On the road to minimalism
Sitting in the dark in a room empty but for the one bed, I am having a strange, misplaced feeling of elation. Misplaced, because right now we’re in the middle of another power cut. There’s at least one every day at the moment, usually scheduled and predictable. This one wasn’t scheduled. I should be frustrated and busy cursing the people responsible. As are most South Africans right now. But I am sitting in a very comfortable bed under just enough blankets to keep the new winter cold away from my toes. I have a pizza box on my lap and a laptop playing a scrumptious action movie in front of that. (From a hard-drive, because Netflix doesn’t work without Wi-Fi…) With Sly AND Arnie together. Bonus. (I admit action films are not my thing, but you know, sometimes, you just need that little bit of adrenaline) It’s dark outside already, since 17h35 or so, and that means I’m going to have an extended evening and can still go to sleep early, hahaha. I was planning to work past sunset today but the powers that be had other plans for me, cutting the power like that…
I was planning to work later than usual today because I unexpectedly found myself caught up in a whirlwind the likes of which I had not planned, today. I just about emptied my house in under 6 hours ! One whole week before I am due to leave… Which is why I am sitting in a room with just a bed. And a laptop. And a delivery pizza.
See, yesterday I was offered a tiny little pay-check for someone to come empty my house, take EVERYTHING away to their second-hand-store, the day before it gets transferred to its new owners. They’d be doing me a favour, clearing everything and paying me to do it. Better than trying to find one buyer for each and every item in the house, and all that in time for vacation day. Vacating. Vacation. Yes, for me.
So last night I spent hours awake instead of sleeping (I love to sleep did I mention that ?) feeling guilty that I could really let go of all the THINGS I’d collected over so many years, for so little cash. Granted, most of my stuff is hand-me-downs or hand-me-sideways or thrifted or some sort of second-hand, because I Like the idea of things having history, and that doesn’t mean antiques either — antiques are a look-at-me kind of possession, which doesn’t fit my model. So there I was feeling not OK with this easy solution, when I decided to make a deal with myself. I’d post on my favourite local social groups just the most likely items and see what response I’d get by the afternoon, before giving these people an answer. So in the morning I took photos of couches, kettle, beds, curtains, tables, chairs, plates, glasses, everything. Got a bit carried away and included about everything the kids hadn’t booked for their small flats already… I drew up a list with photos and embarrassingly low prices (I figured, go with a price I myself would find tasty to buy such things at rather than a price that my pocket would thank me for). And I posted. On my neighbourhood WhatsApp group, and on the Joburg French expats group, which has lots of experience with people emptying their house for emigration purposes.
Not a minute ticked by and my devices started dinging and pinging and doinging and all the other notification sounds under the sun ! By lunchtime I had pocketed almost as much as those other people had offered, and booked collection of just as much again. My house was now empty of beds, plates, wine glasses, tables, chairs, shelves, garden-loungers, lawnmower, screens and more books had gone. And I still have two couches and a very comfortable bed to re-home.
And yesterday my car left me as well. I loaded it on several websites and had it washed and prettied up as much as I could (after 7 years of being a great-dane’s favourite haunt), thinking any buyers would walk away at the sight of it — well I got better than I expected for it, and even complimented for it, so really it wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be (to myself, I didn’t say anything out loud of course). I think I’d overinflated the hopelessness of the situation to myself. Underestimated the potential. Maybe I was also unaware that there are people out there who sell their cars in far, far worse condition than mine… And there I was stressing it would never sell before I fly. A bit like the stress I was having a few months ago, what was I going to do if my dear great-dane didn’t give up her bone and was still living strong by the time I had to leave ?? perish the thought of re-homing that old lady. Well somehow she knew and her time did come. Sadly relieved. She set me free. And herself, poor old rickety darling.
Whats’ the moral of this story ? Don’t loose hope. A little elbow grease will always get you farther than a quick fix. Trust in the people around you. Where there’s a will there’s a way. One step at a time and it all gets done eventually. If you know where you’re going you WILL get there, trust in the process. All those one-liner motivationals. Come right back at me. You can read them on socials every day and know yeah, true, that’s right. And not Really Know Them. Until you go through something like this, and you realise, damn, you know, those motivationals actually tell the truth ! They’ve made such grooves in my thinking from reading them over and over again without paying too much attention that my thinking has in fact now begun to flow in their direction. Like rickety old wagon wheels in old stone rutted roads. There’s a thought for you. Form habits or let habits form you. Chicken or the egg ?
Plus there’s a strange kind of satisfaction seeing all the things that defined your life, your you in a way, go off on their way to living a new life and have a part in creating someone’s else’s story. It took me months of deliberating with myself, but eventually I let go of my big Pooh Bear that had been following me since I was very little. I thought it would feel like a betrayal, sending him away, but after he’d gone, I was happy for him. He’d get to make a new little kid happy instead of sitting there on my chair staring at the same corner of the room, day-in, day-out. Or maybe he’d even make a great-dane happy and let her tear him apart piece by piece with great joy. Like Dutchy used to do. That always made wonder what those stuffed toys felt about their fate. I digress.
With the house all empty and all the things and the people who used to decorate it and breathe in it all gone, it’s not emptiness I feel, but fullness ! At last I can hear myself breathe, I can fill the whole space with just me ! Fancy that. It’s wonderfully quiet and peaceful. Every moment I look back at myself and feel the joy of everything that is. I CREATED this life. And I’m going to create a whole lot more, and look back every moment and feel the joy of it. There were times way-back, when I didn’t know to do this. I didn’t know. And it wasn’t nice.
Well I’ll only post this online tomorrow when the power’s back and I’ve had my (beauty) sleep.
Night all !
Do you want to hear more of my emigration adventures and what happens when I finally get there ? Hit the button below and you’ll get an update straight into your inbox whenever I write a post. I promise I won’t spam you, I don’t post all that often, just enough for you to start wondering what I’m up to ! Feel free to share my publication with your acquaintances, you never know ho could do with some extra info for emigrating from South Africa to France, I’m always open to answering questions too :)
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I’d love it if you would buy me a coffee, now my coffee-machine is gone ;)
Originally published at https://gaellegosselin.substack.com on May 23, 2022.
