Living With a Non-Minimalist

February 24, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Minimalism, Mental Illness

I’m a very tidy person. In addition to my passion for getting rid of stuff, I like having a little place for each of my things to go. I like to restore my apartment to the point where all of my little riff-raff is put away and, most importantly, hidden. I have one shelf on our living room bookshelves for my mini-office. I keep my current notebooks and bullet journal at one end with a tiny Japanese teacup that holds one of my 3 pens (yes, I only have 3- one for my purse, one for my bedside, and one here). I have about a dozen books for reading and reference, a wooden box of tarot cards, a picture frame with photos of my grandmother in her youth in a bikini. I have less frequently-used notebooks tucked in at the far end along with a couple of folders with plastic sleeves where I keep magazine tear-outs or poems scribbled on scraps of paper. And this is really everything I need. It’s all tucked away on one little shelf and I love it that way.

My husband has a drastically different system. The remaining 8 bookshelves are filled with his books, just a selection from the large collection he keeps in his office. Speaking of his office, I often lament its unbearable disarray, but in his eyes it’s functional and he knows where everything is. This seems to be a common claim from less-than-tidy people- that they know where everything is within the mess. But in this case I believe it’s actually true. The only times things get confusing are when I try to “help” get him organized; that’s when things tend to get lost. Aside from that though, there is just the occasional misplacing of a wallet or pair of headphones, or any frequently used item that leaves the house on a regular basis. And truly, my husband’s book collection is essential to his work- but it doesn’t make it any easier for me to live with. I can’t shake the fantasy of a life where items are returned to drawers and not strewn around on the counter or nightstand. I designate drawers in every room specifically for his things, hoping he’ll make use of them. But he forgets what’s in the drawers and then forgets to do things, like take his vitamins or finish reading a New Yorker. I periodically (pun intended) sort through his magazines with him, asking if any can be recycled or if he still plans to read them (he kindly humors me). And yet his nightstand is always overflowing despite the three large drawers it contains. (I myself have a tiny table with no drawers and a small felt bin underneath where I keep a pen, a weighted eye mask, a coaster, and sometimes my headphones. On the table is a box of tissues and sometimes my phone.) Aside from the magazines and books and toiletries that must be on the sink top in order to be found, there is the kitchen collection of appliances and gadgets which are rarely, if ever, used- probably because I insist on storing them away, and for Matt, out of sight is out of mind. For an enthusiastic minimalist like myself, there are days when I feel like I’m living in chaos. Everywhere I turn, I see little piles of stuff that seem to appear out of nowhere and then multiply. The meticulous care and thought I’ve put into arranging my things for the good of having a clean, impeccably tidy home feels wholly unreciprocated by my husband. Some part of me feels offended that the state of things can’t change. This is especially hard when I imagine that a tidier home would help the symptoms of my mental illness; whether this is true, I doubt greatly. But the real issue is that I’m not the only person to consider here; my husband is a person, too. He deserves to feel comfortable in our home without being constantly vigilant in hiding away his belongings. It’s easy enough for me to tidy things up if guests arrive, so when it’s just us, I have to concede to Matt on this one. So much of our life revolves around my needs, my problems. Matt has to rush to my side when my mood plummets, he has to tiptoe around my feelings with certain issues, and he is constantly vigilant of my needs and wishes. And so tidiness is one area where I must surrender constant control. I can at the very least let him decide for himself what goes on his nightstand, how many books he wants to own, or whether to keep the dream of breadmaking alive. Because while I may want to be a minimalist, I can’t become so obsessed as to interfere with him living his life. Now I have made efforts to convert him, and he’s let some things go. But the truth is, it’s not in his nature to live a stark, rigidly ordered existence. His organizing style may not please me aesthetically, but it does allow him to be incredibly creative and effective in his work and otherwise. So I take a deep breath, hold back my controlling nature, and try to focus on my own stuff, material or otherwise. I truly want a happy home, and if this helps achieve that end, I’m more than willing to oblige.

Going Vegan and Coming Right Back

February 24, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Food

I watch a lot of Youtube. There’s something so soothing about watching TV where nothing happens; you just get to witness mundane details of someone’s life. One of those details that comes up again and again is the fact that the Youtuber in question is vegan. It’s become so common on Youtube (at least on the lifestyle channels I tend to watch) that veganism became mainstream, or even wholesome in my mind. I’m always looking for the simplest solution to things, and eating a vegan diet began to seem like one of those simple solutions. I tend to eat the same thing every day, so I began thinking about vegan substitutions for the animal products I eat on a daily basis. For breakfast, I have a cherry smoothie with Greek yogurt in it (it gives me 20 grams of protein, something I need to get going in the morning). So I thought that plant-based protein powder would be the perfect substitute for the yogurt. For lunch, I usually eat some tuna salad on an English muffin, so I got some chickpeas and vegan mayo to make a little faux-tuna salad. For snacks or dessert, I’ve been eating a couple cookies or a bit of chocolate, both of which have corresponding vegan options, so no problem there. And then my usual dinner is already vegan: a tofu-vegetable soup with “Nasoya Pasta Zero” in it (these are amazingly low-calorie noodles made from tofu or mushrooms- definitely check them out).

These changes seemed totally doable and I thought it would be a great, positive change for the environment and potentially for my health. My main motivation was the environmental angle (apparently 1 pound of beef takes 200,000 gallons of water to produce), so I assumed avoiding all animal products could only have positive effects on the planet. I mean, there are vast quantities of Youtube channels and blogs devoted solely to vegan recipes and lifestyles, shunning leather goods and even wool for ethical reasons. I really felt like this was more than a trendy bandwagon, and so I was ready to jump on.

Then I tried the protein powder. I choked down that first smoothie, chalky, chemical taste and all. I even justified the astronomical price for the plant-based protein powder, thinking it wasn’t that much more expensive than yogurt. But I felt positively sick after that smoothie, which led to me pondering what effect I was really having on the environment. I thought about how processed the protein powder was, how questionable the ingredients were, and how much fossil fuel and transportation were involved in its eventual arrival at my local Whole Foods. Was this really better for anyone than fresh, unsweetened yogurt? I wasn’t convinced.

Now chickpeas are a whole food, inexpensive, and unprocessed. But that vegan mayo- that was as outrageously priced as the protein powder, and raised the same questions for me regarding any positive effect on the environment. But here the main problem was in the significant difference in the quantity of protein my lunch now contained. I’m just one of those people who need a nap after a starchy meal, hence the tuna sandwiches. The change to the starchy beans was tolerable, but not great for my afternoon productivity.

Snacks were fine- definitely way more expensive, but just as tasty and sugary as their non-vegan counterparts. And that’s all I was really looking for in snacks and desserts.

Dinner, of course, just stayed dinner. I truly enjoy my vegetarian meals as much as my meals that include animal products. I actually love tofu and eat it all the time. Overall, though, I couldn’t quite swallow (pun intended) the taste, expense, or lack of protein in the various vegan foods I tried. It seems to me that vegan processed food is just as bad as non-vegan processed food in terms of environmental impact. And if you go for whole plant foods instead, you really sacrifice the amount of protein in your life.

And so I’m back to my old ways: I couldn’t stomach another smoothie, chickpea lunch, or $9 chocolate bar. Does this make me a bad person? I really don’t think so. I think my efforts for the environment would be much more effective by voting in elections, supporting the Green New Deal, writing to my State Congresspeople, and participating in political activism. A quote from a recent article in the NY Times really stuck with me: “…we live in a consumer culture that tells us we can make our political mark on the world through where we shop, what we wear, how we eat… But conscious consumption is a cop-out, a neo-liberal diversion from collective action, which is what is necessary… the effects of individual lifestyle choices are ultimately trivial compared with what politics can achieve.”

I wish all these Youtubers with vegan, zero-waste angles could be persuaded by these words. Participating in politics is a lot less trendy than using bamboo grocery bags, but unfortunately, it is the better answer to the world’s problems. Instead of going on and on about being vegan, perhaps we could make Youtube videos about registering to vote instead?

Four Perfectly Good Reasons To Gain Weight

February 18, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Food

Despite my great desire to be thin, I have struggled with my weight my entire life. It’s easy to blame the obvious reasons for weight gain: eating too much, exercising too little, etc. But I think it’s about time we got to the heart of the matter: the fact that there are legitimate reasons, especially for women, to gain weight. Some of these reasons are merely perceived while others are very real. I want to uncover these beliefs that tell us there are actual advantages to gaining weight.

1. People take you more seriously. Whether in the office or the dating scene, it is an unfortunate reality that being thin can cause you to be taken less seriously. People often objectify thin women, seeing them as merely nice to look at, as opposed to thinking, feeling human beings. Gaining weight can make those same people pay more attention to what comes out of your mouth than what you look like in a skirt. Potential suitors might tend to be less superficial and more concerned with the person you are. While on the surface it may seem that life is easier for thin people, being taken seriously may, in fact, be a struggle for them. This can lead to the subconscious belief in us that being heavier would remedy the problem. Such a belief is enough to sabotage your health and fitness goals and lead to weight gain.

2. You think you’re less likely to be raped. Whether or not this belief is actually true (I can’t find any relevant statistics online), this is actually a very common belief in women, whether conscious or subconscious. There is a great deal of research and academic writing on the association between obesity and childhood sexual abuse. Apparently becoming overweight is a disturbingly frequent response to sexual trauma. And while I doubt that gaining weight offers any real protection from rape or sexual assault, it is the underlying belief that it does that matters here. This belief alone can lead to weight gain.

3. Eating is your only source of comfort. There are times in most of our lives where overeating is the only thing we can do to cope with difficulty. The term “emotional eating” is practically mainstream (thanks, Oprah), and the behavior makes perfect sense. Whether you’re lonely, grieving, angry, or simply stressed out, food can be a great comfort. Not only does it provide distraction from our problems, but it provides a warm pressure in your belly that can further relieve the physical inner turmoil of negative emotions. Making a habit of turning to food for comfort can lead to overeating and weight gain, whether you consciously want it or not.

4. Weight drama is a great distraction. Going up and down the scale, taking on new extreme diets, cycling through different sizes of clothes, arranging your life around your diet and gym schedule- any one of these things would be a great distraction from real life. And when life is difficult or complicated, weight drama can be a welcome distraction from problems that can’t be solved. We are often baffled by how we can be sailing along on our latest diet when all of a sudden it goes out the window for no good reason. But the drama of our weight shooting back up the scale keeps us focused on our diet and distracted from everything else. It maintains the fantasy that losing weight is our only problem, and if it were solved, everything would be great. And when times are hard, keeping up this back and forth can actually be a welcome relief.

It may seem obvious to most of us that we want to be thin, that there is nothing good about weight gain, and that losing weight is the answer to all our problems. But it is important to keep in mind the potential benefits that weight gain can afford us. Recognizing and facing our underlying beliefs about weight can stop them from having power over us and help us resolve our issues with food. While I myself am attempting to lose weight for what seems like the millionth time, I am also trying to address my beliefs about body size and find alternative ways of taking care of myself. I am trying to assert myself, protect myself, comfort myself, and face my problems without using food to do it. I hope I can learn to speak for myself rather than have my weight do it for me.

Closet Contents and The Weight-Change Capsule Wardrobe

February 17, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Minimalism, Mental Illness, Capsule Wardrobe

It’s been a rough week. I fired my therapist (don’t ask), haven’t been leaving the house much, and haven’t had the wherewithal to do any reading or writing. I have managed to exercise, shower, make my own dinner, do dishes, do a load of laundry, and watch about 60 hours of Youtube. While it’s better than what I’ve been capable of at certain points in my life, it still feels pathetic, and hopelessness has crept back in.

My latest coping mechanism is fixating on the state of my closet. For someone with a capsule wardrobe, I have a ton of stuff in there. My closet acts as our linen closet, so there are extra pillows, bed sheets, and various quilts and blankets. Then there’s my sewing machine, a box of sewing supplies, and some leftover muslin. Then an acid-free box with my wedding outfit folded inside. My shoes are on a rack set up on a shelf, and my bags are lined up on that same shelf as well. I have a bin of packing cubes and reusable tote bags for travel. On the floor is a tiny stool for meditation and a large cushion for curling up on on really bad days. I have a chest of drawers that holds my pajamas, workout gear, socks, and underwear.

And then there’s my dirty little secret: the clothes I keep in storage. This is not seasonal storage, or cocktail dresses, or ski pants. It is solely clothes that do not fit me right now – or more specifically, clothes that are too small. I am near my highest weight ever right now, and I had to buy several items just to fill out the 25 item capsule I currently wear. But only a year and a half ago, I weighed 152 pounds (I’m well over 200 now), and I spent a lot of time, money, and energy finding clothes that fit me at that weight. My medications have played a big part in this weight fluctuation: Adderall helped me lose weight and Seroquel made me gain weight. But now that I’m off of both these meds, I am hoping to get back to a lower weight; hence the saving and storing of all these too-small clothes.

My weight has always fluctuated dramatically over the years, my lowest weight being around 125 and my new high being 224. I’ve had clothes at every size in between and whenever my weight would change, I’d get rid of what didn’t fit. It’s a common suggestion to get rid of anything that doesn’t fit, among minimalists and size-acceptance advocates alike. But the irony often was that I’d ditch the skinny clothes and immediately lose weight. Then I’d buy new skinny clothes, ditch whatever was too big, and immediately gain weight. This cycle continued over and over again. On a financial level as well as an environmental one, this is not a sustainable lifestyle.

So this last time that I lost weight (a year and a half ago), I kept my fat clothes. Only the ones I loved, but I kept a good amount and packed them away in a clear plastic bin on the top shelf of my closet. And when I gained weight once again, it saved me time and money having these clothes on hand. It’s hard to find things that fit at any size, so I was glad to not have to go shopping as my weight increased. And then I saved the smaller clothes in turn, thinking I’d pull them out when my weight went down again.

This seemed like a good system to me, and a good way to tell myself that I’m acceptable at any size, and deserve to wear clothes I love. This approach is something I call “The Weight-Change Capsule Wardrobe.” The strategy is to keep a small capsule of clothes for each size as opposed to each season. 25 items is plenty for me, since my lifestyle is largely uneventful. And there is usually some crossover of items between sizes, so I don’t necessarily need 25 pieces in every size within a 100-pound range. But it’s still a lot to store — daywear, pajamas, workout clothes, even jewelry — and it bothers me to have such a vast wardrobe of clothes that don’t fit. I truly want to be a minimalist like the people I see on Youtube, with tiny wardrobes, vegan diets, and tiny bodies. But I don’t know how realistic it is for me to assume my weight will never fluctuate again. And the environmental waste produced by my ever-changing wardrobe is something I desperately want to avoid.

Lately, though, there’s a little voice inside my head saying, “This time will be different…” or “I won’t regain the weight, so I don’t have to keep the bigger clothes.” I imagine selling my larger clothes on Ebay as I continue down the scale. And perhaps this really is the last time I have to go through this. My meds are more stable, and I feel more committed to a reasonable diet and exercise regime for the long haul. I lost 6 pounds last month according to my doctor, putting me 18 pounds below my highest weight of 224. I’ve continued to increase the intensity of my exercise, limit my calories, and do intermittent fasting (which at the very least keeps me from snacking at night). I still feel ”not myself” when I look in the mirror, but lately I’m a bit more hopeful that I’ll get there eventually. And I’m eager to wear those too-small clothes up there, not because losing weight is the answer to all my problems, but because I love those clothes. I carefully considered every purchase, searching tirelessly for just the right things, and spending more money than usual on quality pieces. So for now, my closet is full, but I am where I am.

Our Minimalist Kitchen

February 05, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Minimalism, Mental Illness

I went to therapy today and we discussed my previous session which my husband attended with me. My therapist commented on how helpful it was to see us together, and I was glad she could see how much fun we have, how we make each other laugh. She also remarked on what an asset it is for me to have that kind of support. I am truly lucky that Matt has stuck by me, no matter what, and that he continues to do so, no matter what. I could never repay everything he’s done for me, from helping me with my medications and doctors to simply comforting me in the worst days of my life.

I was having a rough time a little over a year ago, when we were in Germany for his work. My meds weren’t helping enough, and I spent every night sobbing in despair. It was during this time that Matt started rubbing my feet to help me calm down. He would massage my feet very deeply, using a wooden massage tool to get more leverage. I can’t explain exactly why this was so effective, but it relieved me of my great despair. I think the pleasant pain of the deep massage was intense enough to distract me from my emotional pain. So every night, in our tiny attic apartment, up in the sleeping loft with the sloped ceiling, Matt would rub my feet. Often for an hour or more he would do this, in between directing and designing an opera at the local opera house. Where he found the energy I will never know, but such is his love for me that he did. While life has dealt me a bad hand in terms of brain chemistry, I’ve been phenomenally lucky in love. I can’t remember how or why this ritual of foot massages started, but I can say it has been extremely helpful in the throes of my illness. I wholeheartedly recommend massage as a coping strategy for depression. While medication and therapy are the obvious treatments, I think there is something valuable in finding pleasure in the midst of so much pain.

In that tiny attic apartment, there was a tiny kitchen. We had a few plates and glasses which we supplemented with American-sized coffee mugs from the Euro shop. Every morning Matt would run out and buy croissants from the bakery on our street, and we’d eat them with blueberries and yogurt at our little table. For dinner we had no stove, so we would come up with creative ways to cook without one. We had an electric kettle, and so we made blanched vegetables, pasta, and couscous. We had a microwave, and could heat frozen chicken to go with it. It wasn’t much, but I loved that kitchen. It was truly a minimalist arrangement, and it somehow seemed less difficult to do dishes or prepare a meal. So when we got home, I tried to make over our kitchen into a more minimalist setting. I whittled down our dishes to just 4 plates, 2 bowls, 4 glasses, and 4 mugs. We have 4 saucers, and 2 large dishes for bigger meals. We have an electric kettle which we use with a set of metal nesting bowls with lids to blanche vegetables, make tofu or couscous. We got rid of our dish drying rack, which was always toppling over, and have a simple drainboard instead. You can only fit so many dishes on it, but we only have so many anyway. I sorted our silverware and cooking utensils, keeping all the essentials, but no more. Our dishes are on open shelves, and our few pots and pans hang on a pot rack. We make coffee “pourover” style, using the kettle and a plastic cone with paper filters. We of course have a stove, but the simple meals we invented are things I can manage on my own. I don’t get so overwhelmed that I can’t cook for myself. We usually dry all our dishes by hand and put everything away so it’s ready for our next meal. My husband actually enjoys cooking (I don’t), so of course he keeps some specialty items: a breadmaker, a crockpot, a small bin of gadgets. But they’re stored away so they’re not in our regular rotation. And there’s nothing without a purpose, no excess, and that has helped me manage my meals when he’s working (or when he’s not). I try to wash my dishes immediately with water when I can, leaving just a few things to scrub or soak. And just recently we gave up our cases of plastic water bottles for 2 metal reusable ones. We fill them from the tap, and so far it’s fine. We can’t figure out what’s worse- the tap water or the microplastics in bottled water- so we went for the simpler, cheaper choice and just hope for the best. Nothing’s perfect, but for me, simpler is definitely better.

Still In My Pajamas, and Exercise Update

February 02, 2019 by Kristin Purcell in Clothes, Mental Illness, Minimalism, Capsule Wardrobe

While mental conditions for me are gradually improving (I’ve just recently embarked upon some therapy with a Clinical Psychologist/PhD), much of my time is still spent in my pajamas. I thought I’d give a thorough inventory of my pajama capsule as it stands.

There are 8 tops in total: 4 identical “boyfriend tees” from Old Navy in faded blue, and 4 “relaxed fit” tanks, also from Old Navy — 2 white, 1 black, and 1 grey. All of these were chosen for their loose, comfortable fit, but also for the specific 100% slub cotton of which they are made. I’ve found that the slub cotton from Old Navy — it has a slight texture to the weave — wears especially well through wash after wash. Now, not all slub cotton is created equal. My Gap Factory T-shirts are clearly not of the same caliber. But these 8 Old Navy tops are holding up beautifully despite the frequent wear and washing. Maybe other people don’t need 8 pajama tops, but when you’ve been debilitatingly depressed for a stretch of time, your priorities tend to shift, wardrobe-wise.

For bottoms, I have two pairs of sweatpants and three pairs of shorts. One pair of pants is from Two by Vince Camuto; they are wide-leg and a lovely soft pink color. I’ve yet to find an answer to the question of whether or not these are maternity pants — please contact me if you know — but I love them either way. The other pants are drawstring, stretch-terry sweats from Andrea Jovine Woman. I’ve had them for ages and they’re a little ragged, but certainly doing the job. For shorts, I have 2 pairs of Old Navy cotton poplin sleep shorts with a ribbon drawstring waist. Both are crisp white with a print: one pink paisley and one blue geometric. The third pair of shorts is a real oldie but goodie — a men’s pair of XXL jersey pants that have been cut off into shorts. I’ve had them for quite some time — Russell Athletic is made to last — and I don’t see much wear at all aside from a bit of fading. Sometimes I layer a pair of pants over my shorts to hang around the house and then just wear the shorts to sleep in.

Three more items complete the capsule — 16 pieces in all? — a hoodie in black lightweight terry from Cable and Gauge, and a grey textured pullover hoodie from Lou and Grey by LOFT. Both are great for layering as loungewear, especially when you need to answer the door sans bra. And a pair of fleece slippers from Lands’ End.

Speaking of braless activities, my exercise routine has continued to improve and, more importantly, exist. I’m still wearing my pajama tops to the gym with a zip-up fleece over the top, and that little bit of time saved from putting a bra on has proved crucial to my continued progress.

Tagging along with my husband on his gym visits is working well, and I’ve actually increased my weights so it takes more effort to power through. Weight lifting in general has always seemed like a lazy activity compared to running — I mean, you’re sitting down much of the time. But upping the weight does get my heart pounding between sets. When at the gym, we do 3 or 4 machines, 3 sets each, alternating lats-biceps-back-legs or chest-triceps-legs depending on the day. More machines than that would probably be too many for my level of mojo, so we leave it at that and walk on the treadmill for a few minutes. We started out slow, at 2.5 with no incline for 7 minutes, and I’ve worked my way up to 3.0 at an incline of 4 for 10 minutes. On days we don’t go to the gym, I just walk on our treadmill at home, also at 3.0 with an incline of 4 for 20 minutes and call it a day.

The plan is to continue increasing the intensity of my workouts so slowly that I hardly notice a thing. For instance, next will be an incline of 5 or 6, and then maybe an increase of speed to 3.2, making a change each week until I’m walking uphill at a good clip. This is where it’ll get exciting for me: after walking at a steep incline for so long, I’ll start building in a little running on a flat plane. I’ve been agonizing over the idea of running, since it’s always been my go-to for weight loss, but it has felt impossible with my current mood and flagging fitness level. Hopefully, it’ll just work in seamlessly with this strategy (my husband says that after the incline, running flat is a breeze for him), and I’ll be back up to speed in no time. The major hurdle will be wrestling into a sports bra in order to do it.