Sustainable Intentions, Real Life Limits

When I was a younger woman, I was single, childless, and employed. I worked in a local shop that sold eco-products chosen for their benefit to society and the environment, including stainless steel straws, silicone replacement pouches for Ziplock bags, dish sponges made from biodegradable materials, and many more excellent products. I was fortunate to gather a collection of stainless-steel food containers, water bottles, and other essentials over time. I felt good about my choices—and yes, I was also proud.

In those days, if I went out to eat, I always brought my own reusable container for leftovers and carried my metal straw, which I would take home, wash carefully, and clean with a small brush. I even had an organic cotton hanky for blowing my nose. It was easy, and it was gratifying. I lived close to where I worked, so I could walk every day, carefree. Life was simple. Then everything changed.

For years I had dreamed of becoming a mother, and I was certain that when it happened, I would do all the “right” things. I would use cloth diapers—there was no question of that—and I imagined making reusable baby wipes from cut-up old sheets soaked in gentle essential oils. I pictured myself getting around on foot with a stroller. It was a beautiful dream. But in reality, it didn’t happen that way.

The truth is, we don’t really know how life experiences will affect us until we are living them. In my case, I became completely overwhelmed, and most of my systems fell apart. I did not use cloth diapers. Instead, I bought biodegradable eco-diapers stuffed with tree cellulose, and I ended up using single-use biodegradable baby wipes as well. They were made of bamboo, and the packaging was recyclable, but I still felt guilty about it. Most of my high standards fell by the wayside, and as a lifelong environmentalist, this was both surprising and embarrassing to me.

The reality is that many green lifestyle choices take more time and effort. They can also cost more upfront. It takes energy to remember your reusable containers, to bring them home again, and to wash them. As a new mom, already exhausted from caring for my baby, those extra steps became too much. Some people manage it, but I, somehow, could not. I hadn’t seen that coming, and I couldn’t fully understand it until I was living it myself.

One positive outcome of this experience was that it opened my heart and mind to more compassion—for people who may not be able to make the environment their top priority, including those living with mental health challenges, addictions, poverty, or housing insecurity, and anyone simply carrying more than they have capacity for. Sometimes, we just have to let things go in order to survive. It’s a hard truth, and an even harder one is realizing how quickly we become dependent on single-use conveniences. Those Ziplock bags really are handy, and when waste disappears into the garbage system, it is easy for it to become out of sight and out of mind.

Now my kids are older, and I would like to say the struggle is over—but a family of four simply produces more waste than a single person ever does. School lunches and snacks come with a lot of packaging. We recycle as much as possible and continue to use unbleached bamboo products for paper towels, tissues, and other single-use paper goods. I buy compostable plates for family picnics, and many restaurants now use biodegradable takeout containers, which I gratefully place in the city-wide Green Bin program.

We are a one-car family. My partner bikes to work in all seasons. We no longer water our lawn in summer and have instead planted a garden of prairie-hardy, drought-resistant flowers. We use bath towels multiple times before washing them, and I buy almost exclusively second-hand clothing for the kids, while avoiding synthetic fabrics that do not biodegrade.

There is always more that can be done. Our family could still do more. I personally believe that policy changes made by governments and municipalities are one of the most effective ways to reduce waste at scale. When systems are in place and made easy for families and busy working people, most of us will want to participate.