Posted in Personal Essay

The Time I Tried to be a Minimalist and Failed Spectacularly

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The Time I Tried to be a Minimalist and Failed Spectacularly


We’ve all been there. Scrolling through perfectly curated Instagram feeds, white walls, single succulents strategically placed on reclaimed wood shelves. The caption reads, “Living my best #minimalistlife” and you think, “I could do that.”

Friends, I am here to tell you, with my whole cluttered heart, I am not cut out to be a minimalist. Not even a little bit.

The Great Purge of 2023 (And Why It Wasn’t So Great)

My journey into the supposed serenity of a minimalist lifestyle began, as most misguided journeys do, with great enthusiasm. Armed with a donation bin bigger than my first apartment and the unshakeable belief that I, too, could live with less, I started with my closet.

“Surely,” I thought, “I don’t need this sweater I haven’t worn since 2007.” But then, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. That sweater was from a trip to Scotland! What if I go back to Scotland and it’s unexpectedly chilly? And what about this scarf? It was a gift from Aunt Mildred! Aunt Mildred who, bless her heart, has been with the angels for a decade and would absolutely haunt me if I gave away her hand-knitted scarf.

Three hours and a mountain of “maybes” later, my donation bin remained woefully empty. My closet, however, had somehow become a carefully curated display of my indecision.

When Minimalism Met a Sale (Spoiler: Minimalism Lost)

My brief foray into minimalism coincided with, what else, a massive sale at my favorite home goods store. “It’s fine,” I reasoned, “minimalism isn’t about deprivation. It’s about being mindful. And this bamboo utensil organizer is 75% off, so it would be irresponsible NOT to buy it.”

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