*Amanda clambers out from beneath the rock she’s been living under for 2.5 weeks*
Four months into my first full-time job, I made an incredibly stupid decision.
I purchased an expensive vehicle. And I took out a loan to do it. A $20,000 loan.
Today, for the first time in months, I purchased something for myself. A real, actual, tangible, physical thing.
It has been almost two years since I started my decluttering journey and aspired to live a simpler life with less stuff.
Ironically, I’ve probably thought more about my belongings in the past two years than I ever had before—once you become aware of the clutter, it’s impossible to ignore. But the way I was thinking about my stuff had shifted; instead of wanting more, I was taking a hard look at whether the things I owned were helping me lead the life I wanted to live.
Anyone who’s ever stared down an overstuffed closet or disorganized storage room knows decluttering fatigue is a real thing.
Just like a distance runner is more exhausted at mile twenty-five than he is at mile two, we can only go through so many of our childrens’ broken Barbie dolls or old books before we’re ready to collapse in the middle of the floor and never get up again.