Look, I love a flat lay just as much as the next millennial, but I stopped posting them at the start of this year. I took this one a few weeks ago, but I decided once again, not to post it. When I was younger, I built my self-esteem on being able to pretty much have anything that was cool at the time. I lived with my mum and we were broke, but we got by. My Dad had his own successful photography business, and I spent every second weekend with him, where he would make up for missing out in his childhood by buying me virtually anything I wanted.
I was bullied mercilessly in primary school and intermediate, but it's pretty surprising how quickly kids want to be your friend when you've got whatever toy is the latest fad. When some guys threw one of my Chuck Taylor's in the toilet to watch me fish it out, I looked at it, shrugged it off, and came to school the next day with a brand new pair in the latest colour. It was the only weapon I felt like I had, and it shaped me in ways that still have a hold of me today. Like many others, I'm aware that I'm being targeted by marketing virtually everywhere I go. It's part of the digital age, I spend more than 7 hours of my day looking at a screen in some form, but it's more than that. There's something about my worth that I still place on possessing material goods that are deemed by society as 'cool', when I see something new that I want, it consumes me.
As a result, I have a room full of the latest running clothes, shoes, wireless headphones and as of yesterday, the Nike+ Apple Watch, all because that's what I think it means to be 'cool' right now. There's a separate room where all my 'cool student' stuff lives, my gold Macbook, my fineliners, cat shaped sticky notes and highlighters. When I look at it all, I feel kind of overwhelmed by disappointment, because I know that's not really me. I value friendships, non-paper cats, family and having fun. Somehow, I still can't break this attachment to all the stuff I have, and I certainly haven't managed to stop buying more. I have read a tonne of books on the subject and I've spoken to a psychotherapist about it, but something still isn't clicking. Last week I was pretty convinced I was ready to let go, I unpacked my drawer of running tights and found three pairs I was willing to get rid of. You might be cheering for me right now, but it's premature, simmer down. That massive cull left me with a mere 20 remaining pairs. Logically, I know that's outrageous, but the declutter gurus don't cover what happens if you like all the tights and you wear them all. I believe it's a grey area in the literature.
So then I made the decision that if I couldn't get rid of any, I certainly wouldn't buy any more. This was until I got a message from Mac saying she saw a pair at the outlet store in Aus I would love. I didn't even wait for more info, I just said "I've transferred you". So here I am, writing this blog about wanting to live a life with less stuff with a brand new pair of running tights on. The irony is not lost on me. I have had a lapse in progress on my goal towards minimalism, but I'm not giving up. This post is basically me saying to everyone (and myself) that my stuff is not me, it does not control me and it does not define me. So when you see me posting a picture of my shoes, or god forbid my Apple Watch, just know that I'm just trying to make myself feel cool. I don't want anyone to feel like they aren't cool because they don't have what I have, because real talk, that shit doesn't make anyone really happy.
So, I finish this with an invitation to keep me accountable if you see me actin' up. That isn't me and I don't want to portray that image.