The Year of Less

Remember that all you’re committing to is slowing down and asking yourself what you really want, rather than acting on impulse. That’s it. That’s what being a “mindful” consumer is all about.

It was enough. I had enough.

I was enough.

Decluttering and purging 70 percent of my belongings came with different lessons. I realized I had spent the first 29 years of my life doing and buying whatever I could to be someone I thought I should be. I kept so many things, and consumed the wrong things, all because I never felt like I was good enough. I wasn’t smart enough or professional enough or talented enough or creative enough. I didn’t trust that who I was or what I brought to the table in any situation was already unique, so I bought things that could make me better. Then I spent a year sorting through the mess and figuring out who I really was.

1 was not only a stretch goal, it had seemed like an impossible feat back in April. I should have known by now that anything was possible if I made it a priority

My reasoning, at the time, was always that I never had the money. It was true. When I looked at my bank accounts, it was true. But if I had looked around my apartment, instead, I would have seen that I did have money—or at least, I had access to credit. I was simply choosing to spend it on other things.

If I’m honest, this is one of the biggest issues friends and I have faced when working for startups, in general. Whether you work remotely or in the office, there is an understanding that you should be as committed to the company as the CEO—that means working long hours, and giving up parts of your life, in order to see the company succeed. Some companies compensate their employees generously for this level of commitment, but many do not. In fact, I know a handful of companies that take advantage of the people who want all the other “benefits” that come with working for startups—the food and alcohol, game rooms, yoga studios, gym passes, and free transit—and pay them lower, sometimes unlivable wages. People accept this, and trade their time and energy for it, because they think it’s worth it to say they’ve worked for a specific company or gotten a certain type of experience.

Another common problem that not enough people discuss is how being given the opportunity to work remotely comes with a certain kind of guilt. Since no one can physically see you in person, you feel the need to be online and available at all times, to prove you are, in fact, working. Having the added responsibility of being in a management position only made this worse, and meant I was often online and available for 10 to 12 hours each day.

The truth, I was learning, was that we couldn’t actually discover what we needed until we lived without it.

I could live with the silence. What I couldn’t live with was losing hours, days, and weeks of my life to things that didn’t matter.

I had always loved living alone, but I did not love being alone now, and there was a big difference. Living alone meant I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted in my own space, without having to think about how it would affect someone else. Being alone meant not having someone else to share my daily life with.