When I hear “simple life,” my brain always gives me two conflicting pictures.
One: a cozy apartment with white curtains, soft jazz playing, plants that actually survive, and me journaling by the window with a cup of tea. And two: me, still trying to remember if I locked the gas while on my way to my fifth TED talk for the week, as a guest speaker, texting my boyfriend while I'm in the car, to acknowledge the date we have for the weekend.”
Somewhere between both versions is my present reality.
I’m not a minimalist in the aesthetic sense. My desk isn’t spotless, my gallery app is chaotic, and my notes app? Even worse. But over time, I’ve realized simplicity, for me, has less to do with things and more to do with noise.
I’ve always been a lot, emotionally, mentally, and creatively. I like doing too many things. I like learning random stuff. I can wake up thinking about writing, end up watching a movie about love, and somehow sleep with my head full of skincare formulas. At first, I thought it was a problem with routines, but I've realized it's not, it's more of what I'm interested in doing at the moment.
Seeing this prompt made me ask myself one single question, “What would my life look like if I didn’t need to do everything?”
What if I just did the things that made me feel alive, not the ones that made me feel relevant? Although life doesn't work that way, but hey, a girl can dream.
That’s when the picture started forming.
A simple, minimalist life, for me, would look like slower mornings. Not necessarily waking up at 5 a.m. to meditate (because, let’s be honest, I probably won’t), but mornings that don’t start with panic or rush. Maybe lighting a candle. Maybe journaling for 10 minutes. Maybe just sitting in silence and letting my thoughts settle before I open my phone. Or perhaps even opening my phone and doomscrolling for at least 10 minutes.
In reality, that's laziness or a waste of valuable time but for someone like me that's always looking to get busy, a minimalistic lifestyle can afford me being lazy for as minimal time as I can get, especially with the slower mornings because, God help me, I'm so not a morning person, although my body system seem to not get the message, always waking by 6 AM.
It would also look like having fewer tabs open, both on my browser and in my brain. Choosing one or two projects at a time. Not feeling guilty for resting or for not being “productive.”
And definitely: less emotional clutter.
I’ve noticed how much energy I spend trying to explain myself to people who don’t even listen properly. Or how I hold onto conversations that ended months ago. Minimalism, to me, is learning to drop that. Not every thought needs unpacking. Not every relationship deserves revisiting. Some things just belong in the “archive.” And safe to say, I've started practicing this since I realized it. I used to hate leaving conversations hanging, but now, I'll not chase after someone who no longer has words to complete the conversation, especially when I, as someone who has a way with words, already have vocal expectations of the person. I'm now learning to say my truth and leave things be, no matter how uncomfortable unfinished conversations may be.
Physically though, I think it’d look like a wardrobe I actually love. No impulse buys, no “just in case” dresses. Just pieces that fit, feel good, and reflect who I am right now, not who I was two years ago. And the beautiful thing is, that is what I'm already building.
And maybe a bookshelf that isn’t overflowing with unread novels. I know, I know, this one might take time because romance books still own me. And sadly, adulthood seems to have stripped the interest and time I usually give to reading. I'm genuinely hoping I find it back. The interest, that is. So yeah, a simple minimalist life will give me a home library, Beauty and the Beast style, with books I've most certainly read.
What would be absent? Noise. Overcommitment. People who drain me. Guilt. That weird need to prove that I’m doing okay.
What would be present? Peace. Curiosity. Creativity. My diary. Unapologetic quiet moments.
The older I get, the more I see that “simple” doesn’t mean boring. Oh, far from it. It means selective. It means being honest about what I can handle and what I can’t. It means not trying to romanticize chaos because peace feels too plain.
And honestly, I’m still learning that. Some days, I slip. I overthink, overplan, overdo. I crave drama, ha ha, lmao. But then I’ll have a random evening where I star at the full moon, play Adele, and just… breathe. And it hits me again: this is beautiful, peaceful, and enough.
Minimalism to me, isn’t about having a perfect system. It is now about removing the excess so I can see myself clearly whenever needed.
So yeah, a simple life for me isn’t about owning fewer things. It’s about owning myself more, my time, my space, my focus, my softness. And that, my dear friends, is still a work in progress.
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In response to The Minimalist Community Kiss Blog Wk 180. All images are from mine.
Thank you for reading. 🧡