Minimalism always seemed like a nice idea. Such a calming, pleasing aesthetic, but just so out of reach.
How could my chaotic, bustling house exude the energy of a minimalist home with perfectly folded towels and empty shelves with young children and a puppy running around?
Out of utter frustration one morning I started.
One small cupboard was sorted, simplified and organised. A handful of toys donated, some clothes sold. In under an hour I’d transformed just one small space. Over the following weeks pockets of time were dedicated to other spaces around the house. Cupboards and drawers emptied and simplified. An overflowing box of things to donate sat in the garage, a flow of happy customers arrived to collect their pre-loved purchases.
In the midst of this overhaul something inside me shifted. As I let go of belongings I let go of so many of the stories wrapped up in the belongings. For so long I justified keeping things that served no purpose - memories from home, gifts from loved ones, op shop finds too good to let go. I had given the objects the responsibility of storing memories instead of the memories living in me.
In just a few weeks I’d unknowingly signed up to minimalism (and was hooked).
The more I simplified the more space I craved.
While our house was transformed the biggest shifts were inside me. I felt less attached and less consumed. Life felt calmer, lighter and more spacious. I could literally feel the weight of the belongings as they left.
Ten years on life still has moments of chaos and the house often feels anything but minimal but the ease that comes with knowing that it’s all manageable. In under 20 minutes order could be restored.
Best decision I made that morning was to just begin letting go.