The effects of overconsumption on our sensory health within our homes.
Are the minimalists right - would we feel better with less?
This blog post will be exploring why we de-clutter our homes, the emotional ties to possessions that hold us back from minimising, and puts a sensory perspective at the heart of our drive to minimise.
How often do we think about having “a good old clear out”? Some of us wake up, smell the coffee, take one look around the room and think, “now is the time” and run for a black sack. For others, it is seizing the moment after being captivated by an enthusiastic stranger on a screen showcasing a “before and after” of their landing cupboard looking pristine and stunningly organised. Whereas for many, is it the poignant moment when we finally lose our proverbial from having stepped on a handful of loose Lego abandoned on the stairs that gives us the adrenalin spike we need to push us into whipping up messy bun hair, get on the warpath and down to serious business with the kid’s play room.
Tellingly, the “no buy” lifestyle seems to be catching on. Conversations on the school run, in the queue at Tesco’s and proud announcements on the Instagram feed. Trend doesn’t quite feel the right word as it is such a sharp commitment to change, that calling it a lifestyle choice feels more suitable. Either way, the need to simplify our homes from a practical perspective is there. We simply own more things than we have space for.
Are we actually trying to simplify our lives by simplifying our possessions?
Does, in fact, listening to our senses and not trends or fads hold the key to feeling happier in our homes?
Marie Kondo and her “Spark Joy” movement springs to mind. This philosophy addresses the emotional tie to an object we own. Does it make us feel sad or mournful, happy and energised or resentful and bitter? By asking yourself this you are tuning into your interoceptive sense – often called the eighth sense. This sense oversees internal sensations; physical sensations of hunger, thirst and pain, as well as the emotional sensations of anxiety, fear, feeling safe, happy, calm and the like. What we are doing through using this method is removing items that do not create positive connotations in our brain so that we have a home that is only filled with things that, as described, “Spark Joy”.
I personally feel we need to look past simply how something makes us feel, but how we interact with it physically before making a judgement call on its role in our home. For example, does the old armchair ergonomically support our weight or provide subtle movement that we crave that we could make even better by reupholstering in a new fabric and colour? The proprioceptive and vestibular needs of something is just as important to our sensory and emotional health as the interoceptive.
When I look at the spread of possessions throughout our house being used in a world of imagination with toys, games, gel pens and clothes constantly underfoot, I see visual evidence that I know we have far more stuff than we need, yet we still use.
Possessions spread like water without set borders. They flood the house. We have so much, yet it is all in demand.
Because of this, with all the heartache that is going on in the world and how fortunate we are compared to so many on this planet, this issue of overconsumption hovers over me guiltily. When we have a bed to sleep in, a table to eat at and a dry roof over our head, should that be gratitude enough?
Is our addiction to the excessive consumerism of endless toys and games, wardrobes that spill over and piles of half emotionally attached to possessions a product of 21st century greed?
I believe so, and I long to live with less.
Yet how do we think of starting to minimise when we use, get value from, and enjoy the things we have? With the current favourite toys at ours being Lego and Brio we have volume issues. These are toys that seemingly have no end and insatiably fill the house. You can never have enough bricks or track. All in the name of education and creativity we are building, playing and making it awesome. A Brio train track crafted throughout the entire downstairs becomes a hazard for everyone besides the agile cat. All whilst we give ourselves a round of internal applause because it meant no screens for a few hours.
Should we take more responsibility for this as adults by putting boundaries in place within our home on the endlessness of toy kitchen supplies, thousands of Legos and gel pens?
So, when the idea of committing to a minimalist home feel so detached from reality for so many of us, how do we battle overconsumption?
It's a hard sell. It’s all played with. It’s all used. It’s all argued over and buying more to stop the squabbles sometimes feels like the best solution. But the problem isn’t solved by buying more of the same thing, the argument of who plays with what still appears. But for sanity’s sake, I feel it does come to a point where you have to say, “no, we have enough.”
To add to the volume of “stuff” that comes with having three small kids, we are also a military family. We travel around the country during our many, many house moves with boxes and kit bags that only military personnel and their families can understand and appreciate. It all needs to be accessible “just in case” – and we have needed this “just in case” access more than once. This isn’t just hoarded away, they’re the things that we put in the “in use, but also not in use” category. And I know we’re not the only ones who have this category of possessions stashed away in corners of our homes.
But when our homes come with added complexity of a neurodivergence (or two) what do we do with the volume of “stuff” then? The excess that comes from autistic hoarding, the beloved collections, and the multitude of dopamine impulse purchases. These possessions, as random as they may seem, also fall into the “in use, but also not in use” category.
We’re left asking: How do we minimize the things we can’t minimize?
One of these collections in our home are that of tiny stones, seeds and little rocks. Squirrelled away in little pockets mean my washing machine is constantly on edge. But let’s also not forget the sweeties stashed away in the adult’s pocket as well. These too have succumbed to the washing machine on more than one occasion. Whether they were still eaten afterwards is not for my eyes or stomach to know. But then I see my own collections – books, multiple cushions and countless but beautiful, pottery and vases. Just because they are aesthetically more appealing, don’t fit in my pockets and are visually more acceptable than slime in the carpet and pet hair in a squashy, doesn’t make them any less unnecessary.
It stands to reason that the definition of unnecessary is in the eye of the individual having the clear out, not the owner of the items.
I may not want a box of stones in the house because those stones take up room that could be used for storing something that I value more worthwhile, like the 100,000 loose loom bands situation going on upstairs. (IYKYK…)
William Morris said, “Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” Who is it for me to say that the (not so little) pile of stones – or storage box as it has now been upgraded to – is not believed to be useful or beautiful?
For many people, it doesn’t seem to be the concept itself of having a home edit that causes friction. A lot of of us jump at the idea with a caffeine fuelled passion. What causes the friction is knowing when we can let something go.
So much of our possessions are from a previous version of ourselves – the party dresses that no longer fit, boxes of DVDs from those child-free evenings that we had to spend at our leisure, and the versions of ourselves that we aspire to be. The exercise equipment we brought and still long to use but just don’t have the energy, lest the opportunity to use, but if we keep it, it still might be a possibility that we will. Holding onto these items allows us to feel safe that we may yet well be that person who uses them, whilst reminiscing about the version of ourselves we once were.
When it comes to the nitty gritty of our sorting, there are two categories of emotion and attachment that we get stuck with:
There are the things that we love and cannot part with, but those we live with don’t love. The unused baby toys, outgrown story books and the too small clothes filled with memory and sentimentality spring to mind.
The things that we don’t have any attachment to and we long to get rid of, but those we live with do love them and do use them. Slime, squishies and last year’s dog-eared paw patrol magazine that’s held together with sellotape and covered in stickers.
We get stuck with what to do with these items and where their place is in our homes when we look at them from our own perspective and not from those we live with.
To move forward from this quagmire, let’s ask ourselves what is our goal when it comes to decluttering?
Are we wanting to create more floor space to move more freely without falling and tripping (our proprioceptive and vestibular senses)
Are we wanting to remove items from our field of vision because it’s become an eye sore (creating visual overwhelm).
When we approach our editing from these sensory questions, we take ownership over the root cause of our issue which then helps us gain clarity.
Organising comes easily to some and is a real joy and lifeline, but it can be a real enigma to others. We only need think of the volume of highly popular TV shows, books and social media pages dedicated to helping people tidy, organise and edit their possessions to see that such a dilemma exists. Yet it can be easy to feel like we’re failing or falling behind in some digital aesthetic race to have our homes presentable and tidy 24/7 because the internet says so and has made people a lot of money from saying so.
Evidence of this is nowhere more specifically displayed then when we look at our kitchen cupboards. Social media will have us believing that our cupboards need organising perfectly in height, colour and food group order in boxes within boxes. If you simply count the financial cost of this, let alone the cost in time and emotional energy, we quickly realise how much we are spending on vanity, both financially and emotionally. Whilst yes, these pantries look very pretty on our social media newsfeed,
what we are falling for is the need for control, order and visual stimulation.
The kitchen cupboard feels a manageable small start; one we could do easily and without much effort. We know how satisfying it will look and how brilliant we will feel at creating such a visual boost. Such organised and colour pleasing aesthetic helps to regulate our sense of sight. It also calms our interoceptive sense.
A well-stocked and visually appealing food cupboard allows us to relax by knowing we have enough. We’re not going to run out and be cut short. It reduces our anxiety. But the practical cost is the spacial footprint that such ventures take up. Most of us simply do not have the room in our homes and it speaks to our need for things to be immediate that has become ingrained in our mind. Waiting an additional 48 hours before the next big shop is an inconvenience that the most of us are not prepared to wait for. Covid and the savage shortages of everyday items have a large part to play in this, because it happened. We really did run out of loo roll, bread making flour and hand sanitiser. The psychological effects of this have altered our psyche and it shows in our organising behaviours.
A third area that we can easily get stuck with:
3. The things that we have inherited from loved ones that we keep out of emotion.
These items may not have been our personal choice if time and finances been on our side. The out of place side table, the old but perfectly useable desk lamp and the mishmash of crockery given as a practical donation to “start you off” but here they are all those years and decades later, still with you, half used, half ignored but you feel 100% obligated to keep.
One way to approach these scenarios is to ask ourselves:
With what intention was this given? What was the motive behind it?
Did someone (even a close loved one) just want to be rid of it and they made it your problem to get rid of in due course? Was it a case of your need meets their opportunity? If you can answer yes to that question, then you can feel guilt free in passing it on to someone else via Facebook Marketplace, the community WhatsApp group, or even the local pre-school.
Once we’ve taken the emotion out of the item in question, we then can ask two sensory questions:
How does this help regulate individuals in the home from a tactile, visual and ergonomic perspective?
Does it cause dysregulation or emotional frustration to anyone at home – does it fit practically, is it the wrong material or colour?
Whilst everyone’s sensory processing needs are different, if it helps a loved one regulate, relax and feel calm through its use then it stays. It may need to have an agreed upon home, such as a particular cupboard, but it stays – yes, even that slime. (Though do try and switch it out for therapy putty. I promise you – that simple change does makes a difference.)
However, if it is being held out of semi-emotional ties that have no positive sensory feedback or is not used because it doesn’t work for you and your family in the way you need, then consider donating. Emotionally hard? Yes, especially when it is from someone who is no longer with us, but you don’t need to keep every item to remember or honour them. Some memories are more powerful than others, and there will be plenty of other items that have memories attached with them that you will want to keep with a full and grateful heart.
So, what about minimalism; does it in fact hold the key to feeling happier in our homes?
Don’t be so eager to take this as an invitation to grab the bin bags and savagely dispose of anything that doesn’t shout “you need me” or holds you emotionally hostage.
Being content with less is less about the quantity and more of quality.
How does it meet your sensory needs? Does it calm you or a loved one by how it smells, feels, looks and sounds. Does it help you and your family regulate through its movement, balance or ergonomic design?
By simply looking at our home with the idea of it needing to provide a positive spark we miss the other needs that it may be bringing us without fully understanding how our possessions help us regulate and improve our sensory health.
As much as I’d love to live in a minimalist home, I live with people who don’t. Whilst I am guilty of the caffeine fuelled rage cleans, I am more conscious of what it is and how it helps my family regulate.
So, as I go off to tidy a child’s bedroom for the 3rd time this week, the ottoman of Lego goes on my mental list to sort through, the storage box of stones will survive the purge, but the sweeties in the pockets will not.
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If this has inspired you to approach your home differently. how about start with the complementary 31 day checklist whereby each day gives a different item to consider from a sensory perspective as to whether you can replace, recycle or keep them enabling you to feel guided through your home as if i was right there with you.