Get What You Want by Saying No

I just got back from a cruise to Alaska with my husband a few weeks ago. The weather was wonderful, we ate amazing food, and saw pristine, untouched land that looked like nowhere else. We saw wildlife and passed by walls of green forests with waters tainted by a three-thousand-year-old glacier. We smelled the freshest spruce air and experienced it all on and off a boat. It was unspeakably beautiful. 

Cruising is a great way to see what you want to see, and a lot of it. It also means I know where I can get food at any time, and I know where I’ll lay my head at the end of every day. These are two constants that stay with me as I navigate and explore each port stop.

The not-so-great thing about a cruise is the quantity of food and drink. I know; it sounds like I’m contradicting myself. But it's not the availability that flummoxes me; it’s how much is available, as in, overdoing a good thing. I knew it would be trouble for me. I live a rather regimented lifestyle with my diet, yet I also knew it would be a nice change and a chance to enjoy foods I don’t normally eat.

But, as the week progressed, the amount of food I ate staggered me. I normally don’t eat much breakfast, but here I was sitting down to a fine dining breakfast because I could. I had extra drinks, extra rolls with each meal (when I normally don’t eat bread!), dessert with every dinner and sometimes every lunch. It was fun. Vacation is a time for going off the diet! But, it’s also an outrageous way to live. 

By the end of the week, I remember sitting down in pain, watching people walk by as we headed back to our starting port of Seattle. I was so full! And I realized that I would have to go back to my old diet not only because I needed to, but also for my health and to feel better. Being too full all the time was physically hurting me. 

I’m sure everyone who passed me was full, just like me, because we wanted to get our money’s worth. But was it worth it? I knew that to get back to feeling normal again, I was going to have to say no. Say no to foods that don’t work with my autoimmune disease, say no to foods to get back to my normal weight, and say no to sweets that I had so religiously avoided for years. 

I thought about that and realized it was the answer to getting everything I wanted. Say no. If I wanted to write that book, I would have to carve out time every day and say no to other things during that time. If I wanted to be in shape, I would have to say no to sitting and instead move. If I wanted to be a minimalist, I would have to say no to bringing excess into my home.

This mindset goes against a book I read about saying yes to everything. An introvert started saying yes to everything (mostly social things), for a year, and doors opened for her. And that’s great! Especially when you’re used to saying no. 

I can appreciate the concept, but in the end, saying yes to everything doesn’t work for me; it doesn’t make me feel whole or healthy. I say yes to what works in my life, but I can’t say yes to every commitment, or I will burn out. 

Saying no is in the best interest of my health and well-being, especially as a minimalist. We can’t do it all without suffering the consequences. If I say yes to every social commitment, it means I’m saying no to something else. Period. There’s no way around that. Same with bad versus good food, or buying versus not buying.

So, why say no? Here are a few reasons why I have to say no to most things in my life to get a few good yesses.

I’m saying no to excess: Imagine if I said yes to everything I wanted. Every piece of clothing, every fun pair of shoes, every book, every new piece of house decor. My home would be overflowing. As it is, it’s still overflowing, and I practice minimalism. There comes a point when I have to say no, not only because I don’t need it, but to say no to the desire to consume. We’re used to this: the desire to purchase for the sake of purchasing. We can live with less. We need less than we think we need, and it starts by walking out of the store with nothing extra, closing the app, and, perhaps, not shopping online at all.

I’m saying no to bad health: Saying no to dessert, saying no to second helpings, saying no to a breakfast I don’t normally eat, these are all the things I need to do to keep myself in my best health. Nothing wrong with having a treat, but if I want to remain healthy as I age, there is no way that’s attainable by eating whatever I want, whenever I want. I will have to say no and say no a lot to foods that won’t help with this. It’s not fun to think about, but it’s the only way to good health.

I’m saying no to laziness: No one wants to be reminded that we fight against laziness, but it’s in our construct to want to do the easy thing, to take the wide gate, to go down hills, not trudge up them. I took up running again, after a few years off, and wow does it show! I’m slow, it hurts, and I have no idea if I’ll ever be as fast as I was before. So, what’s kicking me out of bed twice a week to do it? The only thing is me knowing that I have to fight against aging to stay healthy. No one else will do it for me. We atrophy what we don’t use. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, it’s up to me to keep those muscles strong.

Saying no is not fun, it’s not easy, and usually, there is little to show for all the effort… until later. But, little by little is where it’s at. It’s the slow accrual, like interest, that seems inconsequential at the time, that becomes a huge investment reaping dividends. For me? Those rewards are good health, the minimalistic lifestyle I long for, and a disciplined life.

While this cruise was spectacular, and I’m all for going off the normal diet on vacations, there is a reason I say no most of the time: it’s no to excess, it’s no to bad health, and it’s no to laziness. Fighting against my human self is something I have to do daily, and with every small choice I make. And simply by saying no to the donut and yes to the walk, or no to the pair of shoes I don’t need, that’s where I win… one step at a time.

Experiences over Stuff: When My Children Teach Me about Simple Living

Every week, my sweet youngest son calls me. 

He lives on the other side of the country from me with his wife, so as he's driving home from work, he calls me, because I am his mother, and a mom wants to know how their boy is doing. He humors me and calls me because I miss him so much, and I'd like to think he misses me, too.

We talk a lot about his work, what else he's doing, how his wife is, what she's doing, and, most recently, I asked him what his wife wanted for her upcoming birthday. He couldn't think of anything, so I told him that was fine, and I'd ask her instead. Surely, she would give me an idea.

His wife is lovely and perfect for him, and she sweetly told me - in complete and utter honesty - that she has everything she wants and sincerely wants for nothing. She has her husband, is doing what she loves from home, and literally wants nothing.

This astounded me. Not because I was hard pressed to give her something (I was), but because how had a soon-to-be 21-year-old become so content and wise?

Apparently, they have figured out the "owning less and living more" thing early on. And in a way, she's teaching me how to live. So, while I don't have to tell her and my son to accumulate less and instead acquire experiences - because that is indeed what they're already doing - it reminded me that not all young people are consumers.

It was refreshing and beautiful. And in simple terms, this is how they're doing it:

They live for each other - My son goes to work, leaving home, and she goes to work from home. She is also so happy to make meals, clean the home, and do the laundry - as well as work - for him as equally as he is happy to work for her. It's this symbiotic beauty where their lives are devoted to each other, and that's the core of their happiness: to serve each other. There's a lot of fulfillment happening there.

Experiencing life, not stuff, for happiness - Their happiness is not derived from things. She'll cook a meal, or they'll occasionally go out for a meal, or spend time talking together, going for walks, playing games, or going to the gym together. The highlight of their day isn't shopping on Amazon or at an outdoor mall. Of course, they buy a few fun things. But, it's on the side of rare when it does happen. Instead, their day's highlight is being together, doing slow-living things like cooking, creating, and laughing. 

Wanting less creates a contentment loop - Starting their marriage appreciating what they already have, and not wanting for excess (they, of course, will want and need some things, like saving up for a new car for her, a house, etc.) has already taught them how to live for the important things in life: family, friends, and simple living. They're not even interested in who the Joneses are, or what they're doing. They're busy being connected and content with each other and living with little, using what God gave them. God can't help but bless that.

My daughter-in-law did tell me, since she loves to bake and cook, that a few small kitchen items would come in handy. So, gratefully, I can get her something she can use (that doesn't inundate their home). But just getting her to tell me what she wanted felt like I was asking for a list of bad habits! They're content with what they have. Right now. As young twenty-somethings.

Isn't that the most amazing place to be? 

After hearing all of this and seeing their lack of desire for "stuff," it only reinforces my minimalist lifestyle. Because I want to be there, too. Their joy is making the simple things of life extraordinarily beautiful and fun. They romanticize the everyday things: that cup of coffee, reading a chapter out of a favorite book, snuggling on the sofa. They've figured life out by focusing on the things that really matter.

They're making magic out of less, and creating a world of happiness that no one - or no thing- can take credit for but themselves. 

Live Simply

May: This is the time of year when a million things happen, whether you like it or not.

My kids are grown and have left the nest, but that doesn't matter. I thought I'd have fewer activities to do, and yet, I'm still busy. I have family and friends' graduations, there are baby showers and weddings to attend, and there are birthday parties and dinner parties to go to.

Even if they're your own party.

I turn fifty this year, and while it's not that big of a deal, what is a big deal is the way I've changed what I want to do. The things of yesterday (like the last decade) don't seem that important. I still love writing, reading, and being involved in the vintage clothing industry, but maybe there are other things I should be doing.

Every day is a gift, and I was soberly reminded of that just a few weeks ago when a good friend of mine's husband passed away in his sleep. He was young and had years more to live. But we don't get a memo to tell us when that day arrives. God simply tells us our time is up and takes the breath from our lungs. That's it. 

We just have to be ready. 

And that's where I want to be from now on. Ready. Am I doing the things that bring value? Am I wasting my time? Do people matter more than things?

I wrote a little more in-depth about this subject as a guest writer on the No Sidebar website, which is a community of minimal-living writers and readers. But I wrote it before my friend's husband passed away, and it truly made me take what I said to heart. With his death and my impending milestone birthday, I'm rethinking what matters.

My wonderful friend just gave me this beautiful mug for my birthday. And it's a great reminder of what my daily goal is: to live simply. By doing that, I can focus on what matters, care for those who really need it, and stop wasting my time with things that will be useless and pointless when I'm gone. 

Live simply, but live fully, my friends. 

Let Go to Get What You Want

Last year, around the middle of the summer, I decided I wanted to downsize my online vintage shop. It had been fifteen years of doing this wonderful work (one that I, quite honestly, wouldn't call work), and I wanted to lessen my inventory. I wanted to minimize my work; to practice what I preached. Have less and be happier.

What would this accomplish? It would mean a little less work for me and a focus in my shop on better-quality items, rather than a bunch of lower-quality items. In essence, quality over quantity. It would mean more time doing more of what I wanted with less time in my shop. And with my husband only a couple of years away from retirement, it would mean perhaps a little more time spent with him and traveling.

But something strange happened. I, the minimalist of all minimalists, instead of editing my shop down to a smaller number, added to it. I couldn't let go, I couldn't do it! Sure, I got rid of a few items that I was sick of seeing in my shop (that hadn't sold), but the rest of it? It was too daunting a task. It felt like too much of an investment that I was just going to throw away. There were far too many decisions to make. So, I kept it mostly the same... and added to it instead.

It astounded me. I failed in the very area I knew how to change.

After the holiday season (the best time in sales for me during this time of year), I hunkered down and basically doubled down on my initial decision to make my shop smaller with fewer but better items. I'm four months into the new year, and I'm still downsizing. But I have gotten things where they need to be, and where I wanted them to be last year. And it all came down to my fear of letting go.

If you're in the same boat (perhaps letting go of things in your closet, or your home), then let me tell you how sympathetic and understanding I am. It really is hard. But here's how you can do it, and do it slowly so it doesn't feel like you're drowning in decisions, which was why I was paralyzed into downsizing.

One section at a time: I have so many categories of items in my store; rather than eliminating everything I didn't want at once, I did it one section at a time. So, for example, I went through my sweaters, kept the ones I wanted, and either eliminated some or put other items on sale so that I would procure some profit from my initial investment. Then, I did the other sections over the course of a few months. The items I eliminated were either donated, given away to friends or family, or even kept for myself. If your closet overwhelms you, do one section at a time. It really takes the pressure off to have it all done now.

Keep what you love: I cannot stress this enough. When I was eliminating items from my online shop, I realized the pieces I was getting rid of were items I didn't even like! So, I was buying these items in the hopes of selling them. And then ended up not selling them. This hurt me and my bottom line. The truth is, if I've bought an item I didn't like, my enthusiasm for the piece is minimal, and I know it shows up (my lack of enthusiasm) in the description of the item. The same applies to you and your closet. Keep only what you love, because, even if you paid for the piece and it sits in your closet, if you don't like it on you, it's only going to stay stuck in your closet. Get rid of what you don't love and instead keep only what you do.

Quality over quantity: Would you believe it if I told you that my sales are even better with fewer items? I'm shocked, even though I knew it would work. It's almost as if the idea of quality over quantity is true. (Ha, of course it is!) But, getting myself mentally in a position to go through with this idea - and not regret that what I've given away was lost revenue - is where the truth of it all lies. You have to let go to get what you truly want. I gave up an "image" of having a successful shop to actually have a successful shop with the values of what I believed in: that less is more. As it applies to your closet or home, keep the best, replace with the best, and invest in quality classic clothing items over mass-produced, inexpensive items (ones that you will have to replace a whole lot sooner). Instead, you will be perpetually in style with a happy wallet.

Sometimes getting to the place we need to be is hard. Even when we know what to do. But don't despair. Take it one section at a time, keep what you love, and choose quality items over quantity. And if you're like me - even if my good intentions took a long time to materialize - you can get what you want, which is a simple, minimal life filled only with the things you love, that make you happy, and that you can use.

The Minimalist Collector

Minimalism and collecting. Is this even possible?

I think about this concept. A lot. Because it's part of what I do for a living. I am a vintage clothing reseller, and I have an online shop on Etsy, where I sell vintage. I've been doing this for years, and it's pretty much an integral part of my life now. I'm in search of "stuff," very specific vintage stuff, mind you, when I source items for my shop, because that's what I need, and that's what sells.

And the things I'm looking for are a bit rarer than the average reseller who sells modern clothing. So, it's easy to get into a collector mindset when the items I'm looking for are more unusual. I want to get the rare, special, and valuable things as do all vintage dealers and collectors.  But this often means my "Maybe I should just hold onto this" turns into, "Look at my new collection!"

Yet, it's all just "stuff," at the end of the day. 

Which is precisely why my minimalist mind shoots daggers at the collecting side of my brain during my shopping. But I also want to have a full, diverse, interesting life. Collections create joy, if you will. It's why people collect, after all. It's a way to say, "I find this important, so I want to treasure hunt for this for as long as possible." There's a happiness aspect of it that's addictive. A huge amount of dopamine is released when a treasure hunter finds something that they're looking for.

And while I sell vintage, I also love, wear, and collect it. It will always be a part of my life, from what I wear to the vintage kitchenware I eat out of, and to my furniture and decor. 

But I'm a minimalist, too. So, how does this work? How can it work? 

It works for several reasons, but I'm going to warn you from the start. It requires saying "no" a lot and saying "yes" selectively. I said it was possible, but it wouldn't be easy. Here's what I do as both a collector and a minimalist.

Fewer Better Collections: This is one of the hardest things I had to do when confronted with the reality that I had too much stuff. Collections of toys, dinnerware, belts, books, mugs... You name it, I probably had a variation of some collection of it. That's what happens when you start collecting as a teenager! And don't get me wrong... so much joy has come of it. But ten years ago, I realized continuing my collections wasn't sustainable. Meaning, who would move all of this when I retired? What will I do with it if I move? Store it just to collect dust? I knew something (a lot, actually) had to change when I became a minimalist and I got rid of most of the collections, except a choice few. Those few still bring me great joy, and I'm okay with having a small space dedicated to those few collections, rather than an overflowing house of half-hearted collections.

Make It Usable: Have a utilitarian collection? You might want to hold on to it. That's the measure I used to decide what to keep and what to give away (or sell). I collect vintage Pyrex, but I also use it every day. Can I use all of it at once? No, of course not. But I absolutely rotate through the pieces, using what I can, as often as I can. Another thing I love to collect is vintage mugs. I know that's a big no-no in the minimalist world, and I've downsized that to as few as I can, but I still have a good half dozen mugs I adore and enjoy my coffee out of every morning. They bring me joy, too. Here's the takeaway: both collections are usable. If you have a usable collection, maybe it's a keeper. Is it a dust collector? Perhaps that's one you might want to eliminate.

Be Ready to Give it Away: How do you know if you have a collection or if a collection has you? Very simply, ask yourself this: How easy would it be for me to give it away if someone asked for a part of it? Over the years, this has been an exercise I try to live out. If someone loves a mug I have, I can easily give it away (I'll find another). If someone loves a pattern of my Pyrex, then maybe it needs to be theirs, not mine? Out of my abundance, I can give. And no doubt, it always gets replaced by more. There's a reason God talks a lot about giving in the Bible. It brings joy to others, it brings joy to ourselves, and it keeps our hearts off of "stuff" and onto more important things. And the bonus is that when you give, you will receive back. It never fails because that's God's law: Give, and it will be given to you (Luke 6:38).

I will always be fighting the urge to keep and collect. It's in me forever, and I'm surrounded by things I love because I've made it my work. But that doesn't mean I need to collect everything. There's a time and place for everything, and for me, when I became a minimalist, I knew I'd have to pare down the collections and let others enjoy my accumulated excess.

I do believe you can be both a minimalist and a collector, but you have to be an intentional collector to allow both sides to coexist peacefully.