In the past, I regularly participated in a classic act of procrastination productivity: I decluttered.
Any time I decluttered, I’d make a “donate” pile. It felt good. I was creating space (physical and mental) and giving things a second life. I was being helpful. Responsible. Maybe even a little generous?
The box was always the same: a kitchen gadget I tried once, a cheap acrylic sweater that never fit right, a half-used candle I didn’t like the scent of or tangled cords for devices I no longer owned. Maybe a partially-used notebook from my “journaling phase”, or some impulse-buy clothing I’d worn once.
I’d drive it to the thrift store and feel pretty satisfied with myself.
But over time, that feeling started to shift. I’d pull into the donation line behind a trail of cars, all unloading bags and boxes and I couldn’t shake the thought that we were all doing the same thing.
Trying to pass off the guilt about the stuff we bought but didn’t need.
The box wasn’t full of trash. Not entirely. It was full of regret. Full of overconsumption. A bunch of stuff that didn’t need to exist in the first place.
That was the first real shift for me: realizing that donating isn’t always charitable. Sometimes it’s just a way to dodge the guilt of overbuying. To pass the problem along.
But here’s the other part that haunted me: dropping off a donation doesn’t guarantee that stuff is actually going to be used again. It might get priced too high and sit on a shelf until it’s eventually trashed. It might never make it out onto the floor. It might get dumped in a rag bin, shipped overseas or quietly sent to landfill.
If I’m going to give something away for free anyway, I’ve started asking myself: why not give it directly to someone who could use it?
These days, I list things on Facebook Marketplace or in my local Buy Nothing group. I’ve left plenty of stuff on the curb with a “free” sign. One to one. No middleman. No markup. I get to know exactly where it’s going and the person on the other end actually wants it.
When I do donate, I try to do it thoughtfully. I give it to places I trust to price things responsibly. Stores where the proceeds support causes I believe in. Whether that’s a local charity, a community initiative, or a small business doing it right.
And of course, that all ties back to something even bigger.
I’ve been trying to shift how I think about object ownership. Not just how I let things go, but how I bring them in, and how I treat them while they’re here.
It seems obvious but just bring fewer things into your home in the first place. Less objects you own = less objects to meaningfully take care of.
Try to buy secondhand first (duh, I’m a thrifter). If I must buy new, make the highest-quality choice possible given my constraints (this includes budget!). If for some reason I stop needing the object, I want it it to continue to be useful to others for as long as possible.
Squeeze every bit of life out of it. Don’t abandon it halfway through just because something shinier came along.
Keep all the original parts. If it breaks, fix it. If it is unfixable, can it be used for something else? If not by me, can someone else put it to use for something else? If not, then what about the rest of the parts? Can they be used by me? What about by someone else? You get the jist.
If it still has life in it, I clean it, organize it, and give it to someone who can use it. Whether that’s through a neighbour, a friend, or a trusted thrift store.
Not everything will last forever and that is ok. Responsibly dispose of that object (by recycling or trashing). Yes, that’s right, put it in the garbage. Experience the object’s end of life. Learn from it, if there’s something to learn. Do not pass responsibility to someone else to trash it for you.
That box I used to drop off without a second thought? I still have one sometimes. But now it’s built with intention and not guilt.
Because being a responsible thrifter doesn’t just mean shopping at the thrift store. It’s about owning the full cycle from purchase, to care, to letting go.
Donating can still be great. But it’s not a guarantee. And it’s definitely not a get-out-of-guilt-free card for overconsumption.
