How to Get Rid of Your Stuff When You’re Dying
I’ve always been a bad minimalist
As I get more serious about my end of life, I look around and realize just how much stuff I own. If I ever published my personal essays, I would totally copycat my title from Roxane Gay: Bad Minimalist.
I am intrigued by minimalism and try to incorporate some of it into my daily life. I love watching Anthony Ongaro on YouTube. I’m not a rabid consumer. I avoid malls. I don’t shop online. I deliberately and conscientiously stopped conspicuous consumption years ago. But…
I do not listen to Joshua Becker. I am not a Marie Kondo acolyte testing every item in my house to see if it sparks joy. I found The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning annoying; I could not get past the tedious, cutesy, preachy tone of the book.
And I have a lot of stuff.
A. Lot. Of. Stuff.
I’m a bad minimalist, and I know it.
Questions bombard me when I look around our house. Why do I have so much stuff? Where did it all come from? What does it mean to me? And, most important of all, what is going to happen to all this stuff when I die?
Because, let’s face it: Dying is the ultimate minimalist experience.
