Living Little

I am the downsizing queen!

I live in a small New Mexico town in a small park model home….slightly larger than an official ‘tiny home.’ It is just under 400 square feet. It has a galley kitchen, a living room that has my desk, a bedroom and bathroom. With lots of windows with views of the mountains, high ceilings and a back deck it feels larger than it is.

I expect this perspective comes from a few additional realities. I am an avid gardener and have turned the small lot into a space with 3 distinct rooms. I putter in the yard daily. I also own a horse, who is boarded nearby, and I spend a lot of time outdoors at the barn.

My path to ‘little living’ has not been straight. I spent my married life on a farm in eastern Washington living in a 2-story old farmhouse on plenty of acreage with a huge garden. After that I was in a series of 3 medium-sized houses before landing in Newport, Oregon. There I downsized a lot to fit into a duplex. Then I did a u-turn and bought an enormous house sitting on a bluff looking out on the ocean. This decision turned out to be an expensive mistake…not just financially but emotionally. It was a beautiful 100 yr old house built to withstand high winds, torrential rain and general coastal bluster. It was huge. It was to be a welcoming vacation spot for my kids and grandkids which was my plan and reason for buying. I fully furnished it…remodeling where necessary and created the greatest getaway for all. However, they rarely came and I was crushed.

When I grew up any spare time and most all my vacations were spent in New England honoring my gram…the matriarch of the family. My dad and his sisters came bringing their families and I have amazing memories of these gatherings. Family was our primary value. I thought I had raised my children with this value and did not realize how steeped my assumption was in my expectations for the Oregon Coast house and more generally for my retirement and plans for aging.

And they did not come. Times change. Values change. I had not.

All of this coincided with my emotional exhaustion and collapse after 16 years of hospice work and the deaths of 5 very important people in my life in the space of a year. I generally have faith that things happen for a reason which we may or may not realize at the time or ever. I was totally wrecked and experienced a severe acute stress response. When the panic attacks morphed into flashbacks, hyper-vigilance and a slew of other symptoms I was diagnosed with PTSD….too much exposure to death and dying, family illness and a traumatic divorce. I felt raw…like I had no skin.

Turns out the house at the coast, where I roamed in a terrific amount of confusion and loneliness, was more about being near the healing energy of the ocean than my expectations of being honored as ‘gram’. Being an empath I am very sensitive to the environments in which I live. Eventually the rain and fog became predominant and clearly was not supporting my health recovery. The house was like rubbing my face in broken dreams. It took enormous amounts of resources to maintain… time, energy and dollars. Like so often happens to me…phoenix rising from the ashes…I realized change was in order. I put stuff in storage, sold the house, and took my horse to Wickenburg, Arizona for the winter, where I lived in a rented RV. I soaked up the sun and rode into the desert each day considering how to manage the changing reality of my aging.

I decided that I still wanted to be a vital part of my grandkiddos’ lives so moved to Parker, Colorado. Here I lived in 2 apartments over 6 years. ‘Stuff’ was taken out of Oregon storage and downsized considerably. In retrospect I realize this was but one last ditch effort to be the ‘honored one’. All was fine when they were little… perhaps because I was of assistance. But all good things come to an end. Their lives became busy and my involvement was secondary. I was still creating my life based on a faulty expectation leftover from my growing up. I was deeply hurt. I decided eventually that it was time to live my own life which I found was much easier said than done. It was not a graceful time for me.

I bought a casita rv- ridding myself of much stuff and set out for New Mexico in 2 trips as the horse moved too. The world shrinks when you live in ‘really tiny’ for 10 months. It was 16 feet long, stem to stern, with a 6 ft walkway. It was not good for my mental health - the preservation of which had become my primary goal and life practice. Then the opportunity to move into my present park model arose. It felt incredibly expansive after the casita.

I think I am done moving. I can see myself dying here. This is something hospice people consider. This feels like true home…’querencia’. The desert suits me … it is primitive…simple in a good way. I have balance in indoor/outdoor living and am connecting to my community. I feel like I am truly independent of false assumptions and expectations. I still struggle with PTSD and have to be uber careful of stress as I just don’t process it the way most folks do. ‘Living little’ means my time, dollars and energy go primarily to my hobbies…activities that bring me joy. If I am balanced in horse time, garden, art, friendships and sleep I am fairly healthy. My family connections are rich now and without expectation. As for ‘stuff’…for anything to reside in my home it must be utilitarian, beautiful to me or of ancestral heritage. The rule is …. if something comes into the tiny house something must go out. I long ago realized there is no need for multiples of anything. For example, I own 2 serving pieces of the family silver . You never know when you may need a bone marrow spoon! I have gifted A large amount of my stuff to my kids first and goodwill second. Books were the hardest to part with though I still have a small cabinet’s worth. I clean my house in about 15 minutes …deep clean in an hour. Then I write and play.

Living little is just right for me.