Life throws a lot at us, and sometimes, we get buried in a mountain of our own stuff! That was certainly the case for me when I moved back from the UK after finishing my studies. Faced with mountains of belongings and the emotional load of sorting through my late mum's things, I clung to possessions with a white-knuckled grip. But a realisation dawned: these things weren't memories, they were burdens. Clearing them wouldn't erase the past, perhaps instead, it could free up space for the present.
Fuelled by Marie Kondo's "spark joy" method, I dived headfirst into decluttering. It felt good at first, a cathartic release. But the thrill of letting go turned into a relentless purge. I became obsessed with minimising everything I owned, even tossing out items that might still be useful. It was a whirlwind of decision fatigue, both physically and emotionally.
Here's the turning point: minimalism isn't about mindless decluttering. It's about intentionality. Getting rid of things shouldn't be an end in itself. I learned the hard way that a minimalist wardrobe doesn't mean wearing the same clothes every other day because you got rid of everything else. It's about having a curated selection that brings you joy and makes getting dressed a doddle.
If you notice no matter in my daily life or in yoga classes, I always rotate my few outfits and keep my collection slightly more neutral in style – this is how I actually got into minimalism. I realised I didn't need a vast wardrobe to feel good about myself. A few well-chosen pieces that mix and match easily were all I truly needed.
The biggest shift for me came from adopting a "low buy" principle. Instead of impulse purchases, I only buy what I truly need. This applies to everything, from clothes to gadgets. Sure, there's a certain pressure to chase trends, but that doesn't have to be me anymore. Minimalism allowed me to define my own style and value, not one dictated by the latest fads.
The impact has been profound. My wardrobe is organised, and outfit planning takes minutes. More importantly, the constant mental chatter about possessions has quietened down. There's a sense of peace and clarity that comes from knowing exactly what I have and why I have it. It sounds simple, but for someone who struggles with anxiety, this newfound calm is a game-changer.
This is just the beginning of my minimalist journey. In future posts, I'll delve deeper into the practicalities of decluttering – but with a focus on intentionality and keeping what truly sparks joy. Because after all, minimalism isn't about deprivation, it's about creating space for what matters most.
And yes, I completely understand the "little cute things" trap! Those trinkets that seem useful in theory often just end up cluttering drawers and shelves. Learning to resist impulse purchases of these items was a big part of my minimalist journey.
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