The Cost of "Just in Case"

A challenge to stop stuffing boxes and start living life.

I’ve been guilty of it myself.

Holding onto things “just in case”.

The dress hanging in the back of the closet with good intentions and tags still in place.

The thrift store find that was the deal of the century, so of course, that must stay.

The 17 pairs of jeans, all slightly different sizes, mark different times in my life and just might be needed again.

And a drawer full of random extra buttons still in little plastic bags, on the ready to replace a button that happens to fall off a sweater you might not even still own.

You know you have done it too.

We all do.

Because we might need it at some point… so we keep it “just in case”.

Photo by Kadarius Seegars on Unsplash

We stuff and fluff our nests with all sorts of things, surrounding ourselves and preparing for some future moment when keeping “the thing” will surely pay off.

And I understand why.

I did it myself, and at certain times in life, it was the right decision.

Having a stash of clothes to fit my growing body through pregnancies and in different seasons, and “back again” after each, just made sense. Stacks of clear plastic bins full of baby clothes were stored, just in case, for the potential growing family. Years later, multiple sizes of coats and boots that one child outgrew could be passed to the next, and were carefully labeled and stored under “winter stuff”. (This is where I learned the value of buying black boots and neutral-toned jackets, not pink, so those could be passed down to boys, too). And of course, one needed bins of miscellaneous electrical, plumbing, sporting equipment, and tools for all sorts of jobs around the house.

A garage full, a storage room full, and closets full, in unison, waiting for the moment to come for some future use.

I was the queen of the storage room full of bins and boxes that rotated throughout our busy lives. Everything seemed to be needed at some point, and honestly, it felt good to know you had pretty much everything you needed on the ready, including those extra buttons still in tiny bags kept in a well-meaning place.

You know the ones.

The “extra” buttons attached to the newly purchased garment that you felt compelled to keep… ya know, “just in case”.

I even had a backup jar of mismatched buttons, in case I misplaced the original “extra” one!

Don’t judge. You know you did, too.

Photo by Matthew Moloney on Unsplash

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We are moving apartments this week, here on the island of Madeira.

We arrived with one suitcase and one road bike each.

And wouldn’t you know it, I am currently standing in our apartment surrounded by more accumulated stuff over the year.

And now I am filling some rescued and repurposed cardboard boxes my husband liberated from the recycling bin to pack a few items to move to our new apartment.

What the heck?!

My digital nomad visa required a year-long rental agreement, and to maintain it, for now, we have to have a one-year lease each year until we can get a permanent residence card. While waiting for my husband’s card, we are signing another year-long lease and moving down the road and a bit closer to the ocean.

Our goal is to keep a “home base” for now as we find our sea legs in this new adventure of full-time travel and part-time work.

We also have lots of family and friends who have visited, and we bought some additional towels, pillows, and hiking gear, and are awaiting others who want to visit and see how we are living in this unconventional way on this beautiful autonomous island in Portugal.

So we need a few boxes…

How in the world did that happen?

I am asking myself as I open drawers and realize I have collected some things along the way this year.

Although we live in furnished apartments now, there are still things we needed in our current place when we signed the lease, like a desk for me to do my job, a few lamps, and, of course, new bedding, as our place didn’t have nice bedding, and a few candles to make it cozy.

A new skillet and some cookware I like having on hand…

You see where I am going here.

Even in places that are furnished, there are still things you need to get, and there is still the desire to make it feel more like “home”.

To surround yourself with things that make life easier or more enjoyable, or even necessary, as we are finding.

The interesting thing I am noticing, however, is that my attachment to things now is completely different, or rather, my detachment from them.

Now every item I buy is judged on whether it adds value to my life in the moment.

I ask, does this bring me joy today?

Is this a “yes” right now?

I don’t feel the need to get or keep anything that is not serving a purpose in my life right this very moment.

That is the subtle difference I feel with the things around me now.

Nothing seems so important now that I need to drag it around with me (except nice bedding!)

We will leave several things we purchased behind in the place we are leaving, and stuff a few things we really love in a few boxes to take with us… for now.

But if I had to leave it all behind in a moment, I wouldn’t flinch.

I have already done the hardest part by sorting through, donating, or giving away things I held onto for decades, so to do so now, after a few months’ use, is easy.

But I realized this week, while packing and moving, that this detachment from the things I was placing into boxes was due to an internal shift from “just in case” future thinking to present moment “this aligns with my life now” living.

The Buddha taught that attachment is the root of suffering, and I’m beginning to understand what that really means.

It’s not just attachment to people or ideas, but to these physical things we convince ourselves we might need someday.

The Stoic philosopher Seneca wrote that “it is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor.”

When we live for a future that hasn’t arrived, we miss the richness of right now.

Even modern minimalists and decluttering experts echo this ancient wisdom.

Marie Kondo asks us to keep only what sparks joy in this moment. Joshua Becker of The Minimalist reminds us that the things we own end up owning us, consuming our time, energy, and mental space. Eckhart Tolle teaches that the present moment is all we ever truly have - the past is memory, the future is imagination, but now is where life actually happens.

Nothing is guaranteed in life, I know, and living day to day, moment to moment, is how we squeeze the best out of life if we can stay in this mentality.

At least, that’s what I am trying to do, and this kind of lifestyle is lending itself to staying a bit more focused on present-moment awareness.

I write about discovering “waterfalls and wellness in body, mind, and spirit” as a descriptor of this nomadic journey we are on and living life differently than most imagine at this midlife point. I am finding this kind of detachment from stuff is enhancing my physical and mental health in ways I had not anticipated, which I am going to be writing more about.

Ancient teachings reveal this “mystery” as one of the keys to health and longevity. Without the weight of futuristic thinking, lots of life’s anxieties also vanish. The Tao Te Ching tells us that “When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.”

When our hands are full, gripping tightly to what we already possess, how can we receive anything new? How can we catch the unexpected gifts life wants to hand us?

We stuff our lives into boxes when in reality, life is limitless.

Boxes, bins, and containers full of “just in case” items.

But what if we dare to let go and trust that what we need will find its way to us.

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I know it can be hard to declutter and get rid of things, but…

Here’s my challenge to you: this week, go into your storage room, your garage, that closet you avoid opening. Pick one box, one bin, one drawer. Sort through it with honest eyes. Ask yourself, am I holding onto the past, or preparing for a future that may never come? Am I so busy protecting what I have that I’ve closed myself off to what’s trying to find me?

Try this: for each item, hold it and ask, “Does this serve my life right now, in this present moment?” Not “might I need this someday,” or “but I spent good money on this,” or “maybe when I lose ten pounds.” Right now. Today.

Could you let go of what no longer serves you? Donate it, gift it, release it back into the world where it might bring someone else joy. Notice how it feels to create space - physical space in your home, yes, but also space in your heart and mind.

Because here’s the truth I’m learning on this island, living out of one suitcase and now a few boxes of odds and ends: when you open your hands and let go, you also make space to receive.

New experiences.

New adventures.

New versions of yourself you didn’t even know were waiting.

The life you’re meant to live might be buried under those boxes.

What would happen if you set it free?

P.S. As always, thanks for sharing space with me. I would love to hear your comments!

XO,