The Lifelong Journey of Leaving Plastic Behind 

By: Sofie Gelder

March 1, 2026

Though the unavoidability and abundance of plastic in society may challenge convenience, it will never stop one woman from looking for alternatives.

“You never know how much plastic you have until you try to break up with it,” Lies observes, reflecting on a journey that has led her to opt out of city garbage and recycling services entirely.

She lives in a residential neighbourhood in Toronto's east end, where waste is collected weekly. Lies watches the blue and yellow truck inch up her street, stopping at nearly every house except hers.

Inside, the stovetop kettle is on for tea, to be had with the cardamom Swedish knot she picked up from a family bakery on Queen Street. Waiting for the water to boil, she starts with some dishes; her hands plunge into a sink of lukewarm water and plain white vinegar.

This natural cleaning agent is a staple in her home, not only for sanitizing, but also for laundry and as a fabric softener. There is only one downside: she hasn't found a financially viable way to buy it in bulk. If she were to refill them all with the type of vinegar available locally, “the price would be closer to cocaine,” said Lies. For now, the containers in her basement remain empty.

It's a small frustration that points to a larger gap. According to a Grist article, aside from the financial benefits businesses could reap by cutting even a portion of single-use plastic packaging in favour of reusable alternatives, this would require a network of strategic changes and a demand that Lies cannot create alone. 

“You’ve always been this way,” said a friend over the phone in response to wondering when this all started. Growing up in a “fix-it-ourselves” household, the concept of “throwing something away” was never a phrase she tossed around. However, the conscious shift to live a plastic-free life questioned the very essence of one word.

“Where is away?” 

The book A Public Sociology of Waste by Dr. Myra J. Hird outlines that there are environmental impacts at every stage of a plastic's lifespan—from its origins in fossil fuels and wherever it ends up after it's tossed. Much of what is labelled "recyclable" gets funnelled into a labyrinth of overseas shipping, incinerators and landfills. What manages to avoid landfill is often burned for single energy use, potentially releasing toxic fumes into nearby communities and adding to an already overburdened atmosphere.

Dr. Hird writes that recycling has been strategically framed in the public sphere, marking the last point of contact most people have with what they throw away. For corporations driving plastic production, this is a deflective tactic that allows product and packaging producers to continue avoiding financial and material responsibility.  

For Lies, the championing of recycling has made her wonder when and how it came to earn its place in the sequence: reduce, reuse, recycle. 

After over 26 years in her neighbourhood, it's a question that has redefined her lifestyle to involve systems of circularity.

In a circular economy, “materials never become waste and nature is regenerated,” according to the Ellen MacArthur Foundation.

In her quest to eliminate dead ends, she regularly shops at a local grocer for necessities like produce and bars of soap, where she brings her own bags for things as small as one piece of ginger. A refill store for dry goods, tea and honey, and, between May and October, she visits the farmers' market in the park outside her house.

“I like the community aspect of these spaces," said Lies. “The people are nice and knowledgeable." 

Beyond plastic waste, Lies steers just as clear of food waste as she does plastics and other commercial packaging materials by saving her veggie ends in her freezer for soups and stews. It's a process that saves her a lot of money, and by preserving what might otherwise be discarded, she feels connected to her roots.

“My parents were war babies, so frugality was a way of life and fresh food was a blessing,” says Lies, who has inherited these habits that make the need for waste collection non-existent. 

She keeps an organized list of what's in her basement freezer so that nothing gets missed: eighteen servings of chilli, 6 containers of black bean soup, five servings of roasted pepper and the vegetable scraps neatly logged.

At home, whatever doesn’t get frozen gets fed to her backyard compost stocks so that any food waste she does produce goes "back to the land," a regenerative and equally satisfying practice.

Though she has gotten good at separating from plastic that serves no function beyond its intended use, she acknowledges that cutting it out completely isn't always realistic. For her, a key step before purchasing a product in plastic packaging is gauging its durability, longevity and versatility. 

As spring approaches, robins and other birds begin searching for food and nesting materials, and much of Lies lifestyle can be likened to the careful assemblage of a nest: grass, sticks, lichens, and mud chosen for their durability and insulation. In urban areas, synthetic materials are common but may harm the very nestlings they shelter. Some songbirds return to a sturdy nest season after season. She, too, has been building deliberately—choices and habits that actively push back against a culture of convenience and its disposable byproducts. 

This source's last name has been withheld at their request.