becoming less minimalist

28 Apr, 2026

I messaged my friend Suliman:

“Don’t roast me too hard, but I bought the two cutest Usahanas.”

after I had ordered a medium sized Sanrio plushie and a small one to attach to a bag.

Aptly, he replied:

“I mean, she‘s cute. But girl, you have so much HKIA merch at this point. When is your minimalism gonna kick in?”

That made me laugh, and it’s true. It also brings up a change I have noticed in myself for a while now. I think in a way, I have become less minimalist, and in some ways even maximalist. I’m still not a big consumer and I prefer my space to be rather empty, decluttered and clean, but some of my rules and tastes have evolved.

My drive for minimalism already started as a teen. I felt easily overwhelmed, and my room was my refuge.

The rest of the apartment I shared with my mother was very, very cluttered; not hoarder-levels of disarray, but she loved filling every free space. The dining table was always semi-full of little trinkets, newspapers, letters, sales brochures, add and her laptop(s). Two of the four chairs also held piles of this stuff that were once moved off the table to make space, just for the empty area to become filled with the same; the seat area of the sofa did as well. Shelves were full of cute stuff found in those cheap decorative stores like NanuNana; one or two might have looked tasteful and intentional, but instead, wildly different stuff was just displayed there because it has to have a place somewhere. It wasn’t really decoration or something picked for a specific space, just “I have it now and this is where it can be dumped.”

I could hardly get rid of anything. All trash was always monitored and searched through by her, and even some broken or otherwise unusable stuff was commented on or put back into my room. When I was caught decluttering my possessions, I was bargained with as if I was doing something horrible; everything was questioned and she tried to convince me otherwise. I wasn’t allowed to sell or donate anything, I had to do that in secret. When she caught me, she’d put the discarded stuff in a garbage bag and keep it in her bedroom. That’s how she ended up sleeping surrounded by like 10 garbage bags she refused to get rid of for years¹. I was a teen - the things I got rid of were normal. Child things I no longer needed, clothes I grew out of, stuffies I no longer liked, broken school supplies.

This is still something you can get Hulk-levels of anger out of me. If you track, comment on, or question what I put in the trash or discard, or put it back where I removed it from, I will completely crash out.

Anyway, that created a strong desire in me to keep my space clean and decluttered; I hated how unusable lots of things were in the home. I didn’t wanna first combine piles of stuff on the sofa and then move that to any other kinda-free space, just to be able to sit. Same with the bathtub, the chairs, the table. I wanted things to be usable instantly. That also made it much easier to keep clean.

I’m also diagnosed with PTSD, and when it was still affecting me a lot, it meant my brain was in a fight-or-flight mode a lot. Anxious, easily overstimulated, tense. Makes sense then that I would gravitate towards rather “boring”, muted colors for my space. I couldn’t wait until I could finally move out and could keep my walls white, my furniture white, all kinds of stuff just a plan white, black or gray, and have the absolute bare minimum, everything reduced to function. A capsule wardrobe of all black and a few bits of winered tops, too. My personal “uniform”.

I accomplished that, and I remember hosting people and one of them going “but you’re still gonna fill that a bit… right?”. My place was rather empty, sterile and cold, and it echoed strongly. I needed it to be that way, though, and it stayed that way for quite a while.

You see, my mother also modeled a really bad way to consume. Shopping was used as therapy. Sales coupons in the letterbox were used as an excuse to go to the shop and find something nice, because “You gotta use that good sale!”, nevermind that it makes you spend money you otherwise wouldn’t have, even if that 30% off that jacket feels like a steal in the moment. I was dragged to shops not because we needed something, but just because; recreationally. Maybe you find something nice and you can be happy. I understand why she did it, but it was quite the opposite of what you should do when you’re on a low income and thousands in debt.

It had left quite a negative impression of shopping on me. It was useless, akin to emotional binge-eating, a way to cover emotions, and you were manipulated into it by companies trying to make a profit. Useless items like a smiling silly porcelain sheep were bought, dumped onto a shelf with the other trash, and forever forgotten about; just used as a quick hit.

On the other extreme end, there was me. I only wanted to have one of each for many items. Why buy more shoes if I already have a pair? Same with pants, pots, plushies, and more. I had no decorations because they served no obvious purpose.

It also affected investments into my hobbies and interests negatively if they were physical. I could go down a spiral of overthinking about buying new fabric for my embroidery, because when I finish a piece, what then? I could just hang it up, but that clutters the walls? But then it’s just in a drawer catching dust. It will just be clutter. And one day it will be thrown away. It’s just a waste!That thinking really paralyzed me in drawing or painting anything as well. These hobbies served no functional purpose and the resulting items couldn’t be used up, and it bothered me deeply. It’s why back then, I gravitated more towards digital hobbies that would not take up space or alter my environment.

I also had no attachments to anything I owned. I was proud of that, and in a way, I still think this is a useful mindset to have. Not in the sense that you are careless with items, but that if they break, get stolen or your home burns down, you aren’t completely devastated, or even run in trying to save something and lose your life in the process.

What supported all of this was this underlying feeling (due to mental illness) that I wasn’t safe anywhere, a subtle unchecked belief that I had to always be ready to stuff most of my belongings in a bag and easily leave to flee something. Brains do funny things when they feel like you’re being hunted down all the time (while being in no danger). Abused people tend to have a problem with allowing themselves to be rooted down to a place and take up space in general, afraid of becoming attached, or being too much, too noticeable, feeling too comfortable and too safe. There is always a feeling of looming threat, of the next catastrophe, and your brain tells you to be ready… and you don’t even really know what for. In that worldview, possessions were weight I couldn’t afford to carry.

The first time I loosened up a bit was after a health scare at the hospital, where I spent days in a stroke unit and had two brain MRIs. After that, I made my home a little nicer visually in a spur of “life is too short, treat yourself to at least a few things occasionally”. I bought some decorations for the walls - a painting, crystal decorations, a small shelf, a wall chain showing the moon phases. The pandemic and lockdowns were surprisingly not adding on much; I did paint a few canvases I hung up in one spot specifically for that spot, but most of the time I played Warframe, was otherwise on my computer or walked the dog.

The next reason to loosen up was my now-wife. We started long-distance, so her visits necessitated her bringing along more stuff than you’d usually might. That was tough for me to handle because I had to see this visual clutter that had no proper place assigned. My wife also has ADHD and is a bit disorganized, with different standards of what is tidy, and to her brain, anything that is a surface can be used to hold random stuff. In all those years, she has really improved on that to a surprising degree, but I too had to let go of the rigidity in my expectations and fucking chill for once. I added more things that made the space feel more home-ly, even stuff from creative classes I took.

After she moved here into her own apartment, she still spends a lot of time in mine and doesn’t wanna go fetch stuff from hers all the time, which is why half of the items in this apartment are not even mine now. This kept pushing my limits, because for the longest time I told myself I’d never live with someone else again because I hate how their stuff takes over everything and keeps hiding mine. I will still freak out a little and talk about burning my apartment down when she keeps leaving 🚨 letters on the sofa 🚨 but I am calmer and have gotten used to a lot.

In general, my wife has made me a much happier, calmer person. I am more present, more secure, almost never stuck in thought spirals and I feel relaxed and safe, which in turn made a lot of arbitrary rules, routines and boundaries disappear; things my brain created in an attempt to keep me safe and calm, but that were no longer needed. I am still a bit of a control freak about the state of the apartment and the order of things in general, though.

Next events to loosen me up were the diagnoses in 2024 and the tough times since. I had to spend so much time at home unable to do much besides rot, and occasionally still have to when illnesses act up, so I saw a new need to make my living situation more comfortable. You get sick of your space when you cannot help but look at it a lot every day, and you don’t wanna exit the hospital just to enter your own hospital at home.

This was also a whole other rodeo of “Life is short and you should invite a little fun and whimsy into it”, together with a healthy dose of taking some aspects of life less seriously, focusing on what really matters and no longer caring what some people think about some stuff. Now I wanted comforting and inspiring stuff around me, things that made me happy, some things that represent aspects of myself and remind me of something I want to focus on - like creation.

For example, I hung up that wall tapestry with the jellyfish flying out of the Paint window. I had already bought it years ago, but after it arrived, found it too colorful and cluttering, clashing with the aesthetic of my home. Now, it was perfect. It keeps inspiring me to draw. I also took some stuff out of the drawers they were in and put them on the desk. There’s a box that holds my markers, stickers, washi tape and more, and having it there visually reminds me to create more and I can do it instantly. Books I could need for my studies or this blog are also on the desk now, other books I read too, so I remember to continue them.

I have a little magnet board with my own art, some MtG stuff, a picture of a pet I had as a child, and the cards noyb sent me. I see it every time I am at my desk and it keeps my spirits up about data protection and always reminds me to do some volunteer work. I also have several small Sanrio vinyl plushies there, and seeing them makes me happy. They’re cute and soft, and when I miss my late dog who died in 2023, I touch the ear of the Kuromi plushie, because it feels exactly like his.

Every time I make a pointless little scribble in my notebook, I’m grateful I am no longer trapped in a cage of my own making, in the sense that I no longer obsess over whether my words or art are worth the paper, and how going on with this will create a number of paper journals that take up space, creating clutter.

I feel like I am happier over smaller things now. I allow myself to take up space and cost resources. My wardrobe is more colorful now and my wigs are, too; whenever I am out and about outside of work, I might dress maximalist with lots of decoration and pink or neongreen. I put on more experimental makeup. I’m inspired by people like the Tasselfairy and her Cloudland, Sweet Pickles, Candycourn and their colorful home, and Mochii’s clown makeup.

I feel more comfortable investing in myself physically. I allow myself to see beyond function and barebones utility and to feel joy over a frivolous detail, a color, a modification. I care about the “character” of a piece of clothing or furniture now. Thanks to treatment, I have more energy, so not everything has to be laid out in a way that saves on energy and keeps me from exhaustion. It seems minor, but leaving all surfaces free was also so I could dust in one swoop, and other cleaning things alike; now I might have to move something, but at I feel no added exhaustion.

I have gotten attached to things in my apartment now, and I would be sad if I lost them in a fire. Compared to my indifference years ago, I recognize this not as weakness, but as a sign of being loved and loving. Years ago, I had nothing of sentimental value because there was no one in my life. Now, what I would lose are the great photo album gifts with pictures of my wedding, the amazingly crafted paper cube with congratulations cards from our friends, I would lose gifts, cards and letters of my wife, I would lose art and sewn clothes I spent a lot of effort making, and the bricksets we spent days building together.

What hasn’t changed is that I still hate shopping and am usually pretty tense during, and strongly opposed to trying stuff on in the fitting rooms. I am very picky about anything that’s not a necessity; you have to fight me on a lot of “nice to have but not necessary” potential purchases. If I don’t see something that I am instantly obsessed with and that doesn’t leave my mind and creates a sort of tunnel vision where all the rest fades away, I don’t buy anything; and that feeling is rare. I can easily talk myself out of any purchase, and I can accidentally spend years not buying new clothes. I still prefer most stuff to be hidden away in drawers and the like, everything to have a spot, and to keep all surfaces free or tidy. I still want very little stuff, but within reason now, especially as things cost more than their price tag.

I’m looking so forward to the arrival of my two Usahanas, because she reminds me how joyful it is to be colorful, and that I wanna embody what I enjoy in others, and hopefully add to it. Inspiring people to be themselves more, to be less afraid of being seen as unprofessional if they wear this or that, to not be afraid when looks and personality or interests clash, that it isn’t embarrassing in public, and that we could use more people who dress like they just jumped out of a cartoon world.

When I see unique, colorful, happy and interesting outfits and makeup on others, it brightens up my day and it makes me more comfortable, like all kinds of styles and bodies are allowed to exist. Also, we are so rich in opportunities and access to things nowadays; we have the means to easily make a space or outfit cuter, cooler, more whimsical, experimental, customized, and we should make use of that! When society had less, we had statues and stucco elements and castles, and now that we have more, we have white cubes - something needs to change :)

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Published 28 Apr, 2026

#2026