Minimalism: How to Become a Minimalist

By
Bekka Thomas

COPYRIGHT NOTICE
COPYRIGHT 2014 by Talent Writers ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication is
allowed to be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author. Only reviewers are
allowed to quote brief passages from this publication.

Minimalism: How to Become a Minimalist

Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
TRAPPED!
CHAPTER TWO
TOO MUCH STUFF!
CHAPTER THREE
PRODUCTIVITY AND LOVING YOUR WORK.
CHAPTER FOUR
VALUE.
CHAPTER FIVE
HOW DO I BECOME LESS?
CHAPTER SIX
WHAT I DO EVERY DAY.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HOW DO MINIMALISTS EAT?
CHAPTER EIGHT
HOW I GET MORE FOR LESS.
CHAPTER NINE
BE HAPPY, NOT BROKE.
CHAPTER TEN
WHERE I AM.

CHAPTER ONE
TRAPPED!

I was a mess.
Not just a hot mess, but a true drag-down-the-road-behind-a-car mess. My job wasnt just a deadend, it was a box canyon. I was miserable when I woke up until I went to sleep again, miserable. My
weight and blood pressure were in a contest to see which one could be higher. My weight was winning,
otherwise I would have been dead. Is that a good thing? Yea!

You know when you run down a hill and your upper body begins to fall past your feet? Your center
of balance shifts and you have to keep running or fall? Thats how my life was every single day. Worst
of all, I couldnt figure out how it got that way.

I was a property manager and I enjoyed my job when I first started. Im a problem-solver and I
enjoy working with people, but I grew to hate both primary aspects of my job.
Not just hate my job like most people do.
My hate was a bone deep hate that was all consuming and just a wee bit insane.
The customer service aspect I liked so much, turned into people whining about the same things

over and over.

I had a boss once who told me never to come to him with a problem if I didnt also have a solution.
I used to think that was silly. I could then solve it myself. Of course, that was what he was getting at;
he wanted me to at least try. I could be wrong, but he wanted me to think it through. My job was
dealing with people who didnt seem to think even the smallest problem through. Worse yet, they
constantly demonstrated that they lacked any kind of real perspective.

I actually had folks who demanded I check the security monitor on one building because there was
a particular squirrel that was chewing on their tire in the garage.

Not just that squirrels might be damaging their vehicle, but a certain squirrel they wanted me to
deal with.

Needless to say, I paid a different squirrel to rough the rogue up.

Another facet I loved, at the start, was troubleshooting the numerous problems that came up.
However, no matter how many times I addressed a problem, my Board of Directors at the Homeowner
Associations I handled only cared how long it took me to accomplish my task.

They never cared how well I handled it, just do it faster and faster.

Sure, they would never give me the money to fix things or replace broken items, but it was always
my fault that the work was never done.
All of the responsibility with no authority.
I used to be able to handle these unrealistic expectations, but I slowly lost the I give a damn
attitude over the several years I was a property manager.

I was working days and nights with time on the weekends, just trying to keep up. My in-box was

perpetually loaded with two hundred emails at any given time. My phone was filled with unreturned
voice-mails from homeowners demanding return calls. I couldnt figure out how to visit my
properties, attend board meetings, return emails and voice-mails, while still trying to have a bit of a
life.

I was stuffing fast food in my mouth any moment I had free as I was driving to inspections or
meetings. I tried to eat right, but that takes time I just did not have. Its easier to grab a burrito or
pizza, than to make a salad. My weight was growing, along with my blood pressure and stress. The
sodium levels alone in fast food can kill you and thats just reading the ingredient list!

I could feel myself dying inside, but I was trapped by my life and job. The more I worked, the
more I needed the job. That whole growing up with responsibilities thing sucks.
I was married to the most supportive and loving husband possible, but I was treating him badly
because I had no patience any longer.

I was a very good painter and writer, but my art was going nowhere. I couldnt get into the right
mindset and let go of the job. How can you create or even imagine something beautiful to put on a
canvas when a homeowner, or three, explained to you that you are an idiot because you allowed
earthworms to infest the property and they needed to be removed immediately? This sort of statement
would be funny, if you werent barraged with similar unrealistic demands every day.

I had a boss in the same field who would just laugh, good-naturedly, when a homeowner or board
member would treat him so horribly. Like water off a ducks back. They would call him the worst
names possible, to his face, and he would just shrug it off. I pictured him having a stroke one day from
all the repressed rage, but I think he really did have it right. He did not let the job determine who he
was or his self-worth. I could never master that particular skill and I let it all eat at me.

I was horrible to my amazing husband because of feeling so trapped. I couldnt help it, I was a rat
trapped in a cage and I couldnt get out. I started having anxiety attacks and would get so angry
because of the feeling that I had no alternatives that I could see. I was never going to be a successful
artist. I was certain I would just be that woman that died at work from a heart attack who everyone
would talk about as a cautionary tale. Like Scrooge told during the office Christmas party, but with a
whole lot more pathetic stuffed in.
No seriously, she was lying on her face with her butt straight up in the air. Probably the most
undignified position you could die in, the secretary would say, as all of the little managers huddled
together before the fire, trembling with fear.

The clincher came the day my boss asked me to take on some additional properties after I had
begged everyone in upper-management to relieve me of some problem areas.
I snapped.

It wasnt a mid-life crisis or anything violent. I didnt turn postal or buy a fancy red sports car.
A switch clicked in my head and I said, Enough.
It was the evening after a particularly rough day when I asked my husband, Do you want to move
to Portland?

We both loved the silly show Portlandia and we had joked about moving there. I cant tell you why
I asked, and I was completely and totally serious this time. I had never thought I would move to the
Pacific Northwest and I certainly did not see myself in Oregon. It was madness to get an idea like this
from a comedy show on the Independent Film Channel, but I was a woman desperately grasping for a
life-preserver as the water closed over her head.

Yes, please, he said with a smile.

Eight months later, a lot of stuff lighter, and were having the time of our lives living a minimalist
lifestyle.

CHAPTER TWO
TOO MUCH STUFF!

It wasnt until after my move to Oregon (and the frantic weeks preceding that turning point), that I
realized I was already on the minimalist path.
My life, until this point, was filled with collecting things. I collected books, art materials, papers
and notes from past/future writing projects, DVDs, and people. I know the last sounds weird, but bare
me out.

I never reached the level of hoarder, thank god! Have you seen those shows? I may not be the
tidiest person in the world, but I get skeeved out when theres a hair on my toothbrush.

How the heck could I live with rooms filled with newspapers and mummified cat carcasses?

I was a bookseller for many years and a book-lover for many more. Books defined me and saved
me as a teenager. I grew up in an Italian home where my father was a womanizing child-man. He took
care of the family, but couldnt figure out that whole love thing. He was very handicapped when it
came to showing his feelings. I was awkward, misinformed, and badly in need of direction growing
up. I had few friends and even fewer ideas on how to get them.

I turned to books for my companionship and thats when my love affair started. I sold books for

years and I used them as a demonstration piece to guests to prove I was smart and worthwhile.

I know, boo-hoo pity party for me.

Anyway, I became so attached to books that my collection reached almost 3000 at any given time.
I also had approximately 2000 DVDs, which take up a heck of a lot of space. At times, I really was
bitten by the collecting mentality and I shopped for various first editions and rare prints. I needed to
get every release of Evil Dead to complete my collection. It was a bit obsessive, time-consuming,
and cluttering. There is also the money I spent!

I really did love those books and movies, but what I loved more was what people thought when
they came into my home. How smart was I? How well rounded was I? I was so terribly interesting.
I used these props to make myself feel better and to impress people. I certainly enjoyed them, but
how many did I really read or watch?

Which books did I really enjoy and learn from? Which movies did I watch or did I just crash in
front of the TV at night?

When I moved from California to Florida, I had to ship everything by freight. I had a couple of
tons of books alone and they werent cheap!
But this is all leading to a point.
Were all different people at different places in our lives, but the core almost always remains the
same. Whether you ever discover who that core person is would be a different matter entirely.
I knew who I wanted to be, but I let so many factors, internal and external, get in the way. I was
concerned with what people thought and not what I thought. I became my job and it took over every
aspect of my life. I let the run for material possessions define me. I lost the pleasure in life.

These were some, but not all of the factors that lead to this major change in my life and the
assessment that came with it.
When I hit my snapping point at work, I also hit my snapping point with myself. I realized that I
felt trapped by everything. A move across country again felt overwhelming just considering how much
my husband and I had to pack.
Figuring out what we needed to get rid of was stressful in itself. Were we shipping everything, or
just the important stuff? Were we driving across country with a truck and the cars? What were the
logistics concerning gas and lodging with that much stuff? Was it cheaper just to buy it all again when
we got there?
Its enough to make you chuck it all and move into a monastery.

After a long conversation, my husband and I decided to do just that.

Okay, everything but the monastery.

What do you need to enjoy your life as opposed to what you want to enjoy your life? These are
two different concepts and ones I took a very long time to understand.
I started packing for the move and I was overwhelmed by every room in my two-bedroom
house. Where did it all come from? How could so much stuff get in there?

I bought, what I thought at the time, a sufficient number of boxes to pack. During the course of
the move, I went back to Home Depot six more times for more stacks of boxes.

Putting the books and DVDs aside for now, I found tons of magazines I had saved. There were
articles I hadnt had time to read when I bought them, but I put sticky notes on the spots and stored the
magazines for a quieter day.

That day never came and I had dozens of articles waiting for me. I boxed up the magazines for
recycling and vowed to never do that again. What a useless clutter.

I was really packing on the pounds at this point, so my closet was filled with clothes. Like an
archaeologist studying different earth strata for clues to an ancient civilization, my closet reflected the
different stress eating layers of my life.
I think I found something buried between The board meetings are killing me, so I need

several bean burritos STAT! strata and the Stop calling me-stop calling me-STOP CALLING ME!
layer.
Is it her dignity?
Nope, I fear that is buried much deeper!

God, I had some really nice clothes in the skinny strata.

I guess feeling out of control means, for some of us, we struggle to control the areas we can.
We use buying things as a replacement for being able to make choices. A new haircut, a new skirt,
eating out, all was meager control in an out-of-control situation. I know I felt better buying books on
art, marketing, and stress relief, but I was always disappointed when I left the bookstore.
I know how to paint, but I kept buying technique book after technique book. My library was
getting bigger, but I wasnt finding what I needed.

What I wanted to find in the book store was a book titled How to regain control of your life and
not feel like youre trapped and at the whim of everyone who seems to possess even the slightest bit of
authority over you and you can still sell your artwork with the ever so slightest slim chance of
supporting yourself by doing so.
Yeah, the title is a little too long to be catchy and I could never find this section at Barnes &
Noble.
I was surrounding myself with stuff because I felt powerful, even if only briefly, when I bought
it. My mistake was in not learning sooner to go in the opposite direction. I was using stuff as armor
when it was just anchoring me down.

I walked the two floors of our house and I really looked at everything. I just kept looking and
seeing more things.
I couldnt believe I needed all of this stuff. I couldnt remember buying all of it, let alone
putting it places. My spare room/office was packed with boxes and piles of things.

The room was useless as an office because neither my husband nor I could get into it. We
couldnt use, or even find, what was in that room. The Ark of the Covenant could have been buried
there and I would never have found it.

Ive always heard that if you havent thought about or used an item in six months you get rid of
it.
I made my decision to do just that.
Do I really need this? I kept asking myself as I packed.
I guess what I felt at my job was translating to my home - I felt trapped. Unlike the job, I was
feeling trapped by all of my things. That second bedroom was the symbol of all of those feelings.

It was to be a studio and office for my husband and I, but it was filled with so many boxes. Just
organizing it all was a Herculean task, or Sisyphean, Im not sure which is the better term.

After a hugely stressful week at work, there was no way that I wanted to tackle that room. I had
art supplies buried places and Id forgotten about them. Worst, I bought new supplies to replace what I
had not realized I already had. There was no way this chaotic dungeon was going to foster any
creativity.
I started with the little things, so I began looking through my books. The paperbacks to be
specific.

There was a lot of nostalgia buried in those pages, but there were a lot of pages filling the
boxes. I already placed my collections in moving boxes, but there were so many of them. I had to cull
them.
I started by sorting out the must keep, occasional read, and giveaways. I have to admit, I felt a
great deal of anxiety at the start, but that eased fairly quickly. I went from twelve boxes of paperbacks,
down to three.
It felt so good that I moved onto the hardbacks. I kept anything signed, but I got rid of most of

the fiction. Non-fiction was a little harder, but that ended up going along pretty smoothly. A major key
was that I spent time on Amazon replacing much of my library with ebooks and I searched online for
free versions of the classics. I could fill my account and read on my tablet or phone anywhere.
My final count concerning my library went from 21 boxes down to 9. That was a pretty
significant gain of shipping space and personal space. I felt freer than I had in some time.
I took the DVDs, bought several terabyte backup units, and started ripping my movies. It took
a while, but I managed to move most of my library onto those drives. Instead of seven boxes of DVDs,
I had one. The rest were on four backup units that take up as much room as my box set from the Lord
of the Rings.
It was this technique I learned that I could apply to most things, and I did.

CHAPTER THREE
PRODUCTIVITY AND LOVING YOUR WORK

We had resolved to get a studio space when we first moved to Portland. We both decided that six
months in a studio would give us time to get accustomed to the city and find where we wanted to live.
This was a big decision and we were moving from one corner of the country to the exact opposite
corner. Ive done this before in the past, but Ive always had a landing spot. Friends I crashed with in
LA, parents to stay with in Florida, the future husband when I went to Wisconsin, but we had no one in
Portland. Heck, no one within two states of Oregon. Needless to say, I was crazy scared. The husband,
not so much, as usual.

Sure, 400 to 500 square feet would be a terribly small living space after our two story - two
bedroom house with a fireplace and backyard, but we could adapt for a short time. We had studied up
on Portland for months to learn about our new city. We read up on the neighborhoods, the public
transit, the food, and we felt we had a grasp on what was happening there.

We were both looking to reinvent ourselves.

We wanted to live in the city instead of the suburbs, so the decision was made. We ended up with a
500 square foot studio in the center of downtown.
I cant tell you how much of a relief it was when we moved in.
All wood floors, a VERY small kitchen with doors that closed it off like a hide-a-bed, an actual
call system from the 1940s on the wall that no longer worked, and a bathroom that was a cross
between the 1930s and a school locker room.

We loved it immediately.
We were not able to ship our three pallets out yet, but I almost wanted to let them go.
I know, how wasteful!

We only had our three bags each we brought on the plane, but I found it so freeing to not have
much in our apartment.
We went to Ikea and bought a small dining room table where the extensions folded up inside. It
was a small, space-saver and I was really beginning to appreciate this feature.

We bought two desk tops with stands underneath because I was going to focus on freelance art and
writing as part of my reinvention. We also bought a small couch with a pullout full-sized bed.
Thats it.
I was really beginning to enjoy the simplicity of our surroundings. Two people in this studio
should have left me feeling cramped, but far from it. I felt free.

We had three towels and I kept my frillies and socks in one of my suitcases. I used to have shoe
boxes, shelves, hanging shelves, drawer dividers, and stretchers for shoes, gym bags, and metal
shelves in the closets. My upper closet shelves annoyed me because we kept extra stuff up there for
storage. It all felt so cluttered.

I had dozens of pairs of white socks and as many pairs of dress socks. Stockings piled up and
garters nearby. I think I had almost thirty satin camisoles filling a drawer and a half. I was constantly
weeding out stained or old items to be replaced with packages of new.
I threw out everything old and I came to Portland with one package of brand new white tee shirts
and white socks. I kept the frillies and dress socks, they never seemed to suffer as much as the whites.
Sue me, Im awful at washing the whites.
I brought four pairs of jeans, four dress pants, 4 blouses, and various tees. The rest was packed on
the pallet for shipping.

Ive never felt better about such a limited selection. The only problem is Im losing weight so fast
here that I wished I packed the smaller clothes. Poor me!

Our kitchen is small with small cup boards, but we eat out at food carts or keep minor staples in
the fridge. Yup, we eat at food carts.

The food is amazing here and the food carts are filled with the most brilliant chefs around.
Virtually everything is locally sourced, good for you, and super hearty. We live a vegetarian lifestyle
and this place just seems to cater to us. The husband and I could not afford to make food this good and
plentiful for the price we pay for it. We walk two blocks to the carts, pick out something like Indian
for the evening and bring our heaping helpings home. Did I mention Im losing a ton, maybe not
literally, of weight?

We keep some essentials in our small kitchen and fridge, like teas or fruits, but thats it.

The simplicity of our new life surprises and scares me, mostly because its working.
Also, the studio includes electric, water, and Wi-Fi.
Thats it.
So simple, clean, and freeing over the trap that was our house.
Around my desk are a few high quality posters displaying typewriters and such for inspiration. I
have postcards and art cards from various galleries tacked to my wall for more inspiration.

Thats it.
My work space is twenty feet from my husbands area and I can easily share what Im writing or
ask for advice. The distractions are so few now, that Im astonished at how much content I produce. I
used to write with a TV on and some movie/TV show playing. I would frequently break and do
something distracting. There was always something interesting around and I was like a crow with a
shiny object. Just shake your car keys at me and Im gone.

I was constantly trying to come down off work troubles or not think about budgets/work
orders/emails/calls I still had to do. I could not release the stress high. On the weekends, I would only
just start to relax around Sunday afternoon.

Now I just sit down and work.

I cant tell if I feel guilty on-purpose or because I think Im supposed to feel that way. Maybe its
just an off-shoot of the many years I spent in catholic school? Just kidding, dont ex-communicate me.

I always feel guilty when I dont recycle properly, let alone where to get rid of my stuff. I swear, I
look around like a kid trying to steal a candy bar when I throw a cup away in the wrong garbage can.
Its like I expect the garbage police to come, like some Monty-Pythonish SWAT team to kick my door
in and scream FREEZE DIRTBAG!

Anyway, where do you get rid of everything when down-sizing?

Garage Sales?

Okay, nothing depresses me more than having a garage sale. Maybe its just me, but I feel like Im
being judged by every person who picks up my Creepy Clown Hummel series. Who wants to bargain
with someone over stuff you think is of tremendous value, but they only want to pay 35 cents? Then
again, I used to haggle like a demon when I found drive-by treasure! How do you think I got the
Creepy Clown Hummel series in the first place?

The solution my husband and I hit on was a donation truck/drop-off point for Goodwill. We
discussed a garage sale (shudder), selling stuff on eBay, and running Craigs List ads. Yeah, the idea
of inviting strangers into my house to look at my used stuff while my husband was at work ranked
only slightly above the garage sale idea.
We were driving back from lunch when we saw one of the trucks parked in an empty section of a
super market parking lot. It looked very sad there all alone and the guy watching it sat in a threadbare
lawn chair. Youd think they would get him a better chair, but I guess donation collectors cant be
choosy.

So, we loaded up the car and drove on over. The collection guy was overjoyed at the bounty we had
to drop off and he gave us tons of blank donations receipts for our taxes.
Tons of blank tax write off papers. Thats a win for taxes next year and we get to unload a lot of
stuff quickly.

We surprised him by making several trips to his truck with lots of good donations.

People usually just bring their crap and trash, but this is really good stuff, he exclaimed. He was
right, it was tons of good stuff.

Heres a funny little thing that happens when youre moving. The closer the deadline gets, added
to you miscalculating everything, including time, you start to not give a damn about things. The value
or nostalgia falls away and you start to discover what really matters to you.

Heres where the Creepy Clown Hummel series really shows its true colors. Do you NEED these
creepy clowns, or do they matter to you because your friends find them kitschy when they come over?
Is that why you honestly keep them, or do they really start to add value to your life?

Value is what I started to recognize. None of this stuff was adding value to my life that in any way
was worth the trouble shipping. In place of those Creepy Clown Hummels I packed a dozen blank
journals. These I used for notes, stories, art, and brain storming. These bring immense value to my life
because they help me create. They organize my thoughts to create. The space they consume is
compensated by the volume of information they help me contain. They bring value to my life and
make the cut.

Sorry and goodbye Creepy clowns!

My husband and I had decided that we could get rid of everything we could easily replace and just
keep the important stuff. We figured one pallet each placed in storage until we moved would do the
trick. We could then have a freight company pick them up and ship the pallets across the country. It
would be short work to get rid of everything, sell it, make some money for the trip, and pack the rest.
Easy-peasy.
Nope.
The more we packed, the more stuff we found we owned. It felt like the rooms kept filling

themselves back up each time we took boxes to the storage unit. The closer we got to the departure
day, the more cavalier I grew in what I was keeping or discarding. Things I was desperate to keep only
a week ago I just tossed on the Goodwill pile.
It was now that I was really starting to discover that minimalist attitude developing, but I hadnt
recognized it as a life choice yet.
I only knew that I was like the captain deciding who was going on that lifeboat.

Alexander Dumas collection? Pfft, who needs the Musketeers?

Box set DVDs of Sex in the City? Seen it and I could REALLY use the extra foot of packing space
those things were taking up.
Trip after trip, my husband and I made to the Goodwill truck. The guy there was becoming like an
old friend. He was so happy that what we were bringing was such good stuff.

There are so many families that need these things.

Sex in the City DVDs?

Okay, those not so much.

The husband and I were amazed at how many trips it took to get the house emptied. Neither one of
us could believe we owned so many things. There were only two of us, but we had enough stuff for the
Von Trapp family.
And here was the problem I was slowly growing to recognize.
We planned on getting rid of everything, shipping two pallets, securing a studio for six months,
then finding the two-bedroom apartment that would suit our needs and location. We ended up with
three pallets in storage, not two. Even then, that was after an extreme culling of everything we owned.
Three versus two is a huge oversight, but I was certain this was the most ESSENTIAL stuff we
needed to have in Portland.

We plastic wrapped all three pallets, closed the storage door, and locked it. I dropped off the key
with my mom and she would be there when the freight company needed to load the lot on a truck.

A long plane ride later and we were in our hotel in Portland.

It was all fun and games until our first apartment fell through and we only had a few days left in
our hotel until things started to get expensive. We hadnt realized how quickly apartments were
snapped up here and the competition was pretty robust.

After a stressful few days and a lot of telephone calls, we secured another studio that was better
than the first.
That phone call from the property manager caused me to sweat three pounds off in thirty seconds
as he told me we could pick the keys up that night. My husband continued to smile because he knew
wed have no problem getting a place. Sometimes I cant decide if hes a little soft or he knows
something I dont, usually the latter.

Anyway, weeks later and we are enjoying our studio and new city. Its now that I make the
realization that I really wouldnt mind if we decided to ship not a single pallet out here.
Not a single one.
Not the signed collection of Clive Barker novels, not the art supplies, not the kitchen utensils, not

the remaining glassware, or the Kitchen-aid mixer.

I even broached the subject to the husband, who, unsurprisingly, shot the idea down. I cant blame
him, I know there is stuff we could use, especially when we do move to a bigger place, but this is so
nice.

However, I dont think Ill keep much of it when it gets here. I wish the now me could go back to
the packing me and supervise. I have been away from the packed stuff for long enough that I dont
really need it. I have been doing fine with what I have and I really dont want to be that trapped person
again. I know it wont be the same, but it still concerns me.
I have so little value placed on that stuff now and I cant imagine that changing. I cant say that I
have felt like this at any other point in my life. I have always looked to acquiring material possessions
as proof of my worth and success. Now, I look at how little drama and clutter is in my life as proof of
worth and success.

I dont feel that cold hand that used to squeeze my heart every time I went into work. Who was I
going to piss off and have a complaint filed against me today? What I did for a living helped no one
and had such little effect on people beyond keeping their walls painted and grass cut, but that sort of
thing was most important to them. I was tired of feeling worthless and filling the gap by surrounding
myself with purchased goods.

Not having those things anymore was freedom and I was resenting those pallets like they were
trying to impinge on my new-found life.
Silly to put such power in inanimate objects, but they do have power over us. I am in no way anticonsumerist. I just now look to see if true value comes into my life as a result of the thing I am
buying.
I have postcards and art show cards pinned to the walls around my desk. They are beautiful
examples of local art work. These are free in the galleries I go to here in Portland and they bring
immense value to me. They cost nothing, take up very little room, but they inspire me as I look at
them. They foster a creative space around my desk. That is true value.

CHAPTER FOUR
VALUE

Being a minimalist doesnt mean that you sit naked in the middle of a bare room. You just decide
what value is brought to you by your possessions or actions. I have no interest in turning into a
Shaolin monk. Walking the roads of the world and doing good deeds like Caine might be fun for a
little while, but I get weird if I cant shower regularly.

Minimalism to me means to do away with everything that keeps me from what gives me the most
joy. Life isnt just living for what makes you happy, or is it? Have we just been programmed to accept
less in life and like it?

My dad used to tell me when I was younger to not expect much out of life and you wont be
disappointed.

Wow, take that little nugget to the bank.

My dad has lived his whole life this way and it shows. He retired 13 years ago and he has been just
waiting to die that whole time.

I simply cant understand how you can just allow your life to be a placeholder to tide over the time
between birth and death. He takes no joy in anything.

Food means nothing to him as long as there are huge portions. Fast food is best as he gets it sooner
and without the hassle of dealing with a restaurant.

I have yet to eat anywhere where he didnt disapprove of the food, the service, the dining room, or
some random and beyond anyones control impediment to his eating. Thats why mom likes to just
bring him a big bag of burgers, and I did not say burger, for him to eat.

Sitting in front of the TV from waking until sleep, while playing some mindless game on the
computer, is all he does. His health and body shows this decline as well as the emergency hospital
visits and surgeries to save his life. He lives on dozens of pills a day with blood sugar numbers that
would kill a regular diabetic if they so much as stood next to him.

He cant climb stairs any longer and is winded getting out of bed. He is a wreck and there is
nothing anyone can do to help him because he doesnt want any help. Believe me, I tried.

Remember, you can only change one person in the world and that is yourself. You can be
understanding, supportive, and loving - but only that person can change themselves. Consequently, it
is completely within your power to fix what is wrong with you.

Sure, our parents may have screwed us up and built the foundation for the house of cards that is

our lives, but we have every opportunity to go back and rebuild.

They werent taught any better and they have only so much to work with themselves. Ive seen my
grandparents and they were just as messed up as everyone else. To keep blaming them for your
insecurities and doubts is selfish and lazy.
I know because Ive been doing it a long time.

Minimalism means you also take an assessment of the baggage and things cluttering your headattic. Boy, I thought handling that second bedroom was a pain in the ass.
I suffered from a tremendous load of guilt and my husband is always reminding me that I allowed
it to be put on my shoulders. I agree, but I couldnt figure out how to relieve it. Ive always been
afraid that I was letting people down all around me. I could know you for ten minutes or all my life,
and I would be terrified of letting you down. I valued other peoples opinions of me over my own.

After all, Im biased and no one else has a personal agenda that may cloud or shape how they respond
to me, right?

Ive always felt a tremendous obligation to my family. Even when we argue and fight, I have
always felt guilty if I didnt apologize and try to mend bridges. It really just comes down to
remembering that they will be gone one day.
Thats not a fair assessment to qualify everything with, but its one I have lived with for years.

No one lives forever, but I am certainly going to try. However, in the event that I fail, I dont want
to feel that I let my loved ones down by not spending enough time with them.

The turning point in my relations with my mother, father, and sister was my wedding. The

amazing husband of mine asked me to marry him and I finally said yes. We decided to just get
married on Valentines Day at a group wedding in a national park. We assumed we could plan a more
intimate ceremony later, but just have a quick little thing here with a romantic dinner later. The
quirkiness really appealed to both of us like an Elvis wedding in Vegas does to many. I vetoed that
idea because it also appealed to the handsome husband. Theres a fine line between quirky and tacky,
Elvis and his impersonators are my line.

The family drama blew up when my sister got into a verbal fight with my husband over statements
that still make no sense. I dont know if she felt he was pulling me away from the family or if she was
jealous, but it really didnt matter in the end.

The husband defended me and the sister refused to attend the wedding. My father proved to be sick
that day and my mother was the only member of the family that showed. The whole day was a
miserable affair and again spoiled by drama.

Sigh, I really do hate drama.

I found out later that dad wasnt sick, but refused to attend since my sister was not going to be
there.

Okay, the situation seems pretty cut and dry. The majority of my family made their decision by
refusing to be at the wedding. I was starting my own family, yet my immediate family was ruining my
happy day over something pretty petty. Sometimes you get hung up by your own petard.

I however, felt guilty because I love my sister, and I love, grudgingly, my pain of a father. My

mother was in a bad position and wanted everyone to just get along. All I wanted was my day with my
husband to be of fond memories, yet it felt like my fault because I couldnt fix things. Worst of all,
my husbands day was ruined too and it was my familys fault. I just kept going back and forth trying
to think how I could fix things.

Now here is where we tie this mess into the minimalist through-line.

Obligations and guilt can be as imprisoning as a room full of stuff. Just as you need to figure out if
that second wide screen plasma TV brings value into your life, so do you need to judge the
relationships you maintain to see what value they bring.

My sister is very important to me and I have always had her in the forefront of my thoughts. We

have lived both on separate sides of the country or rooms next to each other.

She is someone I would die for or give a kidney, but I no longer speak to her.

My husband is the most important person in the world to me. His is the relationship that brings
ultimate value to my life and anyone who diminishes that has to go. To not set aside differences and
try to build a relationship means that my family and I now travel different paths. The fact that no one
remembers his birthday, let alone called him when his mother passed recently, means a lot to me.

This level of drama disintegrated my obligations, real and imposed by me, to my family. I would

be there for them in a heartbeat, but I no longer feel bad for exploring options that dont include them.
I worry about my father still, but I rarely interact with him. Not attending my wedding, not even
calling to congratulate me, shows where his priorities are and thats fine.

Part of my minimalism journey is to let people make their decisions and follow that path. I could
be hurt and angry. I could let that baggage build up and everything that goes with it. It would probably
domino toward more pain and resentment.
Or

I could just accept it and move on. This means that I am free of that pain because I am not
responsible for other peoples feelings. I did not force him to make this decision and I did not force
him to not discuss the matter. He punished me by not attending my wedding and I choose to think he
just punished himself. People have to live with the consequences of their actions or words. We can be
supportive, but that doesnt alleviate them of their responsibility.

Letting go lifts that pressure from my heart and my mind. I dont feel obligated to trying to please
people and that is the next step on my journey.

I dont try to make others happy any more. I love my husband and I support him in every way, but
I dont try to make him happy. I provide an environment that we can both choose to be either happy or
sad, we just choose to be happy. Is that simplistic? Hell yes, thats the point.
We have decided to be happy and weve done a pretty good job so far.
We are in a new city and we have no friends yet, but we introduce ourselves to virtually everyone
we meet. We give a smile and have almost always received one back. Im actually starting to believe
that old saying that you get back what you put out.
In my old job, I was crushed by the expectations, unrealistic or otherwise, of others and their
agendas. I was often the powerless tool they pounded on and I couldnt meet the unrelenting workload.
These were angry people who, in most cases, were stuck in condos and HOAs where their property was

so far underwater that their nearest neighbor lived in Atlantis.

They were angry that they paid so much in fees and expected instantaneous service. They were
overwhelmed by their circumstances and they let it show in the ugliest ways possible.
I was turning into that, and it was affecting every important relationship - including the husband.

Arriving in Portland meant I could wipe all of those obligations away and start new. The first
obligation was to myself and I was going to choose to be happy.
Portland has its warts. There is rampart homelessness, begging in the streets, a great deal of drug
and meth use, crime, and dirt. But I also see the amazing food, the historic buildings, the good people
trying to make a difference, and the positive attitudes.
I could be depressed or I could be happy. I choose the one that makes me feel good.

Im choosing to go to my favorite coffee cart, share some good-natured chatter with the
owner/barista, and pay for a suspended coffee that will help someone have some caffeine that day who
may not have it otherwise.

I choose to walk to the library to gather some research for the art work or writing assignment I
have due and I take the time to enjoy the presence of all of those books for a while. I choose to go sit
and work on my assignment in the restaurant window where my husband is a new pastry chef and
enjoy the ambiance. I then choose to go grab my favorite Indian cart food and head to my cozy
apartment to enjoy dinner with my amazing pastry chef husband before I finish my assignment due
that day.
No added drama, no judgment, no need to feel I need approval from my family any longer. Im
choosing to walk a happy path now and steer clear of unnecessary drama.
Why didnt I do this years ago?

One thing I have discovered after moving to Portland is that I dont need as much money now.
Maintaining a two floor-two bedroom house was expensive! Not to mention, two cars, utilities,
insurance, food, clothes, and anything remotely approaching fun.
We were constantly living well above our means and most of this was due to being miserable.
We were always in search of distractions from how much we did not enjoy our lives.

The husband and I are vegetarians and we lived in one of the areas that seemed to declare war
on veggies. It isnt like were militant or tried to make people angry. It was the lifestyle we chose and
we tried to make it work. We could almost always find something on a menu to eat or politely ask if a
meat item could be easily removed. Some restaurants took this as a challenge, and some as an offense.
Sigh.

We also had to drive quite a bit because everything in Saint Petersburg was so far spread out. I
used to say that the next thing we wanted to do was always forty minutes from where we were at that
moment. Money just poured out as we lived day to day. We werent extravagant people, we just liked
to eat out every once in a while or even to just eat healthy.
Moving to Portland was an eye opener. The studio apartment was half what it cost to live in the
two bedroom house. Less stuff meant we needed less space. Less space meant less money spent on
square footage filled with boxes of stuff we didnt need in the first place.
Brilliant!
The studio also included Wi-Fi and utilities - brilliant times two!
Since we eat out so often, we dont do a lot of shopping. As Ive said, the food we get now is
healthy, hearty, and satisfying. We couldnt make it for what it costs in most instances. We are now
able to cut back on the supplements and vitamins we were eating because we both have lost so much
weight and are healthier. Trust me, that is a cost savings motherlode right there.
We spend so much time walking the city and exploring that we dont have to spend money on
distractions like we used to do. Losing weight, instead of gaining it, means I dont have to keep
erm expanding the wardrobe.

Cha-ching!
We dont have one TV, let alone the TV in every room we had before. We arent constantly
buying movies and books that end up stacked on the fireplace. We arent buying art supplies that end
up on a box in the second bedroom. We arent driving fifty miles, there and back, to go to the one
decent Italian restaurant serving veggie lasagna.
Now, we walk two blocks to an Italian restaurant that doesnt treat its vegetarian clientele like
lepers, that serves us a well planned and executed dinner, and costs half what a crappy meal used to
cost in Saint Petersburg.
That is simplicity that I can handle.

CHAPTER FIVE
HOW DO I BECOME LESS?

Are there rules to follow as a minimalist? Well, I think that how I shape my life as a minimalist
will be different than how you live. The simplest rule to follow would be to judge everything by how
much value that thing adds to your life.
Living a minimalist lifestyle is doing things as simply as possible.
Occams razor means that the simplest solution is often the correct solution. This is a good
principle to live your life by. Unneeded material goods, too many distractions, and waste can destroy
you.
Apply minimalism to the structure of your life as well as the clutter and demands. Not everyone
can work as their own boss doing freelance work, but you would be surprised at how much structural
clutter you can trim away.

I used to get up at 6 AM to get ready for work. I would do all of my normal grooming beforehand,
sometimes eat breakfast, more often eat fast food breakfast, and get into the office by 8:30 AM. On
my drive, I would handle a couple of calls, return a couple more, then call into the client services
department to see what problems were brewing. I would either give directions on how these problems
should be handled or ask that they email or deliver reminders to my office.

Once in, I would try to answer emails, or at least identify the really big problems. I would flag the
unread emails and organize them into sub-folders for each property and hope that I could deal with
them and not forget.

I would definitely forget as other problems would come up or fires needed to be put out.

I would then drive to one of my properties for a weekly meeting. Sometimes this was only a forty
minute drive and sometimes it would be an hour and a half drive to a southern property.

Once there, I would spend an hour or more walking the property with a board member going over

every inch for problems. This walk should have been scheduled once a month, but most of the time
our contracts deemed them necessary once a week. Huge waste of time, but a contract is a contract.
The board would never skimp as they figured we werent earning our keep anyway.

I would then drive back with a checklist of problems, usually after being chewed out for not
completing various previous tasks yet. Of course, this ignored the fact that the tasks may have been
impossible to take care of because of a lack of money, no vendor interested in the work, no decision
from the rest of the board to even proceed, not enough time, or any various combinations of the
previous qualifiers.

I may have other meetings that day, or a full blown board meeting that night. These lasted
anywhere from two hours to four with angry homeowners and board members looking to shove the
blame on someone else. In between all of this,

I would squeeze in some nasty fast food or some frozen meal.

Day in and day out, I preformed these duties. I was organized, professional, and I cared. However,
I had more properties than I could handle and they were looking to pile more on me because I could
save accounts other managers were losing.
There was no way that I could live a minimalist lifestyle with this job, so I quit. Its never that
simple, but I had to make it that way. It was leave or die. Boy that sounds so dramatic. However, I
have the doctors reports and hospital records to show otherwise. That said, quitting meant that I also
had to leave a very lucrative salary behind.

Heres where I had to restructure things and rebuild our lives.

Freelancing pays, but not as well as my old job. The husband and I really had to come to grips with
changing how we lived. Thankfully, neither of us are really the type who needs expensive things. My
husband picked out an Android tablet for me three years ago and did a brilliant job of researching the
most bang for the buck. Ive used it to the max of its capabilities and wrote part of this book with it.
Its still going strong, even though new tablets offer some pretty amazing features.

The husband and I had to adapt to less income, but we find our dollar going further now.

Now that weve corrected the naked in a bare room myth, lets tackle the next misunderstanding.
Minimalism doesnt mean you need to scrape by with something cheap. Again, its the value that the
item brings to your life and not the value of the item.
Before I moved, I had the laptop I am using now, a desktop that I used as my media center, a
printer/scanner, and my tablet. Of the three, I donated the desktop and the printer to a friends school
for the art department to use. I kept the laptop and the tablet because I use both interchangeably,
depending on the situation. I purchased a Roku in place of the desktop because I could use the backup
hard-drives, full of my movies, with it and compress down from a full sized desktop to a device only 4
inches across.
Same functionality, but simpler.
Distill every situation to the most basic level that still fulfills your needs.

My husband and I owned two cars in Florida. That meant double the insurance, gas, maintenance,
tires, cleaning, parking, and use. Huge cost and nothing we could do about it. We could get bikes, but
the need for vehicles was not canceled out by two-wheelers. Living in Florida meant you did a lot of
driving. Public transportation was pitiful and my job required a vehicle, so we poured more money
down that hole.
The flip-side was that we didnt walk all that much either. Sure, we tried to walk downtown once a
weekend, but it was 20 blocks and 4 of them were through a sketchy part of the neighborhood. It was
simpler and safer to just drive. This meant no exercise and several blocks circled as we tried to find
parking in the general vicinity of where we wanted to go.

One of the hardest decisions we made when moving to Portland was deciding to get rid of both
vehicles.
Crazy, huh?
Getting rid of the cars would solidify our travel plans, but owning a car was so ingrained into each
of us.

We were still trying to decide if driving across country with a moving truck and one car would
work or if we should get rid of everything and fly. Disposing of both cars made our travel decision
possible and moved us along the minimalist path.

We checked out our new city and discovered it was filled with public transport options. Not only
did we have trolleys, trams, and train lines, but this city was designed for bikes and walking. We had
cheap cabs to choose from along with more unique options like bike cabs.
Should we need a vehicle, there were two inexpensive car loan services in the city. Zipcar was our
service of choice. We could reserve a car, any type up to a truck or van. This vehicle would be
between $8 and $18 per hour depending on vehicle. They were located at spots all over the city and
surrounding area. There are five within two blocks of my apartment. The vehicle usage includes gas
and insurance with an 80 mile cap before you are charged extra. There is no credit card down and apps
to register. You interact with no one. Just walk up, flash your card at the windshield, it unlocks and the
keys are attached inside.

We rented a Zipcar, a hybrid, and drove to Ikea. We loaded our furniture in it and wrapped
everything up in 3 hours. No muss no fuss.

These cars are at our disposal any time we reserve them and I can even get a luxury car if I need
one for a meeting. There is no need to own a car here and I am loving every second of it. I have never
felt freer than to not own a car and discovering that I dont need a car. There is no value added to my
life by owning my own car.

Living in the city means we walk everywhere. We head to Chinatown for a vegetarian lunch at the
Vegetarian House = 18 blocks. We swing down to Voodoo Donuts for a tasty treat = 5 blocks. We visit
Powells Books = 12 blocks. We head home = 6 blocks. 41 blocks of exercise = my ass getting much
smaller.

You would not believe how winded I would get on short excursions to the food carts when we first
got here, but now I swing it like a champ.

Of course, some days it feels like we are going uphill in both directions, but Im getting there.

Having so few personal items has been a dream come true when it comes to keeping organized.
Anyone who knows me knows I am an organizing freak. I had scores of plastic boxes, sorting boxes,
photo boxes, accordion files, plastic sleeves, labeling machines, and binders. The problem was that I
was getting so cluttered up with my organization system because I had too much organized stuff!
Keeping up with everything I had already organized was driving me crazy. The paperwork alone
was madness.
However, during packing I realized what I could do with that paperwork - digitize it and dispose of
it all.

I started by shredding all of my W2s and my check stubs. I went to my company website and
found all of the electronic copies of my paperwork there. I downloaded it to dated files and stored
backups in my Google Drive and Dropbox. I did the same by going to my online tax site and
downloaded all of my returns. I started scanning important paperwork like my medical records and
started shredding papers that were no longer of use. It was crazy what I had in my accordions that I
longer needed. Expired registrations for old screenplays, book club or library cards. Electric bills from
California, and old receipts. Everything I didnt need hit the shredder.

Needless to say, there are definitely things you cant digitize like passports or birth certificates.
However, I was surprised at how much I could get rid of physically and keep safe copies backed up in
case of an emergency.
I also uploaded apps to my phone that allow me to scan in paperwork simply by taking a picture. I
can scan a receipt and send it to my Dropbox in two steps instead of taking it home and filing in an
accordion file. I can now scan articles I find in the library or documents I sign in person. Pretty nifty
device, these smartphones.
I keep both Dropbox and Google Drive on my computer to back all of my important information

up. I know that I can access either account from anywhere and I get a ton of space for free. I also use
these accounts to link my current work projects in case I feel like taking my tablet to a coffee shop to
work instead of my laptop.

I dont keep a physical calendar anymore, I use Google calendar linked to Outlook with Gsync. I
got tired of keeping a notebook in my bag with appointments, while trying to keep my desk calendar
and my online calendar updated. I wasted so much time trying to have everything working together
when it was simpler to just use Google on my phone. Technology has really saved my butt.

I also used to carry a digital recorder around with me to take notes. What a horrible chore it was to
transcribe those audio files. It took hours to do because I either dont speak clearly or I just dont type
fast enough. A little of both most of the time I imagine. Instead, I now use an app called Flex T9
Speak that transcribes my notes as I speak them. What a lifesaver to be able to dictate my articles as

Im walking home or riding a bus.

Apps are the greatest invention yet. I can multitask with my phone or tablet in ways I could only
dream about 5 years ago. I eliminated my IPod, digital recorders, camera, scanners, calculators,
compass, maps, and more by simply by finding the app that could handle the tasks I need.
A phone or tablet is a minimalists dream device.

CHAPTER SIX
WHAT I DO EVERY DAY

I used to hear my alarm clock scream at me from anywhere between 6 AM and 9 AM, depending
on where I had to be that day. Now, I dont even set my alarm. Truth of the matter, I still wake up
around 8:30 AM, unless Ive been up late writing or drawing.
Freelancing means that I dont have to get up at a specific time any longer and that is a very
relaxing thing. My schedule is as uncluttered as I can make it.

Cleaning the apartment takes a tenth of the time the house did. It takes me literally 5 minutes to
wash dishes as the most we use is a few glasses and some silverware. Almost all of the containers we
get from food carts or restaurants comes in Eco-friendly materials. Good for the environment and
recyclable for us. We try to reuse the cups or containers several times, but we do separate our
recyclables as much as possible. I run a dust-mop around the hardwood floors and check our airmattress in just a few minutes.

Yes, we skipped a traditional bed and bought a full-sized air-mattress. We also purchased two fullsized memory foam sheets. One went on the floor underneath and the second went on top. I love
traditional mattresses, but this set up feels like heaven. Also, we can easily store it if we need some
additional room and the whole thing cost us $75. Simple, cheap, and it brings value that an expensive
traditional bed set cant.
The bathroom takes a little longer, maybe 15 minutes and Im done.
Now I have to decide if I am heading out to write or if Im going to stay in. I try to keep my
schedule loose and today I think I want a little more freedom, so out its going to be.
I decide to get breakfast first, so I head to a bar we like called Kellys Olympian. Its a strange

hybrid really. There are a dozen, very expensive, vintage motorcycles hanging from the ceiling and the
place is filled with old gas pumps, guitars, and either barflies or hipsters.

The food is outstanding and mostly vegetarian. The other big factor is, like many places here with
hearty food, cheap. I crack open my tablet, order an iced coffee, the French toast with eggs, and start
researching my next assignment. I never skimp on the tip because I like to park places and work. I
always make certain that Im not killing real estate that cheat the ladies out of tips, so I leave before
the lunch rush comes in.

I may either head back home to continue working or go to a coffee shop like Case Study. I choose
the latter. Along the way, I check my library app to see if my holds have come in. Case Study is across
the street from the main branch, so I swing by and pickup my research material. I then spend a couple
of hours doing more writing and drinking more iced coffee. I cant help it, Im addicted to the stuff.

I check my phone to see a text from the husband saying he is getting off work and would I like to
grab dinner at our favorite restaurant. Of course I do and it happens to be two blocks from our studio.
Not only have I gotten a huge chunk of writing done, but Ive also walked a good twenty blocks that
day.
The husband and I wrap up a lovely meal sitting street-side and drinking the restaurants own
house-brew beers. When we get home, the husband rests and I put in another couple of hours reading
or writing. We then head off to a solid nights sleep to start over the next day both doing the things we
love.
Did I mention that I sleep through the night and wake up rested? It has been a very long time since
Ive done that.

I never dreamed I could have days like these when I was killing myself for years doing the
property management gig.

I feel like a castaway who vaguely remembers the years they spent on the island. I let it trap me
and ensure me in an unmanageable and self-fulfilling schedule. Yuck.

I should feel guilty now for living like this, but I refuse to do so. I paid both my dues and a heavy
toll in that past career. I only feel guilty for not taking the steps I needed to so that I could get to this
point sooner. I should have been braver and I should have taken a better inventory of my life. Yet,
even that isnt helpful. What happened before brought me here and I accept that. Living in the past
means never leaving the past. There is no growth or point to it.

Choose a career that will give you the freedom you need and the joy you crave. You can use all of
the excuses you like to avoid being honest, but they dont matter in the end if you kill yourself serving
other peoples needs. There is nothing wrong with being selfish about your own needs first.
Maybe you have a family to take care of, but youre working yourself to death. Who takes care of
them when you are gone? Would it not be better to do more with them at the cost of buying them less
things? Wouldnt your son enjoy spending the weekend with you more than a new TV? Wouldnt your
wife enjoy dinners with you more than the vacation that required weeks and weeks of overtime?

My schedule doesnt bring in huge sums of money, but my stress level is virtually nil. I know that

my blood pressure has dropped forty points alone and I dont feel sick virtually every minute of my
waking day.

True story
I was on-call 24 hours a day 7 days a week. I had one property where the fire alarms and system
would go off constantly in the middle of the night. This is a 12 story building and I had nightmares
where it caught fire and our alarm system didnt work for some reason. I would hear my phone ring,
despite the fact that it sat next to me constantly and actually had not rung after all.

I got a call late one evening that the alarms had gone off again. I had been at dinner with the
husband and we had just ordered. I had to call a cab to go home, get my books and keys, and then drive
thirty minutes to get to the building. Once there, a heat sensor had indicated that there was a fire in a
stairwell, but there was no such heat source. I checked and everything was clear, but my boss said to
contact the fire department just in case, why take chances?

I called the non-emergency number and explained the situation. The fire department still came
with sirens roaring and checked out the building. A lieutenant chewed me out, in front of two trucks of
firemen and tenants, about calling in a false alarm. She said I could have been arrested for this and
that they would be billing me.

Nice lady.
I could have sliced up my stress and built a second 12 story building with it. I would do it again
because I still would not take chances with peoples lives, but my job now is only stressful if I dont
hit a deadline. At least the consequences arent fines, jail, or peoples lives being damaged or lost.
My schedule is so much calmer now and a heck of a lot more rewarding.
Tomorrows schedule is up in the air and I really dont have any solid plans. Im laying out some
new projects and looking to finish my book, but my only real goal is to line up new clients.

CHAPTER SEVEN
HOW DO MINIMALISTS EAT?

The husband and I are vegetarians. Is it important to being a minimalist? Not at all.

Being a minimalist means making choices that enrich and simplify your life. What I do makes my
life easier, but that doesnt mean it will make yours. My relationship with my family has caused us to
go separate ways in life, this in turn has relieved me of many obligations. You may be tight as thieves
with your family and emulating my choices would only hurt that.

Im a vegetarian because of health reasons. I ended up with pancreatitis a few years back and the
doctors didnt think I was coming out of the ER. It was so bad that I was screaming in the emergency
room. My blood pressure and sugar numbers were through the roof. I was one hundred pounds

overweight and I spent several days in intensive care. I was at a very low point in my life and I had
only started doing the property management job a year before.

I had left LA two years before my hospital vacation and I had all but given up on my dream of
being a successful writer and artist. I was alone and had no one in my life. I was in full high pressure
mode as a property manager and I was eating the worst fast food imaginable. The night before my
attack, I was at an all-you-can-eat country buffet with my boss after a terrifically stressful board
meeting.

I ate my fill that night.

Now I know it wasnt the buffet that sent me to the hospital, it was everything. It was the soda I
was pounding by the two liter bottle, it was the Taco Bell, it was the McDonalds, it was the hohos,
and peanut butter cups. I was a wreck inside and I was a wreck outside.

I left the hospital, alive, but I still had not learned my lesson. I was eating better, but still not quite
well enough. I started eating a lot of Boca burgers instead of McDonalds Big Macs. I drank tons of
iced tea, but I still had some soda. I ate more vegetables, but still chased it with fries. I managed to
lose some weight, but not enough to seriously impact my body.

It was then that I met the pastry chef husband online. He was an amazing person with his own shop
in Wisconsin. We agreed to meet and I flew up on Christmas Day. The following week was fantastic
and we fell in love.

I quit the business and moved to Wisconsin two months later. Over the next two years, I lost the
hundred pounds and I became an occasional meat eater who ate a great deal of vegetables. He was
tolerant as he had been a full vegetarian for several years.

I gave up the soda for tea and water. He taught me that there were so many ways to eat as a
vegetarian and not have to live on rabbit food. I felt better than I had in a very long time.
Nothing tastes as good as being healthy.

After two years, we decided to leave his small town and move back to Florida. I figured we could
live on my property manager income while he resumed being a pastry chef. Unfortunately, Tampa is
not known for their food, and pastry chef positions are as rare as hens teeth. After two more years of
struggling, we hit the start of my story where we moved to Portland.

So, the vegetarian lifestyle was a health choice for me. I still enjoy the occasional meat meal, but
Ive lost most of my taste for it. That doesnt mean you cant be a minimalist and eat meat. Just eat
healthy meat. Organic is such an overused and abused word, but find a place where it is still respected.
We are lucky here in that most of the foods are locally sourced and listed on the menus. Restaurants
are proud of that fact.

The fewer ingredients on the package the better for you. If you cant pronounce it, you probably
shouldnt eat it. Minimalism also applies to your foods. Im not saying Paleo this and Atkins that, but
sensible is not a bad way to go.

I may drink a touch more coffee than I should, but I try to balance one glass of water for every
coffee I have. I try to drink decaf tea instead of just Earl Grey. Simplicity is also creating a balance.

If I have fried foods, like falafel or onion rings, I try to visit this amazing salad shop near the
studio for dinner. If I have French toast in the morning, I try to have a lighter dinner from a soup food
cart. The one I enjoy the most offers a soup flight. Like a flight of beer, a soup flight consists of
several smaller samples of the soups they produce for the day. What a brilliant idea.

Youll find that when you eat healthier food, you dont need to eat as much. I was a buffet terror
years ago. You could see the sweat breaking out on the managers lip when I walked in like the
Olympic champion of eating contests. Now, I find myself unable to finish most meals with sensible
portions. Two slices of pizza stuff me when I used to pack away a large by myself. Ive discovered
that the restaurant that serves the platter sized portions is usually providing lesser ingredients for that
meal. How else can they meet the food costs? When they serve a giant steak, a softball sized glob of
mashed potatoes, a baseball sized heap of vegetables, and none of it is locally sourced - you know it
came from cans, powders, and grade W meat. The worst part is youre putting that into your body.

I understand, I did it for years.

Think what happens if you put very low quality gas into your car. Dont ever take it to a mechanic,
dont change the oil, let all of the filters go, and never add water. Now guess what happens to your car
after a few years? Yeah, now rethink that scenario with your body as the car and you get what
happened to me right before I ended up in the emergency room.

Thats why I practice minimalism in what I eat and how I eat. Every once in a while I cheat and I
promise that I never enjoy it. I always go back to proper, healthy food and my cheats grow farther
apart.
Im not preaching, just laying out the facts as they happen to me.

CHAPTER EIGHT
HOW I GET MORE FOR LESS

The pressure here in our society is to buy lots of things. Were a culture of gatherers. Watching TV
means you are inundated with commercials pushing you to buy things. Not things you need so much as
things you want. Like anything, consumerism is good in moderation. If you drink too much water, you
die. If you drink what you need, you thrive.

I get past a lot of that consumerism thrust by not owning a television any more.

Once, I was a TV maniac. There was nothing better than doing some art and running my shows in
the background. I fooled myself into thinking I could do several things at once and still accomplish.
Damn, was I wrong?
I dont have a TV any longer, so I just focus on the writing or artwork. Sure, I play music as I
work, but nothing more complicated than that. The crazy part is I used to think pushing out a thousand
words was great for a days work. Now, I could do a rough 10,000 words if I really push. Ten times the
work load by simplifying my surroundings and removing the distractions. Minimalism is all about
removing distractions.
Im excited to work better and not harder. The words flow more easily and the drawing goes much
smoother.

Its all about choices and being honest with yourself.

I liked the idea of being a multitasker. There is no shame in needing to concentrate and who was I
impressing anyway? Why did I need people to think I could do it all?
Now I make time to watch a few episodes of a show on Hulu with my husband because I
accomplish more of the tasks I lay out for myself. I give myself time to goof off and I give myself
time to work. I try to be consistent, but flexible.

Im no longer worried about having a new car or the latest tech because someone will think it is
cool, and by extension, think Im cool. Ive reached the point where I dont need that type of
validation.

I buy the tech I need to get done what I need done. It has to provide services and abilities my
current tech cannot and it has to be at a cost that doesnt negate the value. Thats the reason I have not
replaced my three year old tablet, it still walks the walk I need it to.

People buy things because they think they need it and have been told they need it, when they really
dont. Breaking that cycle is the most important thing. Self-awareness and self-assessment are sorely

missing in many people today.

Does that product add true value to your life and does that counter-balance what you do to buy that
product?
Does that person add true value to your life, or do they drain you with their negativity and dark
attitude? Is that pain worth all the energy you give to that person?
These are questions you ask yourself when assessing situations, and try not to be afraid of the
answers. So many people are not worth the struggle and drama they bring into your life. Many things
are not worth the time you will spend to earn them.

Categorizing things you are assessing helps when becoming a minimalist.

My laptop is facing a problem. The screen goes blank when I use too many graphic intensive
programs. The board gets very hot and the system can crash the display. A real pain in the backside
when doing artwork or writing. Should I rush out and replace it? Well, in the past I would have done
that in a heartbeat.

It is a 17 inch screen laptop with 4 gigs of memory and Ive been pretty satisfied with it. I have
Dropbox and Google Drive set up with my documents all saved as backup. I do my art work in folders
set up on both accounts. I have all of the volatile files saved to these two locations also. I even have
Chrome installed so that my bookmarks are constantly backed up. If I lost the system, the damage
would be minimal.

No, I have not rushed out to replace it.

My laptop still continues to serve me well and the blackouts, when they do occur, are rare
annoyances. Every once in a while I erase the whole system and reinstall. I think a clean sweep clears
the cobwebs, but I wont replace this laptop until I start getting the Blue Screen of Death. I still find a
great deal of value in it.
It isnt that Im cheap, I just appreciate what it still can do for me if I show it some TLC.
I do the same thing with everything I own or am considering buying. I set up categories and
analyze things before moving on them.

Do I want a technique book on perspective illustration? Normally, I would have just bought it.
Now I consider the question carefully.

If I buy it, will it fulfill my need to expand my technique?

I read the reviews on the book and do a bit of research on the net.

I find it will do so and I move to the next thought.

If I buy it, should I look locally or online to buy it?

I check the prices for local and net purchases. I check my local art store to see if they

have a coupon. I see they dont and the online version is cheaper.

I move to the next level.

Do I need this as a physical book or would an ebook do?

An ebook would reduce the cost more, but sometimes the physical copy is more useful

to me for technical or non-fiction material.

I can make the notes I need on the ebook and I can use my tablet to read it since the

images are larger than I like for my phone.

I buy the ebook and have it sent to my phone, tablet, and laptop.

So now I own a book on perspective drawing that will not take up one square inch of physical
space, that cost me less than I expected, that I can carry around with me to read during any spare
moment, and I will also learn more about three point perspective drawing while doing a city
landscape.
Minimalism at work.

Storage units can be a Bermuda Triangle.

Ive had storage units in the past and they weighed on me like a sword of Damocles hanging over
my head. Youre paying a monthly fee to someone to hold stuff you dont use and probably cant
remember what half of it is anymore.

Unless its family heirlooms, get rid of it.

If you cant use it in your house right now, get rid of it.
A good rule of thumb is get rid of it if you havent used it in six months. If you have so much stuff
that you have to store it someplace else entirely, get rid of it.

Go to the storage unit and start with one box at a time. Take two boxes with you and start sorting
keep and dump. When you are done with that box, put it aside and start going through the keep box. Be
honest and cut loose half that box into dump. Take the dump box to Goodwill and let it go. You will
feel great and even removing the one box will leave you feeling accomplished.

Now open another box and do the same thing all over again, but put keep items into the old keep
box. This time when you cut the keep box in half you will find some of the previous precious items are
not keep anymore.
When you get to the last box in the storage unit you might find yourself surprised at how much
you let go.
However, I would still go through that keep box one last time and cut it in half again.

Remember, keep up with that minimalist thinking. Simple is best.

CHAPTER NINE
BE HAPPY, NOT BROKE

I try not to spend money wildly, but wisely. I buy quality items that I have researched thoroughly
and Im satisfied that theyre worth the value. This isnt a long process and I dont agonize over my
decisions, but I try to be smart about them.

Recently, my husband and I were in a paper store. As a writer and an artist, I am addicted to paper
and its accessories. They even had the shop and tubs in back where they made their own paper. I saw
fountain pens, journals, posters, and cards everywhere. Its one of my most favorite places to be and I
was overjoyed to discover such a place here in Portland.

We looked at every square inch and examined almost every item. My amazing husband found

journals designed for chocolatiers and their recipes. He found a lovely French poster and a couple
cards he wanted to send to friends.
I wandered looking at the notebooks and drawing tablets. Nothing pulls me in like the delicious
virginal first pages of a notebook waiting for fresh ideas. They are bound books of potential.
Yet, I knew I had notebooks and tablets at home waiting for me. I looked at the pens and knew I
had several at home on my desk. I desperately wanted to take something home, but we left with only
my husbands purchases.

Did I feel bad or cheated because I came away with nothing?

Not in the least.
If I need something, I can go back. I wanted something from that store, but I didnt need anything
from the paper store. Nothing I purchased would add value because I already possessed everything I
needed. There was no added value right now.
However, we did go to a nearby pastry shop because an iced coffee and fig cookie added
tremendous value to my stomach.

I loved clothes and I still do. I had ten different pairs of converse sneakers, several heels, a dozen
dress shoes for work, and one pair of Doc Martens. I had a drawer and a half of white tee shirts and so

much underwear I couldnt count.

A dozen pairs of jeans, a dozen dress slacks, blouses and shirts everywhere, and three trench coats.

Granted a lot of this was because of my fluctuating tummy, but I would have had as many even if I
had maintained a healthy normal weight. So much of me was tied into my clothes.
When I was skinny, I liked being a clothes horse. When I was fat, I like using them as a
distraction. At that point, I couldnt control my weight, but I could control the clothes.

Moving to Portland forced me to make hard choices as I could only take a limited selection. I
packed all of my small outfits for shipping, donated all of the big clothes, and I brought a chunk of the
mid-range clothes with me.
Ive lost so much weight now, that Im considering donating some of the mid-range clothes to
Goodwill here in Portland. Also, without a dresser, I hang almost everything. Im finding that I dont
need much now.
Instead of the baskets of clothes I washed before, I wash a brown paper sack of clothes. Without
the weight, I dont sweat in my clothes like I used to and I can reuse them several times.

I spend more time in jeans, converses, and tees than I have since I was a kid.
I can make more select decisions when shopping for new skinny clothes and I dont think Ill need
a packed closet any more. I can focus on quality over quantity.

Three pairs of jeans, three dressier shirts, a few nice dresses, and maybe one suit for meetings will
do fine.
Minimal choices mean minimal decisions.
Simple.

CHAPTER TEN
WHERE I AM

So here I sit in a coffee shop on a bright sunny Portland Tuesday morning. I plan to drink this iced
coffee, eat my cherry scone, and finish this chapter. I have plans to eat lunch with my handsome
husband at a Russian food cart this afternoon and enjoy the sun in a nearby park.

Hell head back to bake a cheese cake or something else yummy, while I go back to our studio
apartment to edit. Im hoping to do a little water color this afternoon, but I may not.

Last year at this time, I was worried sick over a board meeting where the president wanted to fire
my company since I had not forced a roofing company to honor the warranty this president screwed up

years before. I had budgets due for June and election meeting notices to get out. I was still struggling
with how my family handled my wedding and I was tentatively talking to my mother and accepting
her lunch invitation for my birthday.

I was in the middle of a new property that tipped my workload into the red zone and upper
management kept promising, but declining to relieve me of my most time-consuming condominiums.
All of this, and the husband was being neglected or outright snapped at for nothing at all.

I was drowning and still four months from reaching the snapping point that would eventually send
us to Portland and a minimalist lifestyle.

I never imagined I could be living the way I am now and doing it guilt-free. Im clutter, drama,
and stress free.

Im making better decisions and Im enjoying the fruits of those decisions. Im seizing
opportunities I never would have before and Im free.
It isnt easy and at no point have I meant to imply that. Changing your life is traumatic and scary
as hell, but nothing worthwhile is easy. It shouldnt be. If it was, then it wasnt that big of a change.
Recently, I was walking the 18 blocks back to our studio with the husband. We had lunch at the
brilliant vegetarian Chinese restaurant we frequent in Chinatown. We were marveling over how far we
have come in such a short time. We have less than we ever have had in our time together, but we both
felt our lives were tremendously full. I was a paid freelance artist and writer, while he was running his
own pastry kitchen in a big restaurant in a major city.

We had a studio apartment in a location even jaded Portlanders marveled at our luck in securing.
We earned a modest income, but it covered our needs and allowed us to build. I no longer felt that sick
dread that grasped my heart day and night, worried about what I was missing or what could go wrong
at work.
What are you feeling? he asked.
Content, was the only word I could answer that summed everything up.

Remember, keep it simple!

DISCLAIMER (aka Legal Stuff)

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Copyright Talent Writers 2014