Embracing Imperfect Minimalism and Low Waste Living

I'll be completely transparent here: I'm far from being a perfect minimalist or a flawless advocate for low waste living. In fact, I wouldn't even classify myself as "good" in these areas. There are times when I indulge in fast food, complete with its disposable packaging, whether it's during travel or on those exhausted nights when my family and I are simply living life to the fullest. Plastic bottles and bags still find their way into my shopping cart, and I occasionally buy single-serve snacks for my children that come in individual packaging.

Now, you may wonder why I'm sharing all of this with you. Well, I want to encourage you to embark on this journey without feeling discouraged by the sometimes-unrealistic portrayals of low waste and minimalist living that flood our Instagram feeds and Pinterest boards. It's easy to get caught up in the pursuit of perfection when we see how others have transformed their lives, only to glance at our own reality and feel overwhelmed by the difficulty of achieving that end result or by the ease with which we slip back into old habits.

In the Beginning

During my early years, I absorbed my organizational and environmental values from my single, disabled (deaf), and financially challenged mother. For her, the focus was on providing the necessities of life at an affordable price. The foods we consumed often consisted of items that were cost-effective to store and had long shelf lives. However, that didn't mean we compromised on health. My mother made sure we ate vegetables and fruits, even if they were often canned, frozen, or had extended shelf or refrigerator lives. These values continued to shape my life as I transitioned through different stages. I'm sure you can relate, as many of us learn our organizing techniques and values from our parents or parental figures. It's fascinating how these influences persist.

When my mother's mental illness took a toll on her and she could no longer parent, I moved in with my grandparents. There, I began to learn their values and organization priorities. While they were not as financially challenged, they were incredibly frugal. In their household, nothing of value was wasted, and any item that entered our home, especially if it was free, held value. In my young adulthood, I carried all of these lessons with me to college. My dorm room became a packed space, filled with everything I had ever owned. It was tidy to some extent, but still overwhelming. I remember hauling all those belongings in my Toyota Celica from my small coastal home to my college town two hours away. As summer break approached, the thought of repacking everything into my car was daunting, so I made the next best decision: I rented a storage unit.

Something remarkable happened during that summer. I completely forgot about all the things that had seemed so important to me, only to be confronted by them again upon my return to school. It took me several hours and trips to empty that unit. It was during that moment that my love for organizing truly blossomed. After clearing out my storage unit, I realized the need for better organization. Like any well-intentioned person, I believed that purchasing organizing systems would solve my clutter woes. So, I did what seemed logical and bought an assortment of bins, baskets, and file folders. My dorm room soon resembled a showcase from the Container Store. Everything had its designated place, neatly tucked away in bins or baskets. However, I soon discovered that my elaborate system was too complicated to manage effectively. Before long, I found myself resorting to my old habit of tossing items into a bin and shoving them out of sight. While I initially adored this system, I failed to recognize that the real issue wasn't the system itself but rather the sheer quantity of items crammed into it, making it impractical and ineffective.

As I approached the end of my school year, one valuable lesson became evident: I had brought far more items with me than I could possibly use or genuinely cared about. Realizing this, I made a conscious decision to scale back and keep only the essentials for my dorm room the following year. The surplus belongings were carefully boxed up and taken back to my grandmother's house. I couldn't bear to simply discard all those seemingly useful but ultimately unnecessary items. Surely, my grandmother would find a purpose for them, or so I thought. Unfortunately, she didn't have a use for them either. Nevertheless, neither of us could part with the items, so she divided the boxes and scattered them throughout her modest home.

Fast forward more than 20 years later and after my grandmother's passing, a significant portion of that college clutter was still lingering in her house. Forgotten and holding little sentimental value, those items continued to occupy precious space. It served as a reminder that the excess stuff we accumulate often fades into oblivion, especially when we don't actively use or appreciate them on a regular basis.

Small changes count too

I often face challenges in finding bulk bins in my area, and the few that do exist tend to be more expensive than purchasing pre-portioned packages. To counter this, I've adopted a strategy of utilizing the products I buy to make other food items from scratch or mostly from scratch. This approach helps me limit the amount of packaging I bring home. There are certain things I don't worry about too much, like seaweed chips that my daughters absolutely adore and consume almost daily as a healthy snack. I haven't come across them in a zero waste bin or provider. If you happen to know of any in the US, please send them my way! 😊 However, I do make intentional, not perfect, efforts to reduce my contribution to plastic waste, where I can. I am more mindful of the foods I purchase so that my household uses the food we buy to reduce food waste. I am not perfect but I am more intentional.

I share this not to highlight my imperfections in minimalist and low waste living, but to assure you that it's perfectly okay if you're not perfect either. Instead of fixating on unattainable ideals, I encourage you to make a sustainable choice each day. Discover alternative uses for prepackaged jars and bottles, support sustainable brands whenever possible, and reduce food waste by planning meals around what you purchase. Most importantly, don't give up. While today may be challenging, I promise you that each tomorrow will make this journey a little bit easier. It's a continuous process of learning and improvement, and every sustainable choice we make contributes to a better future.