When Less Means More Sanity

Many of us dream of living in a bigger space. We fantasize about everyone having their own bedroom, dual sinks in the master bathroom, and a giant island for food prep in the kitchen. Whatever space we’re in, it feels like a little – or a lot – more room would be more than welcomed.

When we transitioned from a house with our own yard and garage to a town home for law school, I mourned the loss of space. We tried to move the same amount of things and people to a smaller home and discovered this just makes for clutter and forgotten stuff in storage boxes. Every space has its pros and cons, but even this smaller space had the same perpetual problem I experienced in our house – it never felt clean, no matter how many times I organized or scrubbed.

I live in what I considered a compact space for 5 people in Iowa City a month ago. We have 3 bedrooms, one and half baths, and about 1500 square feet. Our galley kitchen is cramped and we lack closets for shoes and coats. Some days, I look around me and groan at the limited space and the simultaneous endless cycle of never-clean.

I’ve now packed my home temporarily for two summer internships and each time I am overwhelmed by the sheer amount of “stuff” our family has – toys, clothes, dishes, art supplies, socks, and random items we might need some day. We’ve purged a few times with trips to Stuff and Goodwill since our move 2 years ago, but sorting stuff and keeping up with day to day is a time-consuming task.

We’ve now  lived in England for 5 weeks, following a one-month stay in France. To say that life in the United States is super-sized comparatively to life in Europe would be an understatement. Our hotel rooms in France were dominated by large beds with virtually no space to walk or store items. Need a place to put your suitcase? Maybe you can sit on it.

A large drink in France and England is the size you imagine from your childhood. Refill is a strange term. Nearly everything is more compact; from washers, to ovens, to cars. The only exceptions: historical buildings and parks. Space is limited and expensive here and my 1500 square feet (especially for the cost in Iowa) would be true luxury to many

Our flat in Banbury brought a whole new perspective. Every inch of the place had a purpose, from the compact kitchen, leading into a minuscule dining area, to the family room. The 5 of us shared two bedrooms, two bathrooms (a major plus!) and didn’t need to worry about storage, a garage, or a yard.

We brought about 10 days of clothing for each family member, washed in the tiny machine under the sink in the kitchen. The flat included a limited supply of dishes, all needing hand washing, and no drying. Seating was minimal and the 5 of us couldn’t sit on the couch or at the table together. The kids had a few toys and books to play with.

Some days I mourned the space, but other days I reveled in the sanity of it. 10 days of clothing per person means more frequent washing, but less clothing to manage or organize. Our few toys and books fit neatly in drawers, no complicated clean up system necessary. A consistent cleaning of dishes, wiping down the table, and a quick sweep meant a tidy pick up. With less space and less stuff, I could actually make it through a day without feeling like my efforts at cleanliness and organization are a total waste.

Have I given up on my dream of those double sinks or single bedrooms? Not necessarily. I’m currently in a larger space in London, albeit still compact, and feeling less claustrophobic. But I am learning to appreciate how less can mean more, how stuff can clutter our minds and relationships, in addition to our homes.

I feel inspired to keep sorting through that storage and the things we infrequently use cluttering up our Iowa home. Could that space be used more efficiently to store seasonal clothes, toys, and equipment that are useful, but clutter our lives? What would a toy room look like devoid of storage bins and used completely for play, where kids visited the storage room or a closet to choose one box to bring out at a time, with the room free for running, racing, and imagination?

We also have dear friends in the US who live in a larger space, but they keep stuff at a minimum. Their house feels open, airy, and peaceful. The space feels like possibility and imagination is valued over entertainment. It is clearly possible to have room to be together as a family, find your own space to breathe, and keep things orderly without filling your home with things.

What does all of this mean for me? I am not entirely sure. With a baby due in October, my home will not magically become organized or clutter free after I arrive home at the end of August. But I can keep the vision and work toward it gradually. I can remember the beauty of minimalism and practice a new gratitude for space.