okay to let yourself grieve an end table is a necessary step in the whole process. Which is to also say…
…the relationship with things. An insane realization now hits that for so long, I have had this relationship with my things. A true relationship that I have been exhaustingly and constantly maintaining. When I move, I have to ensure there is room for whatever said thing I have, and if there is no room, I can’t move into the space, even if I love it and it’s perfect otherwise. Constant dusting if the said thing is by a window. Frequent increase of more cleaning and upkeep for certain materials like wood and stone and glass. Frequent increase of cleaning and upkeep in general for the more material possessions I am maintaining a relationship with. (Yes, of course I know that any and everything we have has to be taken care of and treated with respect, and I’m definitely not whining about or overlooking that. I’m just saying that it is completely okay to admit to yourself that you don’t want that extra responsibility in your life right now.
Saved by the sticky notes! My best friend had an incredible idea to help with the aforementioned #2 & 3. Sticky note the hell out of all my things, with phrases written on those notes such as “You don’t have to move me!”, “You don’t have to figure out where to put me!”, “When was the last time you used me?”, “What do you need a cheetah ottoman for, anyway?”, “Tab, you do not have room for 2,000 wine corks.”
90% of people will not understand this sell everything and downsize decision. They’ll support you, but be completely baffled, and at some points, a small part of you will take their disbelief and terror for you to heart. You’ll question if you’re being impulsive, rash, and if this is the stupidest idea ever. But just breathe. This is not the stupidest idea ever, it’s the best—for you. And that’s what matters the most.

 

So far, I’ve had the most luck with selling on Facebook Marketplace for furniture and bigger items. We currently live in a really small town (I think the population is under 25,000), so other popular selling sites like Craigslist, LetGo, VarageSale, and OfferUp just don’t seem to be working here at all. For clothes/wardrobe anything, Poshmark and Mercari have been pretty 50/50 for sales.

 

Are y’all ready to ride along with me on this crazy adventure? Here goes nothing! Have you had experience with selling everything and dramatically downsizing to change your entire life? Post your tips and tricks of the trade, or personal experience in the comments below!

 

Cheers! TRF