Who doesn’t appreciate nice things? I used to be the girl with a closet overflowing with handbags and clothes that I never wore. Items would hang untouched for months, still bearing their price tags—purchases made on a whim or in the wrong color. My passion for beautiful things extended beyond clothing, spilling into throw pillows, office supplies, and decorative rugs. If it caught my eye and fit my budget, it came home with me, regardless of necessity.
While having a collection of items isn’t inherently negative, for me, it spiraled into chaos. Clutter stirs up anxiety—just a glance at a disorganized room sends my stress levels soaring. In my single days, I managed to keep my space tidy, but then I got married, and my husband brought his own things into the mix. Before long, our collection had exploded, and when kids entered the picture, I found myself buried under an avalanche of toys and belongings.
I reached a tipping point—somewhere between forgetting what I owned and feeling like I was starring in a reality show about hoarding. My anxiety peaked, and I knew I had to take action. I began with my closet, tossing anything I hadn’t worn in six months into a donation pile. Room by room, I asked myself the same three questions: Do I love this? Do I need this? Do I already have something similar? The donation pile grew as I methodically sifted through my possessions.
When it came time to tackle the kids’ rooms, I hesitated. I decided to let them choose what to part with, acknowledging their ownership of the items. My six-year-old son had been observing my decluttering efforts and asked what would happen to the items I was donating. I explained that in our town, like many others, there was a homeless shelter, and that’s where our unneeded items would go.
His eyes widened in understanding. “They don’t have a home or toys?” he asked. Without hesitation, he dashed to his room and began sorting through his things, thoughtfully placing items in a donation box. “They can have these, Mommy,” he said, handing me a nearly overflowing box. That moment was pivotal.
Now, our home reflects only the essentials—the things we cherish most. The time, energy, and finances that once went into acquiring and managing our possessions are now dedicated to family experiences. We travel together instead of spending hours cleaning up or searching through cluttered spaces. We live fully.
Of course, we still acquire new things; it’s unavoidable. I don’t deny myself a lovely find at Target, and my kids occasionally receive new toys, just like any other family. However, we’re much more mindful about our needs versus wants. If a new item comes in, we often donate an old one to ensure others benefit from it too. As my husband wisely pointed out during our initial purge, “No one needs 16 throw pillows.” Especially when we are lucky enough to have each other.
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In summary, minimalism has transformed my life, alleviating anxiety and allowing me to focus on what truly matters—my family and our shared experiences. By simplifying our possessions, we’ve discovered a more fulfilling way of living.