Four years ago my husband and I moved from a 400 square foot studio apartment to a 1200 square foot condo. The reason for the move was three-fold: one, to enter the glorious world of home ownership; two, to be closer to work thus reducing commute time; three, to have enough room for all of our possessions. I dreamed about “having a place for everything and everything having a place”. One year after our move we still had unpacked boxes. The presence of unpacked boxes wasn’t surprising because I have been a pack rat from my youth. A peach flavored Jolly Rancher from a grade school activity remained in my dresser drawer until graduation from high school; as did a little drawstring bag with a felt carousel horse on one side from the dentist and a silver colored half-heart “best friends forever” necklace. The Jolly Rancher, drawstring bag, and silver necklace are only a small sampling of the possessions I weeded out during the transitional time of high school graduation and moving out to attend college. In fact, each time I moved (12 times between high school graduation and the last move four years ago) I would weed through my possessions throwing some things out but never enough that I did not have boxes of “storage”—and certainly never enough to compensate for the things collected between two weeding sessions. Hence one year after the most recent move we still had boxes. Their presence was simply a manifestation of a continuation of a lifetime practiced behavior.
At about the same time as I noticed that we still had boxes I also noticed that I was gaining weight. The box problem was a constant throughout my life, but weight? I had always been relatively active and fit. I was a ballerina, I ran cross-country, I worked in a produce department, I practiced Kung Fu, I worked as a janitor, I walked to and from class, I took a swimming class—I was used to being in shape and not having to consciously make plans to exercise. Graduation from high school had curtailed my activity level and graduation from college and entry into “the real world” had stopped it completely.
Now I had two problems: unpacked boxes and an unfit body. I didn’t know it at the time, but the two problems were linked and beginning to resolve one would put me on the road to resolving the other and strengthening one area would exponentially increase my ability to strengthen the other area and visa-versa. The best estimate I can make about when change began to happen was when I attended a class by Connie Sokol. After listening to Connie’s advice on self-improvement and fitness I left her class with two golden nuggets of wisdom: one, acquire a really cute, comfortable workout outfit and two, start exercising. According to Connie if I had an outfit that I liked wearing I was more likely to exercise and it didn’t matter how long or what the exercise was as long as I was doing something—even 10 minutes, was better than nothing. I had my doubts that spending money was actually going to help, it was counter intuitive and went against my usual frugal approach to life and money. However, I decided that Connie's approach was worth a shot; there was little monetary investment on my part and following her advice could not decrease my level of exercise because it was already nonexistent. I committed to following Connie’s advice.
I was very excited about the first golden nugget. Even though I had participated in various activities through the years, I never had complete control over my workout attire. I took myself to Target with a budget and picked out a pair of capri yoga pants that complemented my body and went well with the brightly colored T-shirts I already had at home. My total expenditure at Target was around $25.00 which seems like such a small sum now compared to where that investment has led. I checked off the first goal and moved to the second: begin exercising. What was I going to do? I knew myself well enough to know that I do not exercises well on my own, I need a group or a coach to help motivate me.
Even though we had lived in the area for a year I did not know many people, but I did know one person in the neighborhood who had a strong pulse on the neighborhood going-ons. I emailed her and asked if she knew of any running groups in the neighborhood. She did. She and another lady did walking/running intervals three times a week and their regular schedule worked with my schedule. Shazam! I was in business. I had a cute outfit and a way to exercise regularly. I talked to another friend and she loaned me some 10 Minute Solution dvd’s to use on the days I did not run intervals.
Back to the boxes. On a run with my two friends, one of them mentioned a book by Peter Walsh titled It’s All Too Much: An Easy Plan for Living a Richer Life with Less Stuff. I borrowed her copy and after the first page I ordered my own copy. To this day I have yet to read past the first chapter, but Walsh’s words still run through my head. In the first few pages of his book Walsh talks about how people usually organize: purchasing plastic bins, filling them with stuff, and neatly stacking them in the garage or basement. He says that all people are really doing is moving their stuff. Notice that he uses the word “stuff,” not possessions or belongings. His words clicked with me. All I had was just stuff and I knew that because I couldn’t even tell you what was in all those boxes. Each time I opened a box I was reminded of a thing that I had long forgotten existed. Say that, “Stuff”. What do you feel? Generic non-attachment is the best description I can articulate. It was time to get rid of the stuff. I named my campaign “No Box Left Behind” and set to work unpacking all the physical boxes in our condo as well as the figuritive box of my personal health. This blog is a record of my campaign, what I’ve done, what I’m doing, and how the campaign is morphing, reaching into other areas of my life.
