You’re Allowed to Want a Simple Life

Learning how to appreciate mine without apology has made a world of difference.

When I was a kid, I never understood why other kids my age couldn’t wait to grow up, become adults, and do all the things adults do. Most of the adults I knew, including my parents, seemed miserable. They loathed their jobs and seemed to hate going to work. They complained about their kids and — in most cases — their spouses, too. They went on and on about how expensive everything was and how sick to death they were of paying so many bills.

As a kid, the solution seemed really simple to me. I wondered why people didn’t just choose not to have kids if parenthood sucked so bad or why they spent so much money on things they didn’t seem to need or want. And why not choose a different job and a nicer spouse if you didn’t like the ones you had? I was just a kid, so I didn’t get that life is a lot more complicated than that. But I also knew something was wrong with a life that left no room for happiness or contentment.

That’s probably why when grown-ups asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d talk more about the things I didn’t want. I’d tell people I wasn’t having kids when they’d talk about me being a mom “someday.” And when asked what kind of job I’d like to have, I would say I didn’t want one — that I wished there was a way I could earn money at home instead of spending all day at one of these offices that sounded like such awful places.

And adults would laugh at me and tell me that’s not how life works. You picked out a life from a pre-established set of acceptable choices, and then you stuck with it for the rest of your days, even if you hated it. Because if you didn’t do everything on the list, other people might not think you’re as good as they are. And I remember thinking… so, what?

You’re allowed to think less is more.

At this point, I’ve been up, and I’ve been down in life. I’ve been through periods where I had plenty of disposable income to throw around, and I’ve been through really lean periods where I was pretty poor and had to watch where every penny was going. Sometimes I’ve had lots of material possessions to point to, but other times I’ve had next to nothing.

Having more didn’t make me any happier. It didn’t change much about how I chose to spend my time, either. I’ve always been a relatively simple, very introverted person who likes staying home and reading or watching movies with my husband. I didn’t go out more or travel constantly when I had more money. I upgraded my computer, started filling the fridge with better food, and subscribed to services I wanted without worrying so much about what they cost.

In other words, I didn’t go out and buy myself a new life or try to impress anyone. I enhanced the quality of the reasonably simple life I already enjoyed living. If anything, I’m happier with fewer “things” and less space to fill. There’s less to clean, less to organize, and less to lug with you when and if you ever decide to move.

You’re allowed to throw away the imaginary checklist.

I was the type of person who avoided every single one of my high school reunions after graduation, mainly because I didn’t feel like my life measured up to everyone else’s. I was personally OK with the way my life had turned out, but I didn’t want to have to repeatedly explain to people why I’d never had children, bought a home, or gone out and buckled down at a “real” job like everyone else.

Then one of my former schoolmates died suddenly of pneumonia, and an old friend asked me to come with her to the funeral for moral support. I knew I’d probably be running into many old classmates for the first time in twenty years, but I also figured all that “what’s your life like” bullshit wouldn’t come up much in that type of setting. I was wrong. But thankfully, I was also wrong about what people would think of me and my life.

Everyone thought it was cool that I’d moved around a lot by choice over the years instead of staying put in my hometown the way they had. They thought it was downright awesome that I was a full-time working writer who made my entire living out of my home. They didn’t really care that I didn’t have kids or a mortgage, and some of them even seemed to think I was lucky not to have those things.

Nobody side-eyed me or had that concerned “oh you poor thing” look on their face. In fact, everyone seemed to think my life sounded pretty dope and that I was downright cool for not growing out of the independence and creativity that were my standout traits as a young person. That’s when I realized there’s no one right way you have to live your life to be considered a “real” adult. There are only ways that are right (or wrong) for you.

You’re allowed not to want to work your life away.

“I deserve it, because I work hard for what I have.”

That’s a phrase I’ve steadily grown to hate hearing over the years, whether it’s coming out of my mouth or someone else’s. I hate it because it implies that if you don’t work yourself so hard, you’re in a constant state of exhaustion, you haven’t earned the right to a halfway decent life. You certainly don’t deserve time off or any happiness.

That is perhaps the biggest, most toxic lie people are fed when they’re still young — that if you don’t spend an ungodly number of hours toiling away in a cubicle somewhere to make someone else rich, you’re “less than.” You don’t deserve to be able to pay your bills, feed your family, or afford things you need. And you better not even think about spending any of your money or time on fun.

Now, if you want to be a workaholic because that’s your jam, that’s one thing. But you have a right to enjoy a balanced life that’s about more than some job somewhere. If life’s taught me anything, it’s that a so-called “good” job and a steady paycheck aren’t worth much without time and space to enjoy them. What good is a big home you never spend time in… or piles of money to fund vacations you never take?

It’s also very possible to earn the money you need to live without destroying your health or exchanging countless hours of your life for the right to stay alive.

Learning to work smarter instead of harder is one of the better things I’ve ever done. I’m not rich, and I may well never be. But I can take care of myself. I also make my living doing work I’m proud of and that fits comfortably into the rest of my life. I have time to spend with my husband, learn about things that interest me, and enjoy all the things I love to do. I’m not going to wind up on my death bed one day feeling like I let life pass me by. That’s everything.

You don’t have to justify living the life you want to anyone.

You don’t have to justify it to your parents, and you don’t have to justify it to society in general. Yes, it’s essential to be able to provide for yourself and — if you have one —a family. But how you do that is up to you. So is the life you build for yourself and the people you choose to fill it with (or not). You have options these days. Explore them.

Looking back on my life so far, I realize it’s the little things that have meant the most to me, and maybe that’s as it should be.

It’s having a professional life that comes with enough freedom to allow me to cook a homemade dinner for my family every night. It’s choosing to eat outside with my husband when the weather’s nice or taking a minute to appreciate the birds that come hang out in our yard this time of year. It’s having time at the end of my day to write in my journal or enjoy a couple of installments of whatever video course I’m working on at the moment.

I don’t need a packed social schedule, or a ton of glamorous friends, or an expensive car I never drive sitting in my driveway. I need peace, quiet, creativity, and meaningful connections with kindred spirits who get me. It’s OK if that’s “all” you want, too, and it’s OK if it’s not. It’s your call.

A simpler life starts with a few small choices.

I didn’t get to where I am now all at once. Simplifying my life is something I did little by little, one step at a time. Eventually, it became a habit — something I did instinctually whenever it was time to make new choices — but everyone has to start somewhere. Here are a few suggestions.

• Break up with “busy.” Sometimes busyness can’t be avoided, but don’t invite it into your space when it doesn’t need to be there. Simple lives leave room to think, breathe, and be. Stop rushing through yours. You miss a lot that way.
• Actively declutter your life. Less really is more. Work on letting go of things you don’t need or want anymore, whether that means giving old clothes that no longer fit to charity or letting go of outmoded belief systems and toxic relationships that don’t serve you anymore.
• Pad your schedule. One of the best ways to make sure you have time for everything you need and want to do is to be generous with your time allotments. Schedule more time to do things than you’ll likely need. If you do turn out to need it, it’s there for you. If not, then you have extra room in your schedule to work ahead or to spend on something else you enjoy.
• Say “no” more often. Simplifying your life means placing a higher value on your time in and of itself. If you’re constantly giving yours away to people you don’t care about and things you don’t want to do, there’s less to devote to what and who really matters.
• Fall in love with doing nothing. The society we live in isn’t comfortable with free time —actual chunks of time that are indeed free with nothing scheduled. And that’s too bad because it’s a beautiful thing. It leaves room for so much possibility. Try leaving more of your own time unscheduled and see what happens.

Not everyone is cut out for a hectic life or can handle being crazy busy all the time. If you’re not, you can choose right now to stop apologizing for it. It is possible to build the kind of life you want and live it more or less on your own terms. It’s also well worth it, and you have little to lose by giving it a try.