You Can Be You Anywhere, No Matter What They Tell You
Your values don’t have to be tied to a place — you keep them alive wherever you go.
Hi, Medium, it’s been a minute. This time last year I was writing about finding minimalism and the benefits it was bringing to my life. I had discovered the concept of minimalism during the pandemic. I used a lot of my free time not spent commuting to work for a year on pairing down my belongings, asking myself if the things I had brought me joy, etc. I got rid of a ton of items I didn’t need and I felt better for it. I was lighter, and more in tune with what mattered to me — less focus on material things, more time spent with myself and friends, a deeper appreciation for the planet and doing things to help save it. But a change of scenery quickly put my new values on the back burner.
When I discovered minimalism, I was living in Seattle, Washington. A perfect place to embrace something different — surrounded by hipsters and environmatalists and “bleeding liberals,” deciding to be a vegan minimalist who tries to do things with the health of the planet in mind didn’t seem so strange. In fact, people encouraged it. I was amongst people who thought like me, and that made it easy to stay the course. But, in September, 2021, I got a call from an old friend and mentor who had a great job opportunity for me — the only thing was, it was literally across the country. Fast forward through a few weeks of job interviews and planning, and I decided to take the job in Norfolk, Virginia. I packed only what would fit in my Hyundai Sonata, including my dog and two cats, and my partner and I drove across the country to start our new life in the southeast.
When I arrived in Virginia with nothing but my clothes, books, a few plates and cups, utensils, and some bath towels, I thought: “This is perfect. If I wasn’t minimalist enough before, I’m definitely minimalist now!” I was excited about not having a ton of belongings and truly “starting from scratch.” But after my partner went back to Seattle to finish school (yes, we are still together and they are moving to Virginia this summer), I started to grow lonely in my mostly empty apartment. I had purchased the necessities, a bed, a small couch, a table and chairs, a toaster and a coffee pot, but then I turned toward excess. I quickly felt the feeling creep in that I needed to “fill my apartment.” I suddenly didn’t have any clothes that would work for my new job, and I needed more seating options in the apartment, even though I didn’t know anyone and wasn’t planning to have anyone over, and I couldn’t possibly think about finding vegan options in Virginia — did that even exist here?
I was stressed from my new job, and in a matter of weeks, my previous values went out the window. I spent hundreds of dollars buying new clothes from cheap stores like Ross, which are already damaged and worn out six months later. I spent more money on an extra sofa, which I never sit on, but I think my cats appreciate it. I started eating meat and sweets to excess, I stopped exercising, and I started drinking more than I used to. I did all this while telling myself: “You live in Virginia, there’s nothing else to do except eat, drink, and shop, so you outta just do that now.”
But six months after moving to the beautiful Coastal Virginia, I’m starting to wake up from my stress-induced backslide.
I live in the Ghent neighborhood of Norfolk. I think it’s the closet thing to Seattle in Virginia. It’s walkable, the main strip is peppered with shops featuring work by local artists, and there’s a coffee shop on every block. A few weeks ago, my partner visited me and we were walking around my new neighborhood and came across a queer feminist bookstore, conveniently attached to one of the best coffee shops I’ve discovered here. We engaged in wonderful conversation with the bookstore owner about the dangers of capitalism, the importance of feminism, and urgency to heal the planet. Around the corner from her, we found Less Than, a zero waste refill store. You know, the kind where you bring in your glass bottles and can fill them up with laundry detergent, or whatever else you need, to limit your use of plastics. Both my partner and I were pleasantly surprised to find something so progressive in Norfolk, a place we painted as a conservative, capitalist swamp.
Since that day, I’ve realized it doesn’t matter where I live — my values don’t have to be tied to a place. Is it easier to be minimalist, vegan and care about the environment in a state that supports that messaging on a daily basis? Maybe. But that doesn’t mean my values aren’t sustainable in other places, or that I can’t find people who care about the same things as I do all over the world. Humans are social creatures, and we like to have our ideas and decisions supported by our friends or a group of people, and I’m learning I can find my people anywhere, if I just give myself time to look and don’t assume they don’t exist.
I’ve been storing up glass bottles, with the plan to go to the re-fill store once I run out of my current household cleaning products. I’ve found three vegan restaurants in Norfolk that are all delicious. In terms of my wardrobe, I’ve returned to only purchasing items from sustainable companies who have a proven track record of reducing harm to the planet — screw fast fashion. I walk as often as I can, versus driving my car, and I’ve stopped overbuying or eating out too often. I’ve returned to yoga class and meditation. I’ve also returned to reading more versus watching endless television, and of course, writing, too.
It feels good to return to what matters.
