From Spacious to Simple: My Journey to Finding “Just Enough”
I never imagined I’d end up in a 600-square-foot home and feel completely fulfilled. But after years of chasing bigger spaces and the illusion that more square footage meant a better life, I discovered something surprising: Less was exactly what I needed.
Over the course of two decades, I lived in homes that were 2,000 square feet and larger. They were filled with furniture, forgotten items, and clutter I didn’t need. But it wasn’t until I went through three significant downsizes each one more dramatic than the last that I finally understood what I truly valued. Today, in my compact but cozy space, I have room to breathe, time to focus, and clarity that I’d never known before.
The Belief That Bigger Equals Better
Growing up, I absorbed a belief that’s all too common: the bigger your house, the more successful you are. And with success comes happiness or so I thought.
My childhood homes were never small. I always had my own bedroom and a generous backyard to play in. From the outside, it looked like an ideal upbringing. But even then, I longed for more. I saw larger homes on TV or in wealthier neighborhoods and dreamed of someday having something just as grand.
When I inherited money after my father’s passing, I used it to buy my first home as an adult a brand-new, two-story house with three bedrooms and 2,400 square feet. I was 22 years old. I rented the extra rooms to college friends, and we filled the place with hand-me-down furniture and all the odds and ends our parents didn’t want anymore. It was a patchwork of secondhand things and sentimental clutter.
By the time I left that house at age 25, I’d had enough. I downsized significantly and vowed, “Never again.” Never again would I live in a space that felt more like a storage unit than a sanctuary.
Forgetting My Own Wisdom
Twelve years later, I broke my own promise. Life had changed I had a child and a partner and I convinced myself that bigger made sense for our growing family. That’s how we ended up in a 2,900-square-foot house.
I wasn’t excited about the size. Deep down, I knew I’d be the one responsible for cleaning it, organizing it, and managing the ever-growing mountain of stuff. But when the smaller houses we looked at were nearly the same price, we thought, Why not get more space for our money?
And so, predictably, we filled it up closets, drawers, rooms we didn’t even use regularly. The downstairs became a clutter zone for seasonal decorations, old toys, and things we bought thinking we’d use them “someday.”
Divorce and the First Step Toward Less
Two years later, that life unraveled. I found myself in the middle of a divorce, once again saying those familiar words“Never again.”
This time, I moved with my daughter into a 900-square-foot townhouse. Space became a luxury I could no longer afford. So I downsized again donating, selling, and letting go of whatever I could. Still, I brought too much with me. I couldn’t part with certain things, like the teapot we’d received as a wedding gift.
Despite my efforts, that townhouse never felt like home. I spent my days doing what I called the “stuff shuffle” constantly rearranging, trying to make everything fit. No matter how I tried, the space never worked. After a year, I knew it wasn’t the right fit either.
The Big Move and the Biggest Letting Go
In 2025, I made the boldest decision yet: my daughter and I moved to Hawai'i to be closer to family. That move became the final catalyst in my transformation.
We were preparing to move into a 600-square-foot home our smallest yet and shipping everything across the ocean wasn’t feasible. So I reduced everything we owned to fit inside a 150-cubic-foot container.
This wasn’t just about decluttering; it was about emotional detachment. I sifted through old high school yearbooks, keeping only a handful of photos. I let go of dusty boxes filled with heirlooms and memorabilia. I even cried over the teapot I finally decided to leave behind.
I released the clothes I was holding onto for a version of myself that no longer existed, toys my daughter had outgrown, and kitchen gadgets I never used. With every item I let go, I felt lighter.
Panic, Then Peace
When we arrived and stepped into our new, tiny home, panic hit me. Was this really a fresh start, or just less? It felt like we had stripped everything away and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
But something shifted within the first few weeks. With only the essentials around me, I started to feel calmer. No visual chaos. No excessive clutter to trip over or manage.
Cleaning took just 15 minutes a day. A deep clean? One hour, tops. And suddenly, I had time real time to write, play with my daughter, and relax on the couch without guilt or stress.
I didn’t need more cabinets or new furniture. I needed space to breathe, to think, to just be. And ironically, I found that space in the smallest home I’d ever lived in.
Learning What “Enough” Feels Like
It took months to truly settle in, but something magical happened in that time: I finally felt peaceful at home. I had enough enough room, enough comfort, enough quiet.
Sure, I sometimes miss the large vanity, the separate bathroom, or the sprawling couch from my old homes. But those comforts came with a cost constant stress, endless chores, and a feeling that it was never quite enough.
In this little 600-square-foot haven, I’ve found clarity. The house may be small, but it offers what I need: peace, presence, and a stronger connection with what matters most.
Downsizing isn’t just about reducing square footage. It’s about redefining what enough means for you. For me, enough meant letting go of things I thought defined me and discovering the freedom that comes with simplicity.
In a world that tells us bigger is better, I’ve found a quieter truth: sometimes, the smallest spaces hold the biggest joys.
