This is a bit of a predicament, and one I don’t think I’ve ever run into in the nearly 14 years I’ve been on WordPress. Granted, I don’t think they even had daily prompts when I first started, but you get the idea.
The issue is that I responded to a very similar, though not identical, prompt about minimalism just about three weeks ago. I’m going to embed that post here for those of you who are interested…
Traveling Light in the Classroom
In that post, I reflected on the fact that as a voracious collector of things, I’ve never really practiced minimalism—with the exception of my classroom. For the last few years, I’ve traveled pretty light as a teacher in an alternative high school.
It’s interesting to bring that up right now, as the school year is winding down. My students have exactly one week left after today, and I’ve already started the process of packing things up. I did this last year, too, right after Memorial Day weekend, because I knew for certain we were all switching rooms. This year, I’m doing it again.
The teacher I share the room with asked me the other day if I was going to take down my posters and my two flags before the year officially ended. I told her yes. If I switch rooms, if they close our building, or if I get reassigned elsewhere in the district, I want to be able to just come in, grab my boxes, and be done.
I crave stability in my workspace. When I first started teaching, I always envisioned staying in one building for a decade or more. Instead, traveling light has become a defense mechanism. Packing up early like this absolutely reinforces a heavy sense of instability—a reminder that I haven’t felt truly stable in this profession for a while. Yet, even as a workplace minimalist, I still care about the space; I probably worry more about decorating and making the room feel right than most other male teachers do. If I ruled the rules, I’d have a couch or a recliner in there—though the kids would absolutely take advantage of it.
Forced Minimalism vs. Chosen Anchors
I also mentioned in that previous post that minimalism reminds me too much of my divorce from X1, and the end of my relationship with X2. Those were cases of forced minimalism. It wasn’t my choice to start back from zero. Whether it’s voluntary or involuntary, I’m kind of sick of starting over.
But there is a difference between the baggage that weighs you down and the things that ground you.
To be honest, I still have boxes of childhood toys that, at this point, feel more like an albatross around my neck than a collection. I’d love to unload them. But through the divorces and the breakups, I fought to hang onto my books, my CDs, my movies, and my baseball memorabilia—the knickknacks and memories from stadium-chasing over the years. I refuse to get rid of those.
And then there’s the Christmas tree.
I didn’t have it when I was married, and I don’t think I got it until after X2 and I split. But of all the things I own, when I think of my family—of me, Kid 1, and Kid 2—that tree and those ornaments are the things that pull the three of us together more than anything else. I might replace the physical tree eventually, but those boxes of holiday memories are non-negotiable.
The Ultimate Contradiction
The truth is, I feel completely contradictory when it comes to the whole concept of minimalism. I crave stability in my life—a feeling I haven’t truly had in a very long time. And yet, at the same time, I absolutely refuse to be tied down or burdened by mere material possessions.
Maybe the trick isn’t about owning less; it’s about making sure the things you do keep actually hold you up instead of holding you back. I want to streamline the things that complicate my life. But when it comes to the things that prove who I am, where I’ve been, and who loves me?
I’m keeping every single bit of it.
Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Whether I’m closing in on 1,000 consecutive days of blogging or reflecting on the decade of work that brought me here, the mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.
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The article “The Baggage We Choose: Finding Stability in a Packed-Up Life” first appeared on Rebuilding Rob
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