We now live in a two-bedroom house in Southeast England. A considerable difference from the one-bedroom, borderline studio apartment we lived in for nine years.
And there have been some huge developments these past six weeks.
Our spare room is now a functional office, with a sofa bed and numerous books (we need to declutter these books at some point.) Our bedroom is constantly being rearranged to find the best way to make it functional for both of us.
The work is a matter of progress.
But we are settling into the new environment and finding it to be a dramatic and pleasant change from our previous home.
What I have noted in the last month is I seem to have developed an almost xenophobic attitude towards clutter. And the fear of filling our home with numerous items that we do not need is often on the back of my mind.
Nevertheless, we are actually decluttering more than we are obtaining and keeping to our minimalist standards.
It seems to be the case that there is always something to do in the house, something to have to sort out or some necessity to buy. For instance, we need to get a second mattress cover today. And the wardrobe that we wish to build still remains outstanding.
Often, I like a challenge. The feeling of working towards bigger and greater goals.
But there is always the risk of doing too much.
I recently decided is that enough has been achieved over the last few months. The past few days have not felt like days off. They have felt like task after task, job after job and idea after idea.
Essentially, I have been overdoing it and attempting to cram in every possible task that can be done, without pause for thought of the following – is this helpful for me right now?
I have just been out for a run. So simple. A mile in 10 minutes. I am trying to build the habit of exercising each day, because I notice how good it is for my well being and health in general. Of course, I already knew this.
But I have now decided on my next block of days off to do no further on work on the house – but work on myself. By trying to overfill my schedule, I run the risk of burnout and overflowing my pot of tolerance. Enough has been achieved at this point to call it a pleasant win. Our lives are moving forward in a most positive manner, and this is where I need to call a gentle halt to trying to do too much, too quickly.
Afterall, we literally have years to get the place to look how we want it. So, why am I chasing this idea of perfection, this idea of attempting to get further afield.
Because comparison, which we have accidentally been doing since we moved in, is the thief of happiness.
The message, to myself and you, is slow down.