Minimalism isn't something I talk about or write about often. In fact I can can on the number of times on one hand when I've mentioned it to anyone other than the husband.
My path towards being minimalistic has been slow and trying. It started when I was sixteen or seventeen - I realised my parents were hoarders and, to be frank, not that cleanly. I knew that I wanted a change and since I couldn't change them (which took me years to realise) I decided to change myself.
My friends always refer to me as the "clean" one the "organised" one the "put-together" one. But this is an entirely new thing in the past six years. It started slowly - getting rid of childhood things, unwanted gifts, etc. In the beginning I bought entirely too many boxes to organize my "stuff" before I realised that I needed to get rid of stuff before I could have any hope of organising.
Now, at twenty-two, I finally feel like I can breathe. I've gotten rid of hundreds of things in the past year and I still have more to go. My goal is to eventually own less than 100 things (not counting books) but I still have ages to go. The first thing I did was write down everything I own (not owned between the husband and I, but mine alone to do with what I please). The list is over 300 lines long in my text editor and that's grouping loads of stuff together!
Minimalism is about simplicity. Simplicity in what you own and how you spend your time. I no longer feel the need to be Superwoman. In fact, I quite enjoy being lazy on occasion. My time is finally, after twenty-two years, my own.
And it's so freeing.