As a self-proclaimed yet to be verified minimalist, I participate in various money-saving ventures. Many of my lifestyle choices are defaults into how a minimalist saves money.
Minimalists strive to keep only those things that serve a purpose. They have everything they need for daily life without being surrounded by all the possessions they “may” need one day or the junk they’ve become emotionally attached to.
The benefits of minimalism are not limited to being able to clean the house faster. Being a minimalist can also pad your pocketbook.The Ascent
Tiny, gradual adjustments have become impressive growth like compound interest or a questionable mole that suddenly appeared.
A Simple Mindset
A tightness in my chest as my lungs are constricted by the items on an ever-revolving to-do list. It’s an unpleasant feeling of having too much to do with too little time. In a warped way, I self-prescribe stress with the frequent nuances that are added to the list: go grocery shopping, call the doctor’s office, and cut hair.
The minimalist mindset saves sanity and takes stress to the curb with all the other trash. Things need to be accomplished, which is my adulting duty, but rarely do I need to sacrifice sanity (the default mode). Who forced me to learn French, the piano, and investing all at once?
No one but me.
I adopted a simple mindset to take indigestion out of daily life. The beauty of minimalism is that it removes all the clutter, up to and including items on a to-do list. The goal: do less. Am I sluffing off adulting? Yes. Am I trying to live a life that doesn’t involve a daily dose of Tums? Yes!
It’s not that I am dumping everything, but I am limiting what I trying to accomplish. Or when caffeine is coursing through my brain, in an hour.
Minimalism is about scrapping away what isn’t important to give growing space for what is. Having one less ulcer-inducing day is a way a minimalist saves money on therapy bills.
I have less stuff than I used to. At one point, I had six containers of stuff and pieces of furniture that lived at my parents’ house.
They were kind enough to bring it with them as they moved all over the country. Eventually, I went through the clothes, art, and handheld souvenirs and left with a fraction of what I started with. After years of storage, the stuff felt like a well-aged burden instead of a well-aged bourbon.
A distinct low point with the saga of stuff.
Nowadays, my life is much more barren. A statement that may cause depression for a hoarder, but hold the Valium! It was decluttering by choice. It started gradually and became a practice, not a conclusion.
I love having less because it’s less to clean, fix, and pay square footage for. White space highlights what’s left, which has been whittle down to what I love.
My sister’ vibrant artwork, a travel shrine of pictures and art collected from other countries, and a large sign that directs wizards to the nearest owl post and Leaky Cauldron are focus pieces for my suburban structure.
Less has resulted in a life brimming with richness, warmth, and ample room for juggling.
Fewer responsibilities is a big part of how a minimalist saves money. It keeps living simple like camping but with WIFI and running water.
Everything has a cost, time, energy, money, or the Godzilla option: all of the above. I try to craft a life that includes the basics with an extra nibble. I spend a bulk of energy at work, blogging, friend and family relationships, and a to-do list that acts like a six-year-old terrorist.
Groups, organizations, and chat rooms could enhance my human potential but the thought adds a frazzle not seen since the Muppets Show.
Work has been increasingly hectic and during-work workouts have become after-work. I have little choice but to put library books on hold. I am unable to give reading the proper time it deserves. Instead, I have temporarily unsubscribed. There are seasons to life, and the current season is a Category 5 hurricane named El Nino.
This small effort has brought more focus to what’s left. I am choosing quality over quantity. I would rather have a like-it-sized Birthday Cake ice cream than a large, bland soft serve.
Birthday Cake ice cream, I choose you!
I eat the same things frequently. Carrots, onions, peppers, spinach, and mushrooms, get a starring role in the morning dish of scrambled eggs and the dinner entrée. Lunch is leftovers or a burrito. Less variety seems boring, yet I am far from bored.
Having simplified food options is another way a minimalist saves money. Grocery shopping is brief since the same items are bought weekly. Vegetable intake is at an all-time high. Outside of the meat factor, I know the array of veggies that will accompany every meal, from spaghetti and lasagna to stir fry and fried rice. It takes standard meals and turns them into a healthy, easier, and cheaper lifestyle.
Some of my earliest memories are of shopping with Grandma. She is a woman of select tastes including shopping and watching soap operas. The point of this awkward oversharing is that I grew up believing that when I left the house, I had to return with something. And a morbid fascination with other people’s drama.
It was a long, slow, painful process to break the consumption cycle. It began slowly, built momentum over time with each awkward experience of leaving a store empty-handed. Every time I leave the store without buying anything, all I can think is, “Act natural. I’m innocent.”
Outside of vacations, I avoid shopping. Groceries are weekly mandatory events. All other shopping is avoided because I prefer money in my bank account where it’s mingling with interest. A minimalist saves money by buying less and saving more!
Less Is More
Like an episode of Naked and Afraid, less is more. The less I have emphasizes what’s left. Space showcases what I value. Similar to how an art gallery is barren except for the two-dimensional burst of paint. Space is neutral until it’s filled with beauty or a large sign that directs a wayward wizard to the nearest Platform 9 3/4.
How do you save as a minimalist? Do you subscribe to less is more annually, monthly, or weekly?