5 Years Ago I Gave Away or Sold Everything I Owned. Here's an Update on How That's Going.

May 20

May 20 5 Years Ago I Gave Away or Sold Everything I Owned. Here's an Update on How That's Going.

I moved to NYC 5 years ago. My 5-year anniversary was April 3, 2020. I celebrated by staying home and wearing a mask when I walked my dog. If you’ve seen my TEDx Talk or listened to my podcast episode with Shannon McLay, you know my story. I moved from San Diego to New York City with my entire life packed into about 7 boxes. I gave away or sold everything I owned in San Diego including a house full of furniture, a walk-in closet full of clothes, a BMW, my Goldendoodle named Lola (gave her to the best mom ever who helped me raise her). Everything.

I’m an accidental minimalist. I wasn’t making a social statement about possessions and American greed. I just couldn’t afford a large place in Manhattan and I’m opposed to storage units (paying someone to keep things you don’t want?). So it all went.

I moved to NYC with the essentials (yes, my Vitamix was an essential), and started over. It never occured to me that 5 years later I would still live an essentialist life. 5 years ago, I had one pot. I still have one pot. 5 years ago, I had one pan. I still have one pan. They’re both really nice ones because when you have one of anything, you better like it. I think that rule also applies to things like husbands and lives.

I can’t have more than 3 friends over at one time because I have 4 wine glasses. If we do have dinner at my place, I hope you don’t need a large dinner plate because I only use salad plates (small NYC cabinets). When I finish reading a book I immediately give it to a friend because every square inch in a Manhattan apartment matters. I live around the corner from a thrift store. I visit regularly and give them bags of clothes. Out with the old. We probably won’t make dinner at my place because I store things in my oven. I hope you like pizza and salad.

5 years into living an accidentally minimalist and essential life, here’s what I have learned:

90% of things are 100% annoying: most of the things in our homes aren’t bringing us joy or utility. What percentage of your clothes do you wear? What percentage of the things in your garage do you use or need even once a year? They’re filling closets, taking up precious energetic space around us, breaking and needing repair, cluttering our homes and our minds. There’s beauty in NOT having so many things. There’s beauty in a home filled with air and light and space. It creates energy for abundance to flow in.
I’m not defined by my things: I’ve never been into things like designer bags or jewelry, but I sure do love clothes and kitchen gadgets and linens. I love linens - a new set of fluffy towels just in case I get tired of my current set of fluffy towels? Yes! In the past 5 years, I haven’t felt any “less than” because I don’t have as many things. In fact, I’ve never felt so free and untethered.
You don’t even know what you have: right after my move to NYC, I would play this game. I would close my eyes and try really hard to remember everything I left behind. I’d mentally go through my kitchen or my closet. I could barely make a dent. Not once in 5 years have I regretted one of the things I left behind.
Once you get used to less, more doesn’t sound that great: the more I’ve lived with less, the less I’ve wanted more. Wow that was a random sentence.
Less is love: everything in my home requires intention: do I have space for it? do I already have something like it? does it make me happy or am I just buying it because I’m bored, filling a void, seeking validation? When you have less, you love what you have more. 5 years later, my home is filled only with things I use or love.

5 years of minimalism is one thing. Now, go ahead and add in a pandemic. For 2 months, I have gone even farther into the essential living experiment that has somehow become a really neat part of my journey. That coffee I ordered on my Starbucks app every day has been replaced by a cup of coffee I make at home. Those fancy NYC happy hours with friends have become Zoom dates while I sip my Trader Joe’s sparkling beverage. What was simple has become simpler. What was essential has become even more.

I might have 2 pans one day. Maybe even 3. Because you live one way today doesn’t mean that’s your story forever. But right now, 5 years deep into accidental minimalism, I’m still digging it. I still feel light, free, unencumbered, fluid. And that feels really good.