How I Started Living with Less (And Why It Changed Everything)

I remember staring at my dorm room junior year at BU, completely overwhelmed by… stuff. Clothes I never wore draped over chairs, textbooks I'd never open again stacked everywhere, random gadgets my parents kept sending "just because." The irony wasn't lost on me—I was studying environmental science, learning about resource depletion and waste streams, while literally drowning in unnecessary possessions.

That moment was my wake-up call. I mean, here I was getting anxious about climate change and consumer culture destroying the planet, but I couldn't even manage the consumption happening in my own 12×10 dorm room. Something had to change, you know?

<a href="https://declutterglee.com/<a href="https://declutterglee.com/<a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a>-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/"><a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a></a>-and-mindfulness-finding-peace-in-simplicity/"><a href="https://declutterglee.com/<a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a>-and-mindfulness-finding-peace-in-simplicity/">Minimalism</a></a> isn't really about having less stuff—though that's part of it. It's about figuring out what actually matters to you and letting everything else go. Sounds simple, right? It's not, especially when you've grown up in a culture that equates more things with more success, more happiness, more everything.

When I first heard about <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a>, I'll be honest, I thought it was just another lifestyle trend for people with too much time and money. But the more I read about it, the more I realized it connected to everything I was learning about sustainability. Every item you don't buy is resources saved, waste avoided, less contribution to systems that are literally destroying our planet.

The whole concept has roots going way back. Japanese Zen philosophy emphasized simplicity and intentionality—the idea that every object in your space should serve a purpose. Traditional Japanese homes weren't cluttered with decorative stuff just for the sake of having it. Everything had meaning, everything had its place.

In the West, <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a> showed up first in art during the 1960s. Artists like Donald Judd were stripping away everything unnecessary, focusing on raw materials and basic forms. They weren't trying to impress anyone with complexity—they were exploring what happened when you removed all the excess. That artistic movement eventually influenced how people thought about living spaces and lifestyles.

But here's the thing about modern <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a> that really clicked for me: it's not about deprivation. It's about freedom. When you're not constantly managing, organizing, cleaning, and worrying about a bunch of stuff you don't need, you have <a href="https://declutterglee.com/the-profound-impact-of-<a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a>-on-mental-health/">mental space for things that actually matter</a>.

Starting my minimalist journey was honestly pretty overwhelming at first. I'd look at my room and think "where do I even begin?" The key I learned was starting ridiculously small. Like, one drawer small. I'd pull everything out, hold each item, and ask myself two questions: Does this serve a practical purpose in my life? Does having this make me genuinely happy?

If the answer to both was no, out it went. Old cables for devices I didn't own anymore, clothes that didn't fit right, books I'd never reference again—gone. It was weirdly liberating, like each item I removed made the space feel lighter somehow.

One rule that really helped was the 90/90 principle. If I hadn't used something in the past 90 days and couldn't see myself needing it in the next 90 days, it was probably safe to let it go. This worked especially well for those "just in case" items—you know, the stuff you keep thinking you might need someday but never actually do.

Going digital helped a ton too. Instead of keeping physical copies of everything, I started scanning important documents and storing photos online. Obviously kept the truly essential papers in a secure physical location, but everything else? Digital. It's amazing how much space gets freed up when you're not storing boxes of old bank statements and printed emails.

The one-in, one-out rule became crucial for maintaining progress. Every time I brought something new into my space, something else had to go. This made me way more intentional about purchases, which aligned perfectly with my environmental goals. Do I really need this new jacket, or do I just want it because it's on sale?

My parents… well, let's just say they didn't understand what I was doing. When they visited during my senior year, my mom kept asking why my walls were so bare and where all my furniture was. "Don't you want your space to look nice?" she'd say. But it did look nice to me—clean, peaceful, intentional. Every item I'd kept served a purpose or brought me genuine joy.

The mental shift was honestly the most surprising part. I'd expected to feel deprived or like I was missing out, but it was the opposite. Less stuff meant less stress about maintaining and organizing everything. Less visual clutter meant I could actually focus when I studied. Less shopping meant more money for experiences I cared about, like camping trips and concerts.

When I moved to Seattle after graduation, everything I owned fit in my Honda Civic. My parents were horrified—they kept offering to buy me furniture for my studio apartment. But I furnished it gradually and thoughtfully, mostly with secondhand pieces that served multiple functions. A desk that doubled as a dining table, a bed frame with built-in storage, plants that cleaned the air and made the space feel alive.

People my age think I'm weird sometimes. They're constantly buying stuff—new clothes, gadgets, home decor—and when I tell them I'm choosing to live with less, they don't get it. "But don't you want nice things?" they'll ask. The thing is, I do have nice things. I just have fewer of them, and each one was chosen intentionally.

Dating has been… interesting. Brought someone home once and she commented that my apartment looked like I'd just moved in, even though I'd been there eight months. She couldn't understand that the simplicity was intentional, that I wasn't planning to fill up the empty spaces with more stuff.

The environmental aspect keeps me motivated when <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a> feels challenging. Every purchase I don't make is packaging not created, resources not extracted, transportation emissions avoided. It's not going to save the world by itself, but it's living according to my values instead of just talking about them.

Working for a nonprofit means my salary isn't huge, but <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a> makes that totally workable. My rent is low because I don't need much space. My monthly expenses are minimal because I'm not constantly buying things. This gives me freedom to do work I actually care about instead of taking some corporate job I'd hate just to afford a lifestyle I don't want.

The hardest part isn't getting rid of stuff—it's <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalist-mindset-shifts-how-to-break-free-from-consumerism/"><a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalist-mindset-shifts-how-to-break-free-from-consumerism/">maintaining the mindset</a></a> in a culture that constantly pushes consumption. Ads everywhere telling you that buying this product will make you happier, friends talking about their latest purchases, family members who show love by giving gifts you don't need or want.

But when I look around my apartment now—plants thriving in the natural light, books I actually read within reach, my laptop set up at a desk that faces the window—I feel calm in a way I never did when I was surrounded by clutter. This space reflects my values and priorities. Nothing here is accidental or unnecessary.

I'm not perfect at this. I still buy things I don't need sometimes, still get tempted by sales and new products. But I'm way more intentional than I used to be, and that's made a huge difference in both my environmental impact and my mental well-being.

The best part about <a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a> isn't the aesthetic—though I do love how clean and peaceful my space feels. It's the <a href="https://declutterglee.com/the-profound-impact-of-<a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a>-on-mental-health/"><a href="https://declutterglee.com/the-profound-impact-of-<a href="https://declutterglee.com/minimalism-and-sustainability-how-to-cut-daily-waste/">minimalism</a>-on-mental-health/">mental freedom</a></a> that comes from not being weighed down by possessions that don't serve you. When your environment is intentional, everything else feels more intentional too.

If you're feeling overwhelmed by your stuff or just curious about living more simply, start small. Pick one drawer, one shelf, one corner. Ask yourself what you actually need and use. Be honest about what adds value to your life versus what's just taking up space. You might be surprised by how good it feels to let things go.