What I Learned From Getting Rid of 99% of My Stuff: Eagranie Yuh (Transcript)

Here is the full transcript of Eagranie Yuh’s talk titled “What I Learned From Getting Rid of 99% of My Stuff” at TEDxHobart 2024 conference.

Listen to the audio version here:

TRANSCRIPT:

The One-Suitcase Adventure

Imagine you’re going on the adventure of a lifetime, your dream home, your dream destination. There’s just one catch. This is a permanent, one-way move, and you can only bring one suitcase. Everything else you must leave behind.

How do you feel about that? Liberated, like you can’t wait for a fresh start? Anxious and slightly nervous about the prospect of putting your entire life into one suitcase? I’m here to tell you my experience of doing just that, and what I learned when I got rid of 99% of my stuff.

A Life of Storytelling

My name is Eagranie, and for most of my life, I’ve been telling stories for a living. I do this today as a marketer, a writer, and a podcaster. Before that, I was a journalist and a chocolate expert. That is a real thing.

Before that, I was a pastry chef, a chemist, a piano teacher. Navigating these shifts in my career have required me to navigate shifts in my identity, not just at work, at home as well. We all do this. Our identities are shifting all the time, and we have to be able to let go of the old ones to make space for the new ones.

The Connection Between Psychological and Physical Stuff

Easier said than done. And what I’ve learned is that our psychological stuff is connected to our physical stuff. And sometimes when we’re feeling psychologically stuck, it’s because our physical possessions are holding us back. I learned this when I moved halfway across the world with one suitcase.

Nearly two years ago, my family and I moved from Vancouver, Canada, to Hobart, Tasmania, Tassie, as we like to call it. And we each got one suitcase. Hearing this, you might wonder, what do you bring? Very little.

The Magic of Letting Go

And I suggest we might flip the question around and ask, what do you leave behind? Pretty much everything. And that is where the magic happens. Because when you choose what to let go of, you get the clarity to see what you actually need to move forward.

Today, I want to tell you what I saw when I got rid of 99% of my stuff. When I told people I was giving this talk, I was surprised how many people said they still had their university textbooks. I sold mine a long time ago, but I still had a story to work out.

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The Journalist’s Story

I mentioned earlier I used to be a journalist. I was for about 10 years, and it was a season in my life. But by the time we were planning the move, I hadn’t published anything in over a year, and I had no plans to.

You know how after a breakup, a friend will come to you and say, “I am totally over my ex.” And you will take one look at your friend and know they are totally not over their ex. That was me and journalism. We had broken up. I had not moved on.

The Struggle with Stuff

I was holding on to stuff that was keeping me stuck in that identity. Let me be clear. When I say stuff, I mean paper. Other people might struggle with sporting equipment, shoes, vintage issues of National Geographic magazine. I struggle with paper.

Getting started is always the hardest part, and that is why it took me three months to recycle a bunch of paper. I started in January 2021 with box number one. Box number one was full of notes from conferences I had attended.

The Talismans of Belonging

I have worked from home since the late 2000s. Maybe if I had a real job in a real office, I wouldn’t love conferences as much as I do. They are where I found my people and where I made friends.

Looking back, I kept those conference notes because they made me feel like I belonged. You might have a hoodie from university, a bib from the first marathon you ran. To other people, it’s just stuff. To you, it’s a talisman that says you belong.

The Process of Letting Go

I took box number one, and I threw it in the recycling bin. In February 2021, I tackled box two. Box two was full of event programs from things I had spoken at.

Looking back, I kept them because they made me feel credible. You might have a letter of recommendation or a business card from a long-past employer. To other people, it’s just stuff. To you, it’s a talisman that says you’re credible.

The Journey of Growth

I took box number two, and I threw it in the recycling bin. In March 2021, I dealt with a shelf of paper. I was a print journalist, so every time I wrote a story, I had a magazine or a newspaper to show for it, and I would just add it to the shelf.

That day in March, I pulled down the very first story I’d ever published. From 2009, 500 words about hot chocolate. I remember the version of me who wrote it. I felt terrified to contact the editor, horrified that she said yes, and nauseous the entire time I wrote it, sure that I was going to reveal myself as a complete and utter fraud.

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The Thrill of Achievement

I also remember the prickle of electricity that went up and down my sternum the first time I saw it in print. I remember thinking, “I want to do that again.” And I did. I had all this paper to show for it.

Looking back, I kept all that paper because it showed me how much I’d grown. Maybe this is why people keep their university textbooks. To other people, it’s just stuff. To you, it’s a talisman that shows you how far you’ve come.

The Catharsis of Letting Go

By this point in the process, I had started to slough off some of this identity.

Box number one made me feel like I belonged, but I’d thrown it in the recycling bin and I still felt that way. Box number two made me feel credible, but I had thrown it in the recycling bin and I still felt that way.

So this day in March, I was able to look at this shelf of paper and see it for what it was. Paper. I took that paper and I threw it in the recycling bin. And on March 13th, 2021, I wrote this in my journal: “I cut clips out of magazines and recycled my old life.”

The Grieving Process

Why did it take me three months to recycle a bunch of paper? Two reasons. One, I needed time to grieve. When you do something for 10 years, it becomes part of you. When you’re no longer that thing, there is a sense of loss.

Two, I was afraid to let go. Because if I let go of being a journalist, I would have to face the question it left behind. Who am I now? I didn’t have an answer. I got rid of more stuff, and I learned slowly to be okay with the spaces left behind.

The Liberation of Decluttering

It took me three months to get to that point, but it turns out it was the catharsis I didn’t know I needed. It turns out that getting rid of your stuff is really fun. It’s freeing. It is liberating.

And after that, I had a real sense of momentum to the point I would scan the apartment looking for things to get rid of and feel genuinely disappointed that we still needed everything. And what I’ve learned is this. There is a little bit of us in all of our stuff.

The Invisible Strings

It felt like there were invisible strings tying me to every scrap of paper, every worn-out T-shirt, every book I’d planned to read and didn’t. And when I got rid of the things, I snipped the strings. Instead of my energy going out to my stuff, I could focus it in, and I could begin to answer that question. Who am I now?

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Fast forward. July 2022. We had sold, gifted, or donated every piece of furniture, every household appliance, every refrigerator magnet. We’d closed up the apartment, given away our car.

The Suspended State

We had gotten rid of 99% of our stuff. More important, we’d reckoned with the old versions of ourselves contained within it. That last week in Vancouver, we stayed in a rental. My family, our suitcases.

It was the weirdest feeling, like we were suspended between stories. We’d effectively written the end on the Vancouver chapter of our lives, but the Tassie chapter hadn’t yet started. And in that space in between, it felt like anything was possible.

The Privilege of Change

I recognize that not everyone has the opportunity or the privilege to move internationally and restock their lives on the other end. I’m incredibly grateful that we were able to do that. My point is not that you should move internationally with just one suitcase.

My point is that our identities are shifting all the time. We change jobs, have children, move house. You might swap knitting needles for crochet hooks. You might decide the marathons aren’t so good for your knees, but this kayaking thing sounds kind of cool.

The Opportunity for Reflection

Every shift in identity is an opportunity to ask, what am I choosing to keep? What am I choosing to let go of? Do my physical possessions reflect those choices? The last day I lived in Vancouver, I packed my suitcase for Tassie.

I had consolidated those old versions of me. Their experiences are my experiences, but I am not them. I am me now. When you go home tonight, I invite you to think about your hypothetical suitcase and what it might feel like to get rid of 99% of your stuff. What will you keep? What will you let go of?