Material minimalism does not come easy to me. I get attached to small, seemingly awkward things like me and tend to hold on to them long after they've withered or longed (secretly) to relocate. It's not so much that I like things, but the people and places behind those things surround and envelop me with their stories. It is a work in progress.
Miswrote. I is a work in progress. Went back to correct, though that works too.
And so I wonder often what attracts me to minimalism, the practice and ethos of it, and when I'm lucky and my thoughts don't get jangly, I even remember. I've always been a social minimalist, though I haven't always been willing to show it.
I realize that often my fitting in is forced, haphazard. One corner of me will always hang a little askew from the canvas. For a long time, I felt that was a fault - mine - that needed correcting. I would try to keep in touch, force myself to be outgoing when I didn't want to be. For long stretches of time, I prioritized some form of social success. I would go places and force myself to meet people, talk to people I had nothing in common with, harried by the suspicion that I might, in my heart, be a recluse.
I didn't want to be. It seemed so important, fitting in.
Once.
The strange thing is, it worked. In some ways. In some ways, I'm quite extraverted. If I'm feeling so inclined (read, if my fears are insisting that I act like someone I'm not), I can be loud, charming, boisterous. Talkative and personable. When I want to be, but then, I never know when that facade's going to drop. The tricky bit when playing with an identity that doesn't belong to you is that it can slip off at any moment.
You can go against instinct, but sooner or later, instinct rises up like summer storm and orders that you stop playing about.
The connections I made while pretending to be someone I'm not didn't take or mean very much.
The choice to simplify came not so much as a conscious decision as it did from an immense sense of desolation. Not tiredness, exactly. I have great energy that I can apply to the task of being someone else, but that's taking away from other tasks. Like writing. I feel a great wealth of self, an inner richness since decluttering my social circle. And some of that is the energy and time I've gained back, but the real difference has been shedding that desperation to fit in.
Something there was always foul. Misfiring. I can be happy amidst people only when I stop trying.
I stop trying.
Coming back to physical minimalism, it can be hard for others to understand when you stop caring about certain material aspects. Going to the mall. Expensive, fancy gifts. But the truth, even there, is that I never really cared. Only in as much as they garnered me social acceptance. As a teenager, I used to want expensive make-up. Jewelry, also, seemed important for a while. And while I still love jewelry and make-up occasionally, I realize now that springing for certain brands and colorful packages was only a surface-level attempt to fit in.
I got tired of pretending I care about things. Blouses at the mall. Another shoulder bag. Who cares? How many shoulders do you even have?
It didn't really impact my relationships, because those were rarified already. It's mostly people I've known a long time and quite well. People who, in other words, had already intuited I was only pretending. My relationships never hinged on expensive make-up, after all.
As for social minimalism, this intense desire to simplify my life brought with it surprises. Not only in the inner peace it awarded, but in the quality of people it attracts. I realize now that people aren't really attracted to or impressed by you forcing it. Rather, I'd say, I like the connections I've made since I stopped trying to fit in a lot better than the ones from before. They're easier, more natural. Some of them intensely weird and inexplicable to the outside world.
They belong. I'm discovering I belong even when I don't.
It's marvelous.
As the title hints, this is in response to the MINIMALIST KISS prompt #135.
"It can be hard for other people to understand and accept minimalism. Has your choice to simplify your life caused a conflict or rift in your personal relationships?"
There's still time for you to try your hand at an answer if you haven't already.
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