Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of closing on our house. We moved almost everything in that afternoon because I was so excited. I developed insomnia and was still commuting to Ann Arbor for work and naturally the next day my doula client went into labor! This was such an exciting time but looking back I remember how hard it was. Sometimes when your dream comes true (home ownership, land, being a doula etc) its easy to have an identity crisis. I went from a very bohemian life in Ypsilanti to the vision I had for my adult self and I definitely did not feel like an adult yet. Perhaps it was because I am a millennial and my 20s needed to be milked for all they were worth.

The spring cleaning bug has bitten me and made me feel so relieved about how my morals have changed in the past five years. There’s so much less STUFF in our house. Clothes, art, shoes, decor, etc has all been slowly sifted out to create more open space. While I sit here on the other end of a dwindling inheritance and feel a lot of regret about my frivolous spending I do feel relieved so much went to good use. I gave lots of slow fashion brand clothes to friends who couldn’t afford them, gave fun art to thrift stores, re-gifted expensive toys, and most importantly realized how important it is to sleep on something before you buy it. Almost all of my purchases were made with the intention to do good in the world. Buy from a small, sustainable brand or support a local artist. However, nothing feels as good as saying no to spending money, saying no to clutter, saying no to reselling something valuable instead of giving it to a friend.

I feel relieved that I am no longer vulnerable to home renovation culture! It is expensive, unnecessary, soul crushing, and wasteful. It is sometimes necessary and sometimes legitimately does make the house a home but I wonder all the time about this being a socially acceptable shopping addiction? Instead of clothes it’s lumber and cabinets and trendy faucets. And of course every time a house changes ownership everything gets ripped out and thrown away all over again. I think my ultimate goal has been to avoid trends at all costs. Leave everything as simple and functional as possible. I think that is the joy of old farm houses, why they are so special, it’s because they’ve got everything you need. No one felt bored with how something looked and ordered a brand new living room set off Wayfair. Trends were not so overpowering (ie: needing to rip out super dark wood cabinets that feel like an evil presence or sticker tile peeling up from the bathroom floor or patterned wallpaper.) When this house was built we didn’t constantly have a stream of new things coming in and old things going out. I am so glad I resisted the urge to even paint most of the walls. While our sticker tile floor kitchen from 1994 is ugly and irritating, it has held up for thirty years and is a wonderfully unoffensive textured gray. I wish it hadn’t existed in the first place but I’m grateful such a simple, sensible style was chosen. Instead of renovating rooms I’m trying to just leave them be and let our family’s personal items fill the space with joy. I love the woodstove, the 51 year old thrift store embroidery wall art in the living room, the dried flowers from our garden, my grammy’s antique ice box, the combined family vinyl record collection, the quilts my great grandmother made, and the never ending river of toddler toys stretching from one end of the house to the other.

There will always be something about our home that bothers me, ie: why don’t we have a broom closet? Why do we have a wrap around porch that blocks so much light? Why are dogs so good at ruining couches? Why do we have so many windows in our entryway that we have no way to organize four humans worth of shoes, gloves, hats, recycling etc? But I can usually pacify these urges to start on an expensive project by just being grateful for all the stuff we didn’t have to work on. Our land is beautiful and perfect all on its own, so much of our furniture is passed down from family, this house has magically stood in this spot against all odds for 131 years, our neighbor whose late husband saved this home can look out her window and see all his hard work standing strong.

In comparison to the rest of history, it is now a great privilege to be a minimalist. I lost a lot of money paying for a failed home birth, then hospital birth, then constant medical bills for the health problems I’ve developed since growing a baby. My body’s needs change constantly and therefore I need a wide range of clothes. I will never have the social media worthy capsule wardrobe. Our couch is a futon from Wayfair because our dogs destroyed the ~aesthetic~ Pottery Barn sofa I spent my stimulus checks on. We are outdoors a lot and need to try and have some shoes and clothes that have never seen the inside of a chicken coop. We wear those for holidays usually. I can no longer afford slow fashion brand $200+ linen jumpsuits. I waffle between shame and pride shuffling about in my floral Crocs. (Shame: they are mass produced plastic trash and ugly as hell. Pride: I am caring for my joints and was able to let go of my crumbling Birkenstocks).

I think my greatest lesson has been: there is no freedom in consumption. Even if you are trying to make your home more eco friendly, support small businesses, even adjusting to a minimalist lifestyle (shocker there’s a big market for BUYING minimalist staples!) You are still vulnerable to the capitalist, American dream of spending money on items that do not feed you, shelter you, or help you learn about yourself. If I buy something now it is because I made the choice. When I considered myself an ethical consumer I often purchased out of guilt. Even if it is guilt for good, guilt means you are not in charge. I am coming up on year 2 of no social media, which I still consider going back to on a daily basis (that is a powerful hold!) Social media not only exposed me to influencers, brands, and products but also endless causes. I am grateful the internet can help people in need by raising awareness, gofundme, exposure of local artists etc but I am so glad that constant pressure to give money I don’t have is gone.

I will freely admit resisting the demands of “Evil Merritt” (the guilt ridden, environmental fascist who lives in my head) is not always successful. For example, I recently bought non toxic kitchenware because I was not sure what was in our cheap Target plates. But as they say it’s the journey, not the destination, man. This is not to speak from a moral high ground, this is to criticize consumer culture. “Ethical” consumption has not only harmed my wallet but also how my brain works. It’s really hard to make choices when you’re always worried about some tiny little way maybe something isn’t perfectly ethical. It’s also really hard to feel autonomy in my life when I feel pressure to make my house or closet or pantry perfect and buy a bunch of stuff that ends up being clutter or out of style.

I will not pretend that I’m not human and do not have a secret deep love of some stuff I have purchased so here’s a list of things that make my life nice:

I am so grateful for my phone that allows me to take amazing photos of my daughter, my laptop that allows me to do some serious researching, my collection of loose dresses that allow my joints and body to not feel constrained, sturdy reliable ugly brown hiking boots, patches to make my winter coat feel more fun, bumper stickers so my daughter and I can spot our car in a parking lot, wool slippers, bear claw earrings, classic straw broom, a used set of wooden toy blocks, woven baskets, my grammy’s blanket chest and amish cherry wood bed, our 1970s plaid couch from Matt’s family’s old cottage, our vintage thrift store owl lamp, overalls, houseplants, a printer, mason jars, really nice smelling peppermint soap, books, the blue gray paint in the upstairs bathroom, a tiny antique cast iron pan for cooking precisely two eggs, and my ugly stationary bike for time alone when I can throw on some Alice in Chains and pretend I am not 33 with a stiff knee but rocking out in a middle school friend’s basement.

We are lucky to have been lent a photo album of the original renovation process from the early 1990s. Unfortunately we do not seem to have a full photo of how our home looks now but I particularly enjoy this photo of Jadzia on our slope with her home glowing in the distance.