Have you ever felt unsatisfied even though you know that what you have is exactly what you once wanted? There’s a term for that: hedonic adaptation. It refers to how the momentary happiness of something new wears off quickly, and we adjust to our changed circumstances. The thing we wanted becomes normal and unexciting once we have it for a while.
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I got a request to write about minimalism from a mom’s perspective, and right before my son’s first Christmas seems like a great time to do that. Some background for anyone who hasn’t been following me for a while: Over the past year or two, I’ve become increasingly interested in the concept of minimalism. I’ve been working to declutter my home, curb my shopping habit, pare down my wardrobe, and generally eliminate from my life those things that are unnecessary and not useful so that I can better focus my attention and resources on the things that are important to me.
While I hesitate to call myself a minimalist (I still own a lot of stuff), my mindset about the acquisition and retention of belongings has shifted in a way that I suspect will be permanent. It’s become easier for me to let go of what isn’t serving me, to resist the urge to buy new things, and to give more generously. Getting rid of excess stuff has been cathartic, and having fewer things in my house feels both calming and energizing. Letting go of unnecessary material things is really about something bigger — with each item I remove, I’m releasing either an attachment to the past or a worry or insecurity about the future. I’ve rid myself of weighty reminders of who I once was and what I felt I should be or do. Paring down my possessions has been a truly freeing experience.
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Yesterday was the last day of my initial #Project333 attempt, and I’m happy to report that I stuck with the challenge for the full three months! I did cheat in two small ways: I borrowed a pair of gloves when I was visiting my mom because it was really cold, and I borrowed a hoodie from a friend when we spontaneously decided to spend sometime outside after brunch and I hadn’t prepared for the chilly weather. Otherwise, I limited myself to the initial list I posted three months ago. I replaced my black pantsuit mid-challenge, which is something I had contemplated doing before I started this because the old one was getting pretty worn (I had bought it in 2011 and worn it heavily). Since I just replaced one black pantsuit with another that looked pretty similar, I didn’t consider that to be going outside my 33 items.
So how did it go? Well, dressing for essentially three seasons with 33 items was tough. When I started the challenge, it was hot here, and I wished I had included a pair of shorts. When I finished, it was cold and snowy, and there were days when my fleece-lined trench coat wasn’t quite warm enough for the winter weather. I managed okay, but it would have been nice to have some gloves and a heavier coat. The temperatures during the past three months have ranged from the 20s to the 80s, which is a big spread. I could probably control for some of that variation by timing the three-month seasons differently, but I live in a place with a variable, unpredictable climate, so big swings in the weather are probably unavoidable here. It may have been smarter for me to swap out some unnecessary accessories (a second pair of earrings, a thin scarf) for some more seasonally-practical items.
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Another blog I read recently asked readers what hobbies are on their bucket lists. The post got me thinking about goals and priorities. When I was in my early teens, I wrote a loooong bucket list (before bucket lists had a name) and taped it inside my bedroom closet to look at from time to time. I don’t remember everything that was on the list, but I know it was ambitious and all over the place. It included things like learning to ride horses, to play a musical instrument, to speak various languages, and living abroad. It was a lined piece of notebook paper with a dream handwritten on every line. Most of the entries were not things I’d thought about extensively, but rather things that just seemed like they’d be cool to do, or to be able to say I’d done.
I am enough. I have enough. I do enough.
I am doing enough. I have done enough. I did enough. I gave enough. I tried hard enough.
This is enough for me. You are enough. To be here is enough. It is enough just to be alive.
Love is enough. There is enough love. There is enough to go around. There’s enough for everyone. There’s already enough. We have enough to give freely.
Enough said. Enough already. I’ve had enough. We’ve had enough of this. Enough of that. Enough!
That’s enough. That’s good enough. Relax now; you’ve done enough. You are enough.
*Today’s post is a little unusual, a poem of sorts. This piece was born of a middle-of-the-night contemplation of abundance and sufficiency at the beginning of a season characterized by excess: more things, more commitments, more food. My mind settled on the word enough and its many uses. It’s an understated but powerful word, signaling, paradoxically, both acceptance and an unwillingness to accept any longer. It settles peacefully into contentment, or it draws a line in the sand. Perhaps it does both at the same time. “Enough of all that; I have enough already.”
(It’s also just a beautifully strange word when you look at it and say it over and over again.)
