My (Mostly Failed) Attempt at Minimalism

Why I Thought Minimalism Was the Answer

Okay, so, honestly, I was drowning. Not literally, thank goodness. But drowning in stuff. Clothes I hadn’t worn in years were crammed into my closet. Kitchen gadgets I’d used once (or never!) were taking up valuable counter space. My bookshelf was overflowing with books I probably wouldn’t re-read. It was suffocating. I felt like I was constantly cleaning and organizing, but nothing ever stayed organized for long. You know that feeling, right?

I started seeing all these articles and YouTube videos about minimalism. People talking about how decluttering their lives had brought them so much peace and happiness. It sounded… appealing. The idea of owning only things I truly loved and used regularly? Revolutionary. I pictured myself in a serene, clutter-free apartment, sipping tea and finally feeling calm. Was I romanticizing it? Probably. But I was desperate for a change. So, I dove in headfirst. Or, at least, I tried to. I figured, “Hey, what do I have to lose?” Except maybe a lot of sweaters.

The initial appeal was the promise of freedom. Freedom from the constant need to buy more. Freedom from the pressure of keeping up with the Joneses. Freedom from the sheer weight of *stuff*. I wanted to experience that lighter, more intentional way of living. I pictured myself donating bags of clothes and feeling this immense sense of relief. And, to be fair, I *did* experience that… briefly. The problem? Sticking with it.

My Decluttering Disaster (or Two)

Ugh, what a mess! My first attempt at decluttering was… aggressive. I went full Marie Kondo on my apartment, thanking each item for its service before tossing it into a donation box. Which, okay, maybe that part was a little extra. But I was committed! I purged clothes, books, kitchenware, even sentimental items I thought I could live without. I felt amazing afterward. Like I could breathe again.

The problem started a few weeks later. That cute, vintage sweater I donated because it “didn’t spark joy”? I suddenly desperately needed it for a party. The bread maker I got rid of because I only used it twice? Turns out, I suddenly had the urge to bake artisan bread every weekend. And those books? Yeah, I regretted getting rid of a few of those too. Especially when I wanted to reference something I *knew* was in one of them.

I felt like such an idiot. Was I the only one confused by this? I’d thrown the baby out with the bathwater! I ended up buying back some of the things I had donated, which completely defeated the purpose of minimalism in the first place. It was a frustrating and expensive learning experience. And it made me realize that maybe I wasn’t cut out for extreme minimalism.

Funny thing is, I even tried one of those minimalist packing challenges. You know, where you pack all your belongings into a single suitcase? Yeah, that lasted about an hour. I realized I couldn’t live without my favorite coffee mug. Or my noise-canceling headphones. Or, like, half my skincare routine. Who even knows what’s next?

Finding My Own Version of “Enough”

Okay, so full-blown minimalism wasn’t for me. But the experience wasn’t a complete failure. It forced me to confront my relationship with stuff. I started asking myself better questions before buying anything. Do I really need this? Will it actually make my life better? Or am I just buying it because it’s on sale or because I saw it on Instagram? It’s kind of like breaking up with a bad boyfriend – you learn to spot the red flags earlier next time.

I also realized that minimalism isn’t about deprivation. It’s about intention. It’s about curating a life filled with things that you truly love and that serve a purpose. For me, that means owning more than just the bare necessities. It means having a few extra sweaters (just in case). It means keeping my bread maker (even if I only use it occasionally). And it definitely means keeping my favorite coffee mug.

I’ve shifted my focus from strict rules to mindful consumption. I still declutter regularly, but I’m much more thoughtful about what I get rid of. I donate clothes that no longer fit or that I haven’t worn in a year. I sell kitchen gadgets that I know I’ll never use. And I try to be more conscious of my impulse purchases. It’s a work in progress, definitely. But I’m getting there.

Lessons Learned: It’s All About Balance

The biggest lesson I learned from my (mostly failed) attempt at minimalism is that it’s not a one-size-fits-all philosophy. What works for one person might not work for another. And that’s okay. The important thing is to find what works for you. To create a life that feels authentic and fulfilling, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into a minimalist box.

Maybe you’re someone who thrives on owning very little. Or maybe you’re someone who enjoys surrounding yourself with beautiful things. Either way, the goal is to be intentional about your choices. To be mindful of your consumption. And to create a space that feels peaceful and supportive, whatever that looks like for you.

I messed up by going too extreme too quickly. I’m now working on finding a sustainable balance, which is probably the key to any successful lifestyle change, right? And if you’re as curious as I was, you might want to dig into this other topic of mindful spending, as I think the two go hand in hand. So, yeah, I’m not a minimalist. But I’m definitely more mindful about what I bring into my life. And that’s a start. And honestly, that’s enough. For now, at least.