Brooke McAlary - Slow: Simple Living for a Frantic World

Six years ago, I was as close to having it all as you could imagine. Married to a wonderful man, mother to a lively and lovely one-year-old girl, pregnant with our second child, running a relatively successful handmade jewelry label, renovating our home, and just returned from an overseas vacation.

Life was abundant with all the good stuff wed spent so much time chasing. And I was utterly despondent.

Yes, life was abundant. Abundant with things . A double garage so full, it had never seen a car. Closets crammed with clothes I hated (never a thing to wear!). Cupboards full of enough toys to entertain an entire preschool.

Life was also abundant with other things : debt, anxiety, and stress. Life was hectic and hurried. Overengineered and overcommitted, disconnected and dissatisfying.

Rather than question our priorities or try to work out why we were so unhappy, we got busier. We added items to our lists of things to buy, things to do, and goals to kick. We kept buying stuff we couldnt afford. We continued digging a deeper hole, all in the name of keeping up with the Joneses, never realizing we were slowly morphing into the Joneses.

After our second child was born, I was diagnosed with severe postpartum depression. At my best, I was an automatonefficient, unfeeling, completely emotionally detached. At my worst, I was a nightmareangry, bitter, sad, resentful, and entertaining suicidal thoughts.

I remember sitting in my psychiatrists office, recounting the previous day and the anxiety that bloomed every time I stopped doing . She looked at me and asked, Have you ever considered doing less? Maybe slowing down a bit?

Doing less? Slowing down? Seriously? Doing less was for underachievers. Slowing down was for weak, boring people. Mediocre! Average! Ordinary! I was none of those things, thank you very much, and frankly was offended she thought so little of me.

But that seed of an idea had taken root in my frazzled brain. It wasnt until days later, when I found myself despairing at everything I had to do and be and own , that I even considered it a possibility. Do less? Slow down? OK. Maybe. But how?

Naturally, I turned to Google and found my way to Leo Babautas blog Zen Habits . There, I discovered a man who had completely transformed his life by choosing less. He was adamant that letting go of the excess stuff his family of eight had accumulated over the years led to massive changes in his health, happiness, work, home, parenting, relationships, finances, and self-esteem. He was an unapologetic advocate for a life of less stuff, and he wasnt alone. Further research revealed there were literally millions of people who shared similar values, who were saying no, doing less, and letting go. Whats more, they were saying that this life of less stuff, less stress, fewer obligations, and fewer pressures was actually a life of moremore time, more energy, more freedom, more joy, more presence, more connection, and more health.

As I sat in my cluttered office late that night, illuminated by the blue light of my computer monitor, my family sleeping nearby and my coffee cold next to me, I realized I wanted to be one of these people. I wanted to find a life of more on the other side of less.

Over the next twelve months, my husband Ben and I decluttered stuff with a tenacity wed previously reserved for acquiring it. We let go of more than twenty thousand items from our home that year (yes, I kept track) and many thousands more over the subsequent years. (I stopped counting because it was quickly becoming a new, albeit different, obsession with our stuff.)

We slowly started making other changes too and regained our weekends by learning to say no, do less, and embrace the lost art of downtime. We reined in the mindless spending by questioning our wants versus our needs and began reevaluating what it meant to live a successful life. We started sketching out a long-term plan for self-employment, which included shuttering my jewelry business and letting go of the relentless hustle Id convinced myself was necessary. We rediscovered contentment by turning to gratitude and living in the present more often. And gradually, we realized we didnt want to be the Joneses. In fact, we didnt even like them very much. So we opted out. And while imperfect and still evolving, weve never been more at peace.