Sometimes I feel I can’t keep up with the world. There are so many events happening at any given moment, so many experiences waiting to happen, so many things begging for my attention. And I tend to ignore them all. I got good at ignoring things, otherwise I would have gone mad years ago.

T his is a story about my minimalism.

Minimalism was a trend a few years ago when suddenly a lot of people started writing, talking, making films, well, just doing stuff about it. It’s not my job to judge them, nor is it my job to say whether they were wrong or not. I just observed. And I was silent, part of my minimalism is a lack of willingness to participate in current trends. I prefer to study, to think, to adapt slowly but efficiently. If something suits me, I’ll adapt it, whether it’s mainstream or not. As it happens, almost all mainstream things don’t suit me very well, but maybe one day some of them will.

But I promised my story.

My minimalism isn’t the ultimate goal, it’s the result of some experiences. It’s not something I consciously embrace, it’s something I just do because it’s natural. I can’t remember, or rather I can’t say, the exact moment when it all started. Maybe it was around the time when someone close to me died. Maybe it was around the time that someone else close to me died. Or when someone else ended up in hospital with a cancer diagnosis and emergency surgery. It was definitely around the time I was sacked. I can remember when I was burnt out and going through the mental breakdown, it was already there, helping me to stay sane. It built up in every moment when I thought I was going to die. And there were moments like that.

My minimalism is the result of pain.

In the face of such events, you learn to appreciate the little things. And you learn that you don’t really need much. You learn what is necessary.

What is essential.

Because my minimalism isn’t really about having less stuff or staying at home. It is about experiencing life as it is, for as long as it is. It is about enjoying what I have without worrying about what I want.

But that’s only part of the story.

A An important part, but only a part. The other part is about how my brain is wired. To focus on something, I have to shut out all distractions. And to do anything, I have to focus. I’m good at focusing, I really am. I can get a lot done in a short period of time, but it all comes at a cost. And the cost is energy, mental energy that we all use to do things. But great focus comes at a great cost. And my brain uses a lot of energy to process everything around me. It processes everything all the time, all the time, shapes, colours, smells, sounds, everything. At some point I realised that I can spend a certain amount of energy processing the environment or thinking consciously about things that are important. Rejecting distractions helps a lot. I have to be a minimalist, otherwise I’ll fall into anxious states of mind. I didn’t choose minimalism, it became the cure.

My minimalism is the result of my life and the cure for my brain’s shortcomings. It took me some time to discover all this, and even more to admit that some things aren’t for me.

Social media is not for me, but I’ve already said that here. A few times. Maybe too many times. But there is more. Concerts aren’t for me. Driving cars isn’t. Going to parties, going to the cinema, spending more than an hour in a shopping mall, wearing colorful clothes, deciding what to wear every day, thinking about which app to use for a particular action.

There are a lot of things I’ve rejected in the name of sanity. Am I exceptional? To some extent, yes. As we all are. Am I the only one? I’m sure not. What’s more, I’m pretty sure that the thing that most distinguishes me from others is not that I have certain qualities, but simply that I’m aware of them. I don’t think I’m the only one who benefits from rejecting the hustle and bustle of the world, everyone would. But maybe our world would collapse, who knows.

The life of a monk is not my life. I live in a capital city, near the centre. I work in the centre, I like being there, I even like commuting there. I have modern technology, I use it, I like it to a certain extent, and I can’t imagine living without it. But in the past I tried to follow one rule, and I think I succeeded. The rule was to use the technology and not let it use me.

It’s also part of my minimalism.

Using things consciously is a good way to make sure they don’t start using us. Maybe it sounds a bit unbelievable, things that use people, but it’s enough to use public transport and see all those people glued to their screens and suddenly it’s much more believable. I was there, of course I was there. At some point I realised I was missing something. And all these people who have died, who have been ill, who I miss or would have missed, they all helped me to realise that I don’t want to miss anything. It’s not worth it. Nothing is worth missing our time here, with those we love, with those who love us, or just… with ourselves.

I’ve already written a few times that I’m often bored. But am I? I find myself picking up a mobile phone, looking for something to scroll through, and there’s nothing to scroll through. I’ve read seven books this year, and I’m finishing the eighth, just because I have nothing to do when I’ve finished work and read a few feeds I have in my reader. What can I do? I talk to my partner and a few friends, and I read books.

To emphasise, technology is an important part of everything I do, I use it for work, and I use it to keep in touch with friends who are now all over the world, people I have never met and probably never will. It’s technology that allows me to talk to them, how could I reject it completely? That’s not the point.

The point is to do things consciously.

My life has brought me to the point where minimalism is an important part of my life. It didn’t happen in one day or one week. It took years. And it was all a result of what happened and it’s all natural for the way I think and feel. But it’s not minimalism for minimalism’s sake. It’s my way of experiencing life, appreciating people and moments and even appreciating things. But even to appreciate something material, you have to have time and space to discover it, to spend time with it, to really use it.

That is the point. That is the story.

I’m not writing this to complain that I had a hard time, that’s not the point. I’m writing to point out that for some, minimalism is not a cool trend that looks nice in photos. It’s a result of their experiences and a necessity to stay sane.

My minimalism allows me to live a real life, to enjoy things that I have decided are worth enjoying. It simply makes room in my life for the things that really matter.