Rachel is a Jewish bisexual autistic woman (she/her) with ADHD in her twenties. She loves writing and can always be found with her nose in a book! Her plan for the future is to earn her Psy. D. in clinical psychology. This interested in psychology started as a way to help her understand people better and to figure out what it was about others I kept not getting. It is also something deeply linked with her self-advocacy. There is a gap in communication between the autistic community and providers, and she want to help bridge it and challenge others to see things from different perspectives.
View all postsWhen You Just Have Too Much Stuff
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Moving to Pittsburgh has been an entire journey of new experiences, some of which I never expected. Even when maybe I should have.
I thought I was at least familiar with what it was like to set myself up in a brand-new place. I’ve done it plenty of times before. Whether it was moving to a new dorm room every year in undergrad or staying somewhere an ocean away, I’ve certainly had more than enough experience moving in and out of different places. However, I’ve only realized now that there’s one major blind spot in all of this; I wasn’t taking most of my stuff with me.
When going to Temple, even if I was living on campus, home was never more than an hour away by train. I went home most weekends. So, a lot of my stuff wasn’t moved into the dorm. I’d need things to use when I went back home, after all. Plus, this meant it was easy enough to shuffle stuff back and forth between the dorms and home. If I didn’t need something, like a heavy winter coat in spring, it didn’t need to stick around and take up space.
Whenever I went overseas, there was a limit to how much I could take with me. Basically, whatever I could pack in a suitcase or two would have to be it. There was also the knowledge that my stay was only ever temporary, usually for half a year or less. The things I left behind, I knew I’d be coming back to soon enough.
In fact, usually I’d have to buy plenty of stuff for everyday living once I was settled. I’d give away the bulk of it once it came time to leave. I could never hope to take it all back with me, but inevitably, there was still plenty of stuff that made the journey home. The house had plenty of space, so it wasn’t like more stuff was much of a concern for me.
Sure, I did the occasional closet clean-out. When the KonMari method was all the rage, I gave it a go. I did what I could to keep the sheer amount of stuff I owned manageable, but the need to downsize was never truly urgent. I just knew it was what I should do. Maybe my closet got worryingly packed sometimes (maybe it’s still worryingly packed), but I wasn’t truly concerned about simply having no space at all.
I knew when I moved to Pittsburgh that I couldn’t take all my stuff with me. It was a miracle alone that I managed to pack up everything I wanted to take. It took not only a rented van but a friend’s car to fit it all, and it was still a close call that sent me into a panic a few times on moving day. In hindsight, that was probably a warning sign.
I should have known that getting it all down to Pittsburgh was only half the battle.
Even once I had everything piled into my apartment, I didn’t truly appreciate how much stuff I had at first. It’s a given that on move-in day, the floor of your new place will be littered with boxes and boxes of stuff. And probably for many days after.
The next step was clear. I went furniture shopping, my parents still along to help. We tried to make sure everything had drawers and shelves, knowing I’d need the storage space. Still, putting everything away immediately felt daunting. After going to my first grocery shop, I quickly realized I didn’t even know where to put my food! My cabinets seemed full enough with all the cooking and baking supplies I’d brought along. For a distressing amount of time after my move-in, those groceries lived on the floor. I was glad my parents had left by then, as I wouldn’t have wanted them to see how long the floor remained overcrowded with unpacked Giant Eagle supermarket shopping bags.
Even worse were the bags upon bags of clothes still piled up on the floor too. It soon became clear the furniture we’d bought wouldn’t hold it all. And this was maybe half of my actual wardrobe! The only place to hang anything in my apartment was a wire shelf in the laundry area that soon proved too flimsy to hold more than a couple of coats. I despaired. Even when I bought a heavy-duty, two-tiered clothing rack off Amazon (the stylish but flimsy ones from Ikea would never be up to the task), I still feared it wouldn’t be enough. That rack has since become one of my favorite pieces of furniture for just how much I was able to hang on it. Getting the rest of my wardrobe on there was a close call, though. I may still have some stray pieces of clothing sneaking around my apartment even now.
I certainly can’t justify buying any more clothes, which was kind of a shock for me. I knew I’d need to tighten up my budget at grad school, but buying a piece of clothing here and there was something I’d never been able to resist. Yet now I was confronted with the undeniable proof that I simply had too much! Enough space in my apartment was already dedicated to holding all my clothes. I would be a fool to try to justify more. It’s still been a hard pill to swallow, realizing both how much I have and that I’m still not fully satisfied with it. Not buying things because I literally have no more room for them has forced me to confront how often I have that impulse to buy. I knew it was a minor bad habit of mine, seeking the dopamine rush of a purchase, but I still feel disappointed in myself.
Things are better now, though not perfect. I still haven’t unpacked most of my cross-stitch supplies (grad school not leaving me with much time for crafting hasn’t helped). There is still a small pile of stuff I don’t know what to do with, unsuccessfully hiding under the ladder to my loft. A reminder that my apartment is bursting at the seams, that any pretense of neatness could be shattered with the introduction of anything extra to clutter up this fragile ecosystem. How easily things could go from manageable to a mess on every surface.
It’s been humbling, in a way. Realizing for the first time that I not only have more stuff than I need, but that I have more stuff than could ever reasonably fit into a studio apartment. One that could never be called cramped by any means (the mention of a loft probably clued you
into that). As someone who wouldn’t like to think of myself as mindlessly consumerist, it’s rough to face that music.
Overconsumption is a struggle I’ve heard is common to neurodivergent people, at least anecdotally. For ADHD, it’s about seeking new stimulation in the form of new stuff. For autism, it can be about fueling a drive to collect things related to your special interest (as someone with a special interest in button pins, I know this too well). When society at large is pushing you to consume, when such behavior is so often normalized, it can be hard not to get swept up in the shopping rush. With online shopping, it’s easier than it’s ever been.
But that’s why it can be good to get a reality check, forced to confront your own insatiable drive for the next purchase. To find a reason to pause and consider if you really need to buy that. Sometimes you still do. But, maybe, sometimes you’ll realize that shiny new product one click away is something you can live without.