Remember Your Sh*t: The 6th R of Zero Waste

Traditionally, there are 5 "R"s of Zero Waste:

Refuse
Reduce
Reuse
Recycle
Rot

However, recent events have revealed a secret 6th R on the list: REMEMBER YOUR SHIT.

Someone stole my purse this Christmas.

No, I was not the victim of some skull capped thug running up and wrestling my purse from me. I was dumb enough to walk away from it at Barnes and Noble and when I returned (albeit over 10 minutes later), it was gone. Yes, I talked to an employee who checked the lost and found. Even went to the effort of searching the bathrooms and the trash can outside the store. I reported the theft to mall security, but who am I kidding? Here I am a month later, finally resigned that my purse is gone forever.

Before I go any further into this pity party, I need to say how thankful I am that the four most essential parts of my everyday life—my phone, credit card, ID, and keys—were NOT in the stolen purse. I keep my ID and credit card in my phone and both my phone and my keys just happened to be in my coat pocket that day. Thank God. I can’t imagine the headache losing those items would have created.

That said, the crime was not committed without loss to me. Perhaps the most frustrating part is that the purse contained things only valuable—infinitely so—to me, including:

The purse itself. Not only was it a truly beautiful purse, but my zero waste lifestyle dictated that it be my only purse, excluding the few tiny ones I keep around for nights on the town that hold nothing more than my phone and a tube of lipstick. In addition, I bought that vintage 90's genuine leather Coach Purse at Goodwill preparing for a LARP so memorable that I spent the last two years of Nanowrimo novelizing it. So…yeah. Feelings.
My wallet. The one I bought on my trip to Barcelona with my sister after a less than fortunate day visiting Park Guell. It was a beautiful patchwork of colored leather made to represent the mosaics. More feelings. Though it contained no actual cash, it did hold my medical cards, birth control, a sheet of stamps, and a few gift cards.
A notebook. The one I bought on my first trip to Seattle and Portland, which carried many story snippets, drawings, and a detailed account of that fateful journey. Even more feelings!
My menstrual cup. Not so much an emotional loss as a financial and convenient one. I had to buy actual tampons and pads recently and remembered how horrible it is not to have a menstrual cup.
Ibuprofen, my portable cutlery set, and three hankies. All easy fixes for me financially, but nonetheless frustrating to lose on a zero waste basis.

Since these things have no value to anyone else but me, I can only assume that they ended up in the trash. Except maybe the coach purse, which still had its certificate of authentication in the pocket and may have ended up on eBay.

The idea of these valuables in a landfill before my life is over is heartbreaking. Beyond the sentimental part, I broke one of the unspoken rules of zero waste:

Don’t. Lose. You’re Shit.

I literally just talked about this on the anniversary of my blog. If you constantly have to replace stuff you lose, you create waste no matter how good your intentions.

I am infamous to all who know me as a rather forgetful person. This wasn’t the first time I left my purse in a public place; it’s just the first time someone stole it. Apparently it's possible to run out of good karma and good Samaritans.

However, being constantly aware of your belongings creates a conflict of zero waste ideals. In the pursuit to not be defined by your belongings, you can easily become more attached to them than ever. Your things are no longer disposable or easily replaceable; they’re essential to your lifestyle. You invested in them with hopes that they would save the earth (and your wallet) over time.

In short, having my purse stolen made me question zero waste.

This feeling of being defined by your belongings is a dirty one. No one wants to be described as materialistic. I want to be defined by experiences and relationships. I want to be the kind of person who can drop everything and fly off to Alaska or Vietnam if I want to. Is zero waste stripping me of spontaneity?

I guess you could take it that way, but here are a few other options:

Valuing belongings is important. When we think of things as convenient or disposable, we disregard the energy and lasting impact they have on the earth. Mourning the loss of a valuable object is not shallow, it's essential to decreasing waste.
Zero waste tools in a landfill are still less wasteful than the alternative. Everything you do matters. The lesser of two evils may still be evil, but it's way less of a problem to bury a few reusable items than to bury hundreds of used tissues, tampons, and plastic cutlery.
You can always start over, remembering that being zero waste is a privilege. Sadly, it does cost money and create waste to become zero waste. Yes, maintaining a zero waste lifestyle may save you money here and there, but without an expendable income, it's hard to get to that point. If you can, start over with the most waste-reducing investments. If you can't, start with the cheapest.
You can value belongings...so long as you value people more. If you strive to create valuable relationships, they'll be there for you when you fall. Or when you get your purse stolen. I had three wonderful friends get me beautiful purses for Christmas. Even more friends and family provided emotional support or just good audience etiquette as I regaled them with my "tragedy".

Nobody's perfect, but there's always room for improvement.

We all have bad days, but when I recognize a particularly destructive flaw, I do everything in my power to work on it. I can here my loved ones chuckling as I write this, but this time I mean it. 2018 will be the year that I stop misplacing my belongings.

...Or at least I'll misplace them less.

Labels: beginnings, shopping, trash