Minimalism should come with a warning label-Caution: May cause sudden desire to alter everything about your life

A year ago we pushed the reset button on our lives and moved back to our home state. We purchased a small house with an apartment we could rent out to pay our mortgage and began homeschooling. 

This move was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but I surrendered to it. After spending a year watching my dad go though treatment for pancreatic cancer, trying to shrink a tumor for the chance it could become operable, I had been trained in the art of radical acceptance. The uncertainty of whether or not he was going to survive that year changed my view on life forever.

Last year at this time I wondered where we would be a year from now. How different would our lives look? Would we hate our new life? Would we love it?

Fast forward a year later and spoiler alert, we made the right decision. 

We rented our old house for the year as we decided whether or not this move would be permanent. At the beginning of this summer we decided it was time to sell. This was difficult as I was not letting go of just a house, but of dreams of a life that would never come to fruition. 

Elizabeth Kubler Ross developed a theory about grief stating that we cycle through five stages. These stages are applicable to any loss, not just a death. The week before closing on our old house we stayed there for a few days as we prepared to sell. I grieved that week. Denial, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance, I felt it all. 

But the second I stepped back into our new home and our new life it embraced me. The comfort and peace I felt from our decision was clear and every part of my intuition was telling me, no screaming at me, we had done the right thing.

We were home right where we needed to be for now. Closer to my family, allowing us to more easily visit with them. The time we’ve spent with my dad this summer has been priceless. Two summers ago he was in the middle of chemotherapy treatment and my kids got a much different GD then they had grown accustomed to. This active and full of energy man couldn’t play with them like they were use to. Fast forward to this summer and my dad is 100 percent cancer free. He recently spent the day with us, swimming, jumping into the pool with the kids and throwing them in the water. We followed this up with multiple rounds of UNO and lots of hysterical laughing as my six year old crushed him every round. We ended the day buying him his first ever Chik-fil-A sandwich, which he happily devoured. We got him back. 

We are further away from some family and friends now, but this just forces us to be more intentional with how we spend time with them. This summer showed us this first hand. We’ve had the chance to see our friends that we love like family.  Some three hours away and some who live many, many miles away. We live a life now that has been carefully curated, choosing relationships not out of convenience but out of joy for having these people in our lives. This means work to stay connected with them but it also means feeling like no time has passed since we last saw them.  

Reflecting on the changes we’ve made this past year,  It’s not just about the house we live in. It’s about the life we are intentionally creating here that is authentic to us, and where we are thoughtful with the decisions about what and who is in it.

Minimalism is one of the things I have to thank for this. My dad’s cancer was the motivation I needed to make this huge change, but minimalism was the tool that allowed me to successfully navigate it. 

Of course it physically made this change possible. Having less stuff enabled us to fit all of our belongings into a 26 foot U-Haul and gave us the option to live in a smaller home, but mentally it also made the change possible.  It led me to question the things I owned and that led to questioning how I spent my time and that led to questioning my relationships and that led to questioning basically all of my life choices. 

You know how with minimalism it’s kind of like one minute you’re living in a 2300+ square foot home in a sought out cul-de-sac neighborhood with your children attending top performing school districts and the next moment you’re back in your home state, living in a home less than half that size, homeschooling and questioning the point of higher education and what it will even look like in 10 years when your first child makes it there? Oh wait, just me? This hasn’t happened to anyone else? Well this is awkward. Thanks minimalism. Thanks a lot. 

All joking aside though, thank you minimalism. For real, like really thank you. You opened my eyes to a new way of living and to the fact that I wasn’t really living at all. I was checking the boxes and following the script that had been laid before me. I was playing a role that very much didn’t fit me or my family. We are all just a bunch of bare foot hippies in tie dye. Not really, I’m kidding, well not about the tie dye part.

Minimalism starts with the stuff but after you get through with that watch out…you’re going to want to ruthlessly attack every single area you can. 

There have been times during this big life change where it got hard. Where it was painful and scary and I wished I could go back and just accept the life that I had, that I was supposed to be grateful for. It would have been so much easier that way, if I had never opened my eyes to a different way of living. It wouldn’t have hurt so much to make the change. But now on the other side of this major life leap I am so grateful. Grateful that minimalism was one of the things that helped me make a change for myself and my family. Now we are living a life we intentionally chose and didn’t just zombie walk our way into.

For others who are on the fence about minimalism, I say, swallow the red pill and wake up because the side effects of minimalism are so worth the cure they provide. I’ve made it to the other side of things and it is beautiful.

Minimalism should come with a warning label. Caution: May cause desire to alter everything about your life. Once this tool opens your eyes to a different way of living that is counter cultural to the norm, your life may be changed forever. It’s hard to go back, but the truth is you won’t want to. I sure didn’t.

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About the Author: Nikki Cox is a mom of two striving to live life with intention. Find her at Lovelylucidlife.com.