One day, a couple of years ago, my dad inadvertently gave me some of the best advice I’ve ever received.
Why do we hold on to junk that we no longer use or need?
This is a question I asked myself frequently as I mercilessly purged my belongings during The Great Declutter of 2015.
I started this blog because I feel like, up until fairly recently, I’ve been living a life similar to a lot of people out there—fine on the surface, but ultimately unfulfilling; sensible, safe, but boring. I’m following a path many have taken before me: Corporate desk job where I work 40 hours a week. Car loan. Living in a city geographically close to where I grew up.
My realization that I don’t have to live and die within this cookie-cutter template of a life has come in waves. I started learning about farfetched concepts like budgeting, financial independence, and not buying every shiny new thing screaming at me from a sale rack, and suddenly I was asking myself a lot of dangerous questions:
What if I didn’t have to work a standard 40-year career? What if I could purchase my next car in cash? What if I stopped buying stuff just because all the 15-second ads playing between YouTube videos told me I needed to?
This awakening began roughly two years ago, when I first stumbled upon the concept of minimalism.
I wish I could say that my journey to minimalism began gently, like falling into a downy bed of snowflakes knitted by singing angels, but that would be a lie.
Instead, my journey began with spiders, in a nightmarish event I have since dubbed Spiderpocalypse 2015.