The Vacation Packing Lesson That Changed How I Think About Downsizing

My husband and I recently returned from a week-long vacation on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. I packed like I was going to be gone for a month.

Several outfit changes. Four pairs of shoes. A dress in case we decided to go somewhere fancy.

And I came home with half of it still clean and unused.

It made me realize how often we convince ourselves that we need more than we actually do.

Every morning, we took a walk on the beach, and every morning I reached for the same pair of shorts and the same tank top. Four mornings in a row.

Why?

Because I was comfortable.

I wasn't worried about who might see me wearing the same outfit again. I'm probably never going to see any of those people again in my life, so who exactly was I trying to impress?

As the week went on, I kept choosing the clothes that felt the most like me. These days, I don't wear many dresses. I like the idea of dressing up, putting on cute shoes, and heading out on the town. But the reality is that I'm much more laid-back than I used to be.

Given the choice, I'll pick pajamas over fancy clothes almost every time.

As we get older, I think many of us become more comfortable making choices based on what makes us happy rather than what might impress other people. We care a little less about outside opinions and a little more about our own comfort and peace of mind.

And yet, we often continue holding onto our stuff as if it will somehow make us happier.

Visit almost any estate sale and you'll see what I mean.

The twelve-place setting of Christmas dishes.

The cabinet full of crystal glasses.

The closets packed with clothes that haven't been worn in years because they were never favorites to begin with.

We keep things "just in case" we'll need them someday, while forgetting that we're not the same people we were twenty or thirty years ago.

We hold onto items tied to old versions of ourselves, old routines, and old expectations. We convince ourselves that we still need them, even though we haven't used them in ages.

Then, somewhere down the road, those items often end up at an estate sale, a thrift store, or a donation bin.

When my husband and I moved from Florida to Tennessee, we got rid of a lot of our stuff. What's funny is that we had already moved twice in the previous six years, yet somehow we still managed to accumulate more.

The repeated moves taught us something valuable: most things aren't nearly as important as we think they are.

Of course, we kept sentimental items and meaningful keepsakes, but everything we owned fit into one POD and a small U-Haul trailer.

All that moving actually prepared us for the home we live in today.

Our house has small closets in each bedroom, and that's about it for storage. No pantry. No linen closet. No massive attic.

And yet, I still have more than I really need.

Now, when I consider buying a new piece of clothing, I think carefully about whether it's something I'll actually wear and enjoy. Space is limited, so I've adopted a simple rule:

If one thing comes in, two things have to go out.

It's not a perfect system, but it helps keep the clutter from quietly creeping back in.

As we were checking out of the hotel and I was dragging a massive suitcase filled with unworn clothes, I made a decision.

On my next vacation, I'm only packing for the person I am today—not the person I used to be, or the person I imagine I might become for a week.

Ironically, I did buy one linen shirt while we were there, and I'm pretty sure it's going to become one of my new favorites. You know how hot and humid summers can get in East Tennessee.

Which means two things have to go.

I haven't decided what they are yet, but I'm sure I'll find something.

After all, I probably have more than I need.