I have lived in a bustling city like Lagos before and can tell you how much it made me sick; not for any specific reason at first, but because I quickly understood at a younger age that noise isn’t my thing.
I tend to feel frustrated in noisy places, especially when you have to exert all your energy just to push through the day. The honking of cars, the bus conductors shouting at the top of their voices just to alert the passengers, the rumbling of generators from left and right, even the constant chatter of people - all of these came together like a rushing tap that could not be turned off.
For some people, this kind of energy gives them life, but for me, it was draining and sickening.
I don’t like living in areas jam-packed with people like sardines because more often than not, it becomes toxic. For instance, I remember growing up in a ghetto area with my parents, where everyone was squeezed into narrow spaces, you could hear sounds of another family through the wall that divided ours and privacy was almost nonexistent.
At that time, I didn't understand the words to describe how it affected me, but later, as I grew older, I understood how such a lifestyle could wear down my mental health.
For someone like me who craves silence and finds peace in calm spaces, it just felt impossible at that time. I made up my mind that the moment I could afford to live on my own, I wouldn’t go for a bustling city with endless activities where the honk of cars, bikes and humans shouting could make me puke.
The first time I moved in with my aunt, I knew that was the kind of life I wanted - a quieter life. Her home was a haven; no distractions, no unending stream of sounds, just a gentle rhythm of daily life. It was simply the two of us moving in and out.
We only had a neighbour who stayed upstairs, and they were cooperative. Yes, they had kids who occasionally ran around the house, and you’d hear the sound hitting your head downstairs in the sitting room, but it was a far cry from the relentless chaos of where I was coming from.
That was the simplicity for me. The ability to think, to breathe and to feel clarity. It was something that changed my life.
Just like I have always emphasised that minimalism isn't only about owning fewer things. It's about the kind of environment where it doesn't have to compete with my peace of mind. Living a simple life leads to clarity, helps me make decisions without distractions and allows me to focus on what matters to me.
A minimalist lifestyle is like turning off that rushing tap, and instead of water spilling noisily everywhere, it becomes a gentle and steady flow which can be controlled, and that can be refreshing.
But does this mean I didn't miss my non-minimalist lifestyle because I have chosen this path? Trust me, I do and the answer might surprise you.
Despite how much I disliked noise, I miss the constant activity which makes you feel you are alone. Growing up in a bustling city, you would definitely hear someone knock at the door, music playing in the street, especially when Christmas is approaching or even neighbours dropping by for a quick conversation.
Even though the environment was toxic, it was what made everything alive for me. You could step outside and find people to interact with within minutes. You are never isolated in such an area. That is what I miss about that.
For me, I knew the sacrifice I had to make, choosing such a lifestyle, and one of them is loneliness, but it can't be compared to how quiet everywhere is for my health, most importantly.
I miss the laughter of kids playing in the street, perceiving the aroma of a neighbour's meal, lol. I would say those were moments of connection, though exhausting. The reason I embraced minimalism is for the peace and clarity it brings and I wouldn't compromise it for the chaos of the past.
The images are mine
