Zero

I am worth nothing – no, wait. I belay my last. I’m actually worth less than nothing. From the time I’m writing this my bank account is currently showing overdraft charges pending, meaning I have an account balance of less than zero. So if ‘technically speaking’ I’m worth less than nothing, why do I feel like a billionaire.

Firstly, let me explain how I got here. Since the time I was eighteen years of age, and shipped off to college in the scenic town of Williamsport, Pennsylvania I began what would be a very shaky road down the path of excess (with my drinking habits already in full form two years prior). I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was already gearing myself up to take a plunge off of the deep end. I had everything I would have needed to physically survive the dive, but I would have never made it back to the surface mentally. In my search to bring home a degree, I also began my search for something else- ‘stuff’.

I had purchased things with my own money on plenty of occasions through high school via working your typical fast-food and retail positions, but I had a limited area in my bedroom where I could store my ‘stuff’. Now that I was in college, I had a large room with plenty of closet space along with the excuse ‘you just don’t remember that I already owned this ‘stuff’’. But when it came time to fill up my parents’ vehicle each summer, the look of disappointment began to fill up their eyes as well. You don’t successfully load up a vehicle in the fall only to barely squeeze it all in come spring with things that ‘you just don’t remember’. Being on my own gave me a sense of freedom. And with that I became a slave to ‘stuff’. After all, nothing in this world is for free. But I thought to myself, I wasn’t just loading up my parents vehicle with ‘stuff’, this was my future. That new guitar for the band I was going to form when I got back home, the new amp to accompany my new guitar, the new wardrobe so I could look and play the part of an alternative metalhead (alt-\m/), and that new recording device to record my band while we played at all the local bars and venues around my hometown of Berwick, PA. It didn’t take a second for my parents to smell past the bullshit however. I was so immersed in everything that I couldn’t even smell the foul from my own mouth, spewing more bullshit with each excuse for each new purchase I had made since fall.

As you might have guessed the new band never showed up to any of the local bars, and neither did my $800 guitar, $700 amp, my $500 wardrobe, or my $400 recording device. Twenty-four hundred dollars later, and I had nothing to show for it. Fast-forward ten years later and I still have nothing to show from these purchases. (I’m worth even less than nothing now though, remember?). Today I have a different guitar, different amp, not a single article of clothing from the wardrobe, and now my iPhone or Zoom recorder takes care of any recording needs. What I am left with however is the same problem – I still have a ton of ‘stuff’. That word has left my lips with the costs in the thousands sealed with it. We’ve all heard the expression ‘you can’t take it with you’ – until recently, I lived my life as though I expected to take it all and store it in the mausoleum at my local cemetery. I figure at the rate I was spending I’d be working until the end of my days, spending my last dollars on the shovel I’ll use to dig my own grave. The only problem is it’ll be so full of ‘stuff’ there wouldn’t be any room left for me. I’ll be left with no choice but for the gravedigger to feed my rotting corpse to the crows, torn piece by bloody piece.

Now with that black image in mind, I’ll paint you an even darker one – Imagine being so broke that you have to lie to your mother saying you forgot your wallet at your apartment and you have no money for gas (which was partially true) , and then being so dishonest you spend it on a bottle of whiskey instead of filling up your car to see you got back on your way again. Imagine being such a drunk that the same night you call for an order of pizza and wings but you’ve passed out by the time they got there, unresponsive to their calls and knocks on the door. Imagine being so obsessed with ‘stuff’ that the next day instead of buying a few grocery items to last you the week, you buy that new game instead, forcing you to steal from your employers snack area in order to provide at least some sort of nutrition and nourishment for the week. I was living in the depths of hell. It’s colder than you might think.

I look back on my last ten years and feel like I’ve barely grown as a person. But how could I with all the ‘stuff’ that was weighing me down. Nearly three weeks ago, I went to my local GameStop and purchased a handful of games, then headed to my local Goodwill to purchase a handful of books. I hurried home to reorganize my collection of each (because it’s not a problem if it has a sense of order to it, right?) and noticed that I just purchased a game which I already owned two copies of, and noted I had purchased a duplicate copy of a book as well, this time in hardcover. The next day at work over my lunch hour I searched Google with the phrase ‘How to get rid of over 2,000 books’.  It was this search which led me to clicking on the first link to a blog page titled The Minimalists.

I lost count somewhere around 1,600 books and I still had what must have been surely 1,000 more organized throughout my kitchen cabinetry (because my kitchen supplies were at this point stuffed in my bathroom closet). Assuming one-pound a book, I quite literally owned a ton of ‘stuff’. I had a collection of CD’s and DVD’s in the hundreds ‘organized’ throughout my apartment. I also had a collection of wine and liquor bottles ‘organized’ throughout my apartment as well. My ‘stuff’ was on display for all to see. I was proud of my ‘stuff’ – taking regular photos after I had finished ‘organizing’. I was even having difficulties focusing at work because I was constantly thinking about new ways to ‘organize’ my ‘stuff’ or updating my budget to purchase new ‘stuff’. I thought I was the title that read on my business card, I thought I was the account balance line at my bank, I thought I was the new car I was aspiring to own, I thought I was only worth the card limits inside my wallet, and obviously I thought I was my fucking khakis. I had stopped singing and was never good at dancing to begin with.

I had watched Fight Club and appreciated the memorable quotes and ideals presented in the film, but thought nothing of it. Deemed merely for entertainment purposes, and quickly ignored its values. I was familiar with the shows showcasing the hoarding problems others dealt with and thought nothing of them as well. These people are only collecting junk, while I’m here collecting knowledge, where’s the harm in that I thought?

I believe that it was perhaps reading that someone had the answer to the exact question I was hoping would be solved. That really hit home for me. Perhaps I did actually have a problem like those featured in Fight Club, or those that are featured on some of the reality TV shows. I never recognized all the hours I spent reorganizing my study to accommodate new books or reorganizing my game binders by which games I would play next for the third day in-a-row, but ultimately never got to them either. I remember this intense emotion that came over me. It wasn’t due to the hours I lost or the thousands of dollars I spent, but it was noticing all the time I would now have to spend with my friends and loved ones, and all the money I would be saving to allow for more experiences with them, and an opportunity to start saving time towards the future – time is money.

I began to get rid of more and more items. I started with what seemed to have been a decent approach. Later that evening I placed my favorite three games and books alike into a bag and returned them back to the GameStop and Goodwill from the previous night. After nearly having a panic-attack on the way, a feeling of extreme peace came over me after ridding of these three pieces from my former collection of ‘stuff’. And so each day for the rest of that week I began to reorganize for the last time. I began what would be many additional trips to many local thrift stores, not even caring if I collected a single nickel from my collections. The price had already been paid, and I didn’t see much good in trying to collect any of it back.

I’ve since began to minimize everything else that I own. It’s such an incredible experience walking into my apartment now and being able to say this is me. Look, I realize that we’re not our things, but don’t your things have a right to be you? After looking back on the carloads of items I brought to miscellaneous thrift stores, most of what I owned wasn’t me. Instead it consisted of items that society had taught me to own, what my family and friends expected me to own – as a bachelor ready to take on the world of home furnishings and gadgets.

I have so many creative and business oriented ideas floating around in my head now that I’ve allowed for a decluttered mind as well. I only hope that with my newly found space I can further clear the room needed to allow these ideas to fly instead of just floating about like they were, existing and with no room to breath from being surrounded by ‘stuff’. This is certainly a good place to start my journey– I’m on my way back to five, four, three, two, one… zero.