Post 5: Forced Minimalism
When I first came to USC the August of my freshman year, I checked six suitcases full of, at this point, who knows what. When I left USC two weeks ago, I only had one carry-on suitcase and a small duffle. It might seem like I embarked on some fantastic journey into minimalism, however, this downsizing was not by choice.
After moving out of my apartment near campus in the beginning of July, I had about four days until I was able to move into my new apartment in Arizona. One of my friends had just moved out of her house on 29th street, and she was kind enough to let me stay there while I was in between places. I was a little bit worried about leaving my car parked on the street for the long weekend with all of my stuff in it, especially after I’ve had several friends have their cars broken into near campus, so I stored all of my suitcases and boxes in the extra garage at the house. I thought everything would be fine — there was only one garage opener, and it was inside the house! Several of the other girls had stored their items in there while moving or packing, so when I locked the door, I thought my stuff would be safe.
Or so I thought. That is, until I went back to the garage to start packing up the day before I was supposed to leave to move into my new place, and I saw some of my stuff strewn about, in and near the dumpster. At first, I didn’t completely register what had happened — I thought maybe one of the other girls in the house who was also storing stuff in the garage had to move my bag, or some other innocent explanation. Until I saw my passport sitting on top of a pile. Sure, I was happy to see my passport, but I had a sinking feeling when I realized that in order for my passport to be loose on top of my bag, that meant that someone had gone through my stuff, and not just a friend moving it out of the way. My passport was inside a box that also contained pretty much every other important thing I have as a 22 year old — my social security card, my vaccine card, all of my bank account information, a book with all of my passwords, my emergency cash stash, and some other important documents. And all of that stuff was gone. Someone had gone to the bottom of my luggage, sorted through all of those items, and left behind only my passport.
The panic only increased as I realized that I had no idea where to even start in order to protect my identity and other sensitive information that had been stolen. However, that was something I could Google and figure out online (although I am honestly still trying to figure it out). The even more challenging thing was taking inventory of all of the other stuff that had been taken … including the majority of my wardrobe besides the carry-on of stuff I had kept inside the bedroom I was staying in. When handed the police report and asked to fill in more information about the stolen items, I didn’t even know where to start. I felt so overwhelmed knowing that someone had been able to steal so much of my stuff without leaving behind any marks of forced entry at the garage.
You see, the main reason that I was so upset about losing my belongings (besides the important documents and money, obviously) was because I had spent the last month cutting down on my clothes, household items, and even my dog’s stuff. I spent at least 2 full days, either with one of my friends or my boyfriend, going through every item in my wardrobe to cut back on all of the clothes I never wore, didn’t like, or didn’t need. This all started in June when I realized that I was soon going to have to move out of the apartment I had lived in for the last two years. Since I had a two bedroom apartment to myself for most of that time because of the pandemic, I really became a bit of a hoarder — I had so much space, so I never felt like I had to cut down or say no. Especially because I stayed in LA when many of my friends moved out of their apartments in LA in a hurry because of the pandemic, I took in anything they weren’t able to bring with them. A dress that didn’t really fit me but still had the tags on? Great! A chair and ottoman? Some decor? Perfect.
I had come to realize, especially during COVID, that I only really liked about 1/4th of my wardrobe; the remaining majority consisted of clothes that were reserved for special occasions, what-if scenarios, and stuff I just never parted with.
As I sorted through items, I realized that there were jeans I bought in middle school (that hadn’t really fit since), dresses my mom bought for me that brought across the country on more than one of my moves but had no plans of ever wearing, and costume pieces I had bought for a theme party freshman year and would never put on again.
So, I either donated or sold all of my clothes besides what I truly loved and wore frequently enough to bring to my new home. Unfortunately, that was what was stolen. After spending so much time trying to cut back and be more minimalist / practical, the universe vetoed my choices and said, nope, start fresh!
Clothes can be replaced, social security numbers can be guarded, and cash can be made back, as shitty as it feels when these things are stolen from you. I hope this never happens to anyone else, but also, it taught me that maybe I should have worked on becoming a minimalist a little bit sooner.
