The thing about minimalism as it’s so often shown to us, is that it expects a high level of privilege.

I too, would like to be able to backpack my way across Europe with nothing but a backpack, but there are many things that stand in the way of that, least of all my inability to carry heavy bags for long without getting pressure hives.

I too, would like to be able to own only three dresses for summer, maybe a cardigan and heavier coat for when it gets cold.

But that, also, requires a level of “abled” I do not possess.

As I’m also the person who had to break down and buy more clothing when we landed in Denmark, having begun in Spain… “minimalism” often also begs a heftier wallet than I possess.

The person saying “I do not own a vacuum cleaner; I simply wash the floor by hand and call it dynamic meditation”…nothing wrong with that, except if I wash the floor by hand, I will spend the next three days lying in bed contemplating my sins against myself, in another form of communing with Spirit.

So why do I keep coming back to this concept, instead of tossing it by the wayside as I would, say, the idea of being vegan?

(Nothing wrong with, and many things good and right about being vegan; it simply very isn’t for my particular meatsack.)

I think Lucy Moon put it extremely well in this video where she talks about why she no longer adheres to the tenets of having a capsule wardrobe.

She says that she thinks she was sold a dream.

And that’s also the thing about minimalism, where so much of it was selling us a dream, but we weren’t really aware of everything behind the structure and deeper meaning of that dream.

Also in which perhaps we thought we were drawn to one aspect of that sold illusion, but we were in reality in search of another.

A while ago, I asked: “Do you really like everything cottagecore, living off-grid off the land, or are you just terrified capitalism is really going to come after you and you’ll die starving and homeless?”

With the minimalism sold us, I’d like to ask: “Do I really understand what I should be paring back, or am I simply hoping that if I just get rid of enough items, I will magically become physically able to tolerate more discomfort than I currently can?”

And: “Do I really like the aesthetics of a minimalist space, or is it that I can’t keep up with my household chores as it is and I’m imagining if I just got rid of everything, then chores will be doable?”

And: “Is this fixation on minimalism my attempt to pretend I have control over my life when I have zero control over what my body does and doesn’t do?”

And: “Am I really just thinking, deep down, that if I trim my life down to the very barest necessities, bread and water and a mat on the ground, then perhaps I can start to regain the agency I had as an abled person?”

That last bit is because of all the people saying minimalism = frugality = wealth building.

Which, by the way, should be the first delusion to go.

The Latte Factor, god rest its terrible guilt-tripping soul, is a fallacy when you’re not making any meaningful amount of money.

It’s the same way with what Lucy Moon was saying, how the capsule wardrobe as a concept was born from people who used to over consume clothing, who had mountains of clothing they could whittle down to what really suited them and what they loved and made them look and feel good.

Minimalism as a financial gambit is simply another way to guilt poor people.

It’s the Vime’s theory of boots, y’see.

Back to the capsule wardrobe thing. One of the basic ideas is you don’t keep duplicates or similar items and you get rid of things that don’t fit.

Which, if you’re poor — why are you getting rid of perfectly good clothing that you will need to eventually replace?

As for things fitting — it does make sense to get rid of clothing that is far too small or is so tight it’s uncomfortable and you don’t see yourself ever slimming into, but there’s still a need for “just stuff to lounge around and be comfortable in, for days at home”.

And when you lack spoons but you also need fresh clothing daily, then having too few articles of clothing because you chucked most of them for “simplicity”’s sake is quite ridiculous.

In my case, I do have a slight problem when I can never bring myself to throw away my threadbare lounge clothing, because it takes years for things to get that worn so they don’t chafe. The alternative, which is unaffordable, is to buy loungewear in pure silk.

I spent a few weeks a while ago where almost everything except silk was making my hives worse, so I was about to throw away some clothing that had become holey in their threadbareness, and now I’ll have to work myself up to it again.

All that, and I’ll bet you’re asking where I’m going with this. Why I can’t manage to answer the question.

Okay.

So the clarified goal (as always) is to become more aware of what I do and don’t do on a daily basis.
(Why I was trying to do the tracking of cookware I actually used, but that’s a semi-failed experiment.)

The goal is to sort out what I don’t want to live without and what I can live without.

It’s to figure out if there are reasonable alternatives to what I want so I can possibly streamline things.

In the case of disability, chronic illness, and associated poverty — sometimes the whittling down first has to do with people and situations rather than items — and then maybe you get rid of things that have to do with the people and situations.

So, in a couple of areas:

Clothing:
I’m mostly keeping what I have, despite there being quite a bit of it.

I keep wanting to get rid of the heavy winter clothing because it’s useless moth food here in Taiwan, but I still have hopes of moving back to Boston one day and I don’t want to spend the money to replace all my cashmere and long wool coats. There’s space (just barely) for it in my parents’ flat, so I’m just going to hold onto it for now like I’m trying to hold onto a dream.

I already got rid of the “sexier” stuff. The body-clinging cowled tops; the tight dresses; the strappy tops. It’s not just that Taiwan has this weird purity thing with women’s tits and asses where you shouldn’t be able to see curves or it’s pearl-clutching time. It’s also that I no longer want to put up with that kind of attention. Eight years into chronic illness and disability and I just have no patience with even wanting to be seen as pretty.

It sucks that people, especially femme-presenting people, get abused for not being pretty. But I hate the lies that get offered when I pass as healthy and make an effort to be conventionally aesthetically pleasing.

So it’s now “oh, got offered a seat again on the bus because someone thinks I’m pregnant” clothing all the way because that’s what’s comfortable in all the aspects. Linen breathes better in Taiwan humidity, dries faster if I get caught in rain or if it’s so hot I’m dripping, and the looseness means less likely to get pressure hives.

I’m keeping the “fancier” clothing. The nicer linen sundresses that one could wear to a semi-casual wedding, for example. Those would be incredibly expensive to replace if I had to go to another formal-ish event and they don’t take up that much space. Eventually it’d be nice if I could donate them, though, just to close the door on that kind of happening.

Cookware:

I am probably going to get rid of the multiple-people type of bakeware if/when I move out. Freezer space is at a premium and I will never want to eat 12 of the same kind of muffin in a row. They will absolutely grow mold in Taiwan humidity and heat before I can finish the lot, so that’s just added stress.

I also won’t need the 13×9 baking pans once I’m no longer cooking for four people. Nor the 5 liter casserole pan.

After decades of owning an electric hot water dispenser, I’m also going to skip buying one for myself in order to save on electricity bills. I’m also almost definitely skipping the electric rice cooker because I don’t eat enough rice to justify the cost and the counter space. I might, however, buy a Datung electric pot because I can make rice in that. I also might not, because counter space.

As much as I’d miss my 5 quart cast iron deep skillet — I will probably try to find a good home for that as well. It’s tremendous for making fried rice for four people, but that’s about all I use it for.

It’s an odd feeling decision, because I’ve always enjoyed feeding people. One of my favorite things is testing out recipes and then inviting people over to show off my results. But the fact is, I simply don’t have that kind of energy or stamina any longer.

In that vein, I will also need to really pay attention to what I buy in terms of ingredients, particularly the easily spoiled ones like leafy vegetables.

Another example: I used to have both almonds and walnuts in my baking essentials, but I don’t have either the energy or the appetite to consume both in a timely fashion if I buy from Costco and they’re prohibitively expensive elsewhere.

Storage containers:

My family hates how I collect glass jars so this is just going into its own category. I need to first figure out (see above) what food ingredients I’m going to have and store on a regular basis, then pare down to what’s reasonable. I should only have 5 containers of stock at any given time, for example. I shouldn’t have more because it will absolutely just clutter up the fridge and will taste “not fresh” by the time I get around to them.

Same goes for leftover containers.

Disability theoretically loves the ideas of leftovers, but my particular brand of inherited orthorexia and ADHD often means that leftovers either get forgotten or ignored.

Shoes:

I have a pair of slippers, a couple pairs of sandals, and I really need some wet-weather shoes, but that’s about it.

I’m no longer allowed to buy anything with heels, even half an inch ones or wedges because my body won’t hear of it anymore and I just need to face that.

So that’s my attempt to clarify things for myself.

I no longer want to pretend to be up for “partying” and things like conventions and even weddings because that’s outside of my capabilities.

I go to Costco and another store with my mother, sitting in a car to and from, and I spend the next three days recovering. Conventions are just “yeah no, my body will murder me” and weddings are “omg, if I have to remain sitting for one more minute I’ll cry”.

I am no longer going to buy things like weights or exercise tracking type stuff the same way I’ve stopped using things that track “streaks”. I will exercise when I feel up to it and stop when I’m tired or when things hurt and not worry how far away from 10k steps I am.

I will write when I can because I love it and not because I am feel stressed about not making the 40 credits required to get social security. And particularly not because I feel pressured to adhere to society’s idea of what constitutes being a reasonably productive member of society.

I’m going to have to accept I will likely never entertain at home again, because everything about hosting is exhausting. I love it, but I can’t clean, cook, clean after cooking, then hang out with people, then clean up myself, all in one day.

So everything that has to do with these things I no longer do or no longer want to do can and should go.
If this sounds like I’ve given up on most of the things that are conventionally accepted as “necessary” to be part of society, well, yes.

Before anyone worries that means society will turn its back on me because I’ve rejected it — I regret to inform you that as a disabled fat woman, “conventional” society already had.

And we’ve passed 2000 words and my back wants to murder me, so I’m going to leave the question of skincare stuff, supplements, and social media for another day.