How to Maximize Your Life by Minimizing
When I cleaned out my life to make space for happy changes
Happy end of Monday (or early Tuesday), everyone!
As I prepare for a trip back to London this weekend (lots of updates coming!), I want to share with you this blast-from-the-past story of an intentional life revamp I attempted six years ago, after returning from a two-year stay in England.
All this prepared me for my trip to Denmark and everything that came after. When in between major life changes, always take time to clean out your life. The Nordic idea of minimalism can be applied to so much more than furniture, it turned out.
A German-American architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe famously said:
“Less is more.”
What’s true for architecture is true for our lives, too.
Six years ago, I was an American running back home to New York from a foreign country, broke and scared for my future, wrapping up yet another unhealthy relationship.
I was 34 and shattered. If I were to get better, I needed radical changes.
Somewhere around that time, an idea that less is more got stuck in my head. I was convinced that if I cleaned out certain areas of my life, I’d clean out my brain, too.
And so, to make space for new and better things to come, I began “downsizing.”
Here’s what happened.
I minimized noise
I once had a boyfriend who couldn’t be in silence. He went to sleep with music on, he woke up to music, and he played it in the background for the rest of the day. He was, I assumed, terrified to be left alone with his thoughts.
And so is the rest of America, which would explain all the literal and metaphorical noise we’re being bombarded with. Loud music everywhere you turn, loud people, loud cars, loud news and commercials — there’s no escape.
We’re in a constant state of overstimulation. But it doesn’t stop there.
Every time you open your email or a newspaper, turn on TV or radio, look at subway ads or billboards, you drown in an anxiety-producing scam — the silent noise.
It suddenly hit me how sensitive I was to all of it and how much anxiety it has caused me. It had to stop.
With a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, I cut out the street noise first. Then I stopped reading the news, beyond a quick scan of the front pages. I stopped spending more than ten minutes a day on social media. I unsubscribed from every email list I never intended to subscribe to in the first place. I went through all my unread emails. I never again watched a TV ad or listened to a radio commercial. Never left the TV on for no reason. Even music became an occasional treat.
I wanted my thoughts to be loud and clear, and all mine.
I took in information selectively. I wasn’t told what to think, feel or fear anymore. And that helped to hear, and get to know, the real me.
“Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice.” — Steve Jobs
When Coronavirus struck three years later, I remained calm and, luckily, healthy. More than ever, I took in the news in tiny doses and with breaks. I watched people around me worry themselves sick by just reading the news all day long. They lost the war with noise.
Silence is underrated but it’s everything. If you want to discover yourself, you need to first hear yourself think.
Once I did, I knew how to help myself better.
I minimized people
I was hurt to discover that some people in my life weren’t there for me when I needed them most. Some were even judgmental: of my life choices, the risks I took, the results I got. Sadly, those I perceived as my friends were making me feel worse.
Then, an old friend of mine spoke up. “Those people aren’t your friends,” she said, “They’re energy-suckers who are unhappy in their own lives.” Indeed, talking to those people left me feeling exhausted and even more depressed.
She then told me to make a list with three columns: friends who always made me feel good, those who sometimes made me feel bad, and those who always made me feel bad. She told me to sack everyone in the third column, keep an eye on those in the middle, and be grateful for the rest.
The truth is that life is too short to waste on anyone who makes you feel bad about yourself.
I got over my fear of confrontation and ended some of those toxic friendships. I felt lighter instantly. I had more energy, too. I look back now and realize that I don’t miss any of them.
It’s not about how many friends you have. It’s about how they make you feel about yourself.
“If you have one true friend, you have more than your share.” — Thomas Fuller
Even one person who accepts you for who you are and sees your strengths, as well as weaknesses, can bring more good into your life than a crowd of meaningless companions.
Friendship is an investment that takes time. Keep putting in time and effort into the good ones. Don’t spread yourself too thin. Don’t be afraid to let people go.
When you do, you might just make space for someone new and special to walk into your life. I know I did.
I minimized space
In my twenties, I asked a friend why she didn’t own a single chair. “I don’t want to get too comfortable,” she answered. She was afraid she’d stop seeking adventures. Sadly, she died young. It’s as if she knew she didn’t have time to waste sitting at home.
She knew then what I’m still learning from my fridge magnet:
“Life begins outside of your comfort zone.” — Neale Donald Walsch
Contrary to popular American belief, you don’t need a lot of space to have a happy life. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Too much square footage and you’re serving your home, not the other way around.
Luckily, when it comes to real estate, New Yorkers are minimalists by default. They learned to do without laundry rooms, bedrooms, or even kitchens.
So, when returning home, I adopted a single New Yorker’s attitude and committed to the smallest apartment I could find: one small room, one small closet, kitchen counter bordering my bed. Just enough space for me and the dog. Just enough to be comfortable, but not too comfortable.
I knew an extra room would require extra furniture, extra cleaning and, above all, extra money. While those things can distract you for a while, they won’t fix your life. But getting out of the house as much as possible might.
So I challenged myself to go out, to take in the world around me, to be social, even though I hated it at first. When nothing else to do, I dragged my dog around Brooklyn’s Prospect Park for two hours every day. Sometimes I cried on the bench. Sometimes I talked to strangers.
One day, one of those strangers offered me a job. Which led to more time outside the house, more money, new friends and, eventually, a better me.
I minimized stuff
Stuff is the second biggest illusion Americans have after space. Stuff is what America is all about. And Stuff is what’s weighing us down.
“You don’t need more space. You need less stuff.” — Joshua Becker
I used to like Stuff. I spent money on nice furniture and electronics in different cities and countries, just to dump it all when the next adventure, or escape, called my name.
After two cross-country moves and two cross-Atlantic ones, I learned that the only possessions worth committing to were things I could easily take with me across the ocean. It meant small but significant items that could be packed away in a suitcase.
For everything else, there’s always an IKEA nearby.
Luckily, in my Brooklyn studio, I had one tiny closet. I decided that it had to do. I was ruthless with my belongings and threw away everything I could, sometimes too much. I only kept the clothes I wore in the last two years and never bought a new piece without discarding an old one first.
I won’t be the first one to tell you this: you have to get rid of things you don’t need to make room for happiness in your life.
“If one’s life is simple, contentment has to come. Simplicity is extremely important for happiness.” — The Dalai Lama
Your money is better spent on experiences, presents for loved ones, healthier food, or a gym membership. Next time you go shopping, try to justify your possessions. Give it a think before you buy, cherish it once you do.
Be grateful for every purchase and make the most out of it. Always think of yourself as a New Yorker with one small closet.
Once I cleaned out my life and kept it clean, amazing opportunities did come. I still had ups and downs but I recovered faster. My thoughts were more clear. My actions were more accountable.
Less is more.