A Work in Progress
No One Starts With It All Figured Out
If you’re looking for a blog written by someone who’s already mastered minimalist living… you’re probably in the wrong place.
We’re not “on the other side” of consumerism, waving you over from some perfect version of life where the junk drawers stay empty and emotional spending never happens. We’re still in it—with you. Still fumbling toward freedom. Still unlearning. Still slipping up and remembering what matters all over again.
This isn’t a how-to manual. It’s more like a travel journal from the road. Sometimes the entries are hopeful. Sometimes they’re raw. But every one of them is honest. Because what we need most in this process isn’t more curated perfection—it’s proof that you don’t have to be perfect to begin.
When we first started trying to change, we thought it would look like slow, linear improvement: fewer purchases, fewer distractions, fewer regrets. But real change? It’s messier than that. There are days we still impulse buy something that made us feel “productive” in the moment. Days we scroll for hours before realizing it left us emptier, not calmer. Days when the pressure to look like we’ve figured it out tempts us to stop trying altogether.
But we haven’t stopped. And neither have you. And that’s something.
What This Blog Isn’t
There’s no polished aesthetic here. No white walls with eucalyptus sprigs in handcrafted ceramic vases. No affiliate links promising “minimalist must-haves.” No five-step checklist to enlightenment. That’s not our style. That’s not real.
We’re not here to give you another image to live up to—because consumerism has already sold us way too many of those. For years, we measured our lives against what we saw in ads, influencers, even well-meaning advice. The problem wasn’t that we didn’t want to change—it was that we thought change had to look a certain way to be valid.
This blog isn’t trying to sell you a perfect version of yourself.
It’s not here to impress anyone.
It’s not even here to convince you of anything.
What we’re doing here is showing up—with the clutter, the emotional baggage, the receipts we regret—and telling the truth about it. We write these posts as a kind of compass for anyone feeling lost in the noise. Not to say, “Here’s the right way,” but to whisper, “You’re not the only one still figuring this out.”
You won’t find perfection here. But you will find company.
What This Blog Is
This blog is a notebook. A trail log. A voice memo scribbled after a long day when you almost gave up—but didn’t. It’s a living document of what it means to change your life slowly, gently, and without needing to perform that change for the internet.
We’re not here because we figured everything out. We’re here because we finally admitted that the version of life sold to us—nonstop hustle, constant upgrades, chasing “more”—was quietly draining everything that mattered. And when we tried to find real stories of what it looked like to push back, most of what we found felt… curated. Sanitized. Optimized for aesthetics, not survival.
So we started writing the kind of reflections we wished we’d found sooner: the raw ones. The uncomfortable ones. One of those early stories lives in The Drawer Moment—where a single overlooked moment cracked something open in us. The ones that admit, “Yeah, I decluttered my whole closet and still cried over an ad for shoes I didn’t need.” Or “I meal-prepped for three days and then ordered takeout because the kitchen reminded me of how lonely I felt growing up.” Or “I canceled a subscription and panicked—not because I needed it, but because I didn’t know who I was without the identity it gave me.”
This space is for that kind of truth. It’s for the versions of us that are messy and real and in motion. For the small victories and the deep spirals. For the parts of healing that aren’t photogenic—but are still holy.
What Progress Really Looks Like
Let’s be honest—progress rarely feels like progress when you’re in the middle of it.
It feels like quitting caffeine, then going back for “just one cup” after a hard week. Like unsubscribing from ten marketing emails, then adding three new ones because they offer 20% off. Like making a budget, breaking it, making it again, and breaking it in a different way.
It feels like crawling forward on some days, sprinting on others, and then spending a week face-down in bed wondering if you’re still allowed to call yourself “intentional.”
Progress doesn’t look like a straight line. It looks like a spiral—looping back through old habits with new awareness. In Survive High Costs, we talk more about how that spiral shows up in real life—especially when your nervous system is still playing defense. It’s easy to think you’re failing when you revisit the same challenges. But revisiting something doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you’re learning something deeper this time.
We’ve learned that escaping consumerism isn’t just about buying less. It’s about noticing why we want to buy in the first place. It’s about sitting with discomfort instead of soothing it with packages. It’s about realizing that restlessness, loneliness, boredom, even celebration—can all be triggers. Not because we’re weak, but because we were trained to connect every feeling to a transaction.
Sometimes “progress” is just the moment you pause before clicking “buy now.”
Sometimes it’s noticing the tension in your chest when you walk into a store with no list.
Sometimes it’s forgiving yourself after a backslide—not with shame, but with curiosity.
You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to stay awake.
That’s what we’re practicing here, one honest reflection at a time.
Progress Over Perfection Toolkit
- Notice your wins, even if they’re small.
- Give yourself permission to begin again—every day.
- Talk to yourself like someone you actually like.
- Create a simple ritual to ground yourself.
This isn’t about doing it all. It’s about staying in it, gently.
Support + Next Steps
If nothing else, we hope this post reminded you that you’re not alone in the mess of figuring things out.
You don’t need to throw everything out, unsubscribe from life, or hit some aesthetic benchmark to belong here. You belong because you’re trying. And trying counts.
If you want to keep walking this road with us, here are a couple of places to start:
And if today is a day where you just needed to hear, “You’re doing okay,”—then really, you are.
This isn’t a race. It’s a relationship. With yourself. With your stuff. With the story you’re rewriting every time you choose to show up a little differently.
We’re in it with you.
If this reflection made you feel seen, you might also appreciate:
- Can’t Afford Happiness — on the emotional tug behind impulse spending
- Ideas vs Gatekeepers — what happens when we stop waiting for permission to begin