What packing my life into 30 boxes taught me

Until about two weeks ago, I was living out of a suitcase, and had been for more than six months. It started when we sold our property in London and packed up everything we owned into a storage unit. My entire life: objects, furniture, keepsakes, kitchen tools, all the little “just in case” things, boiled down to a few boxes. And then, even smaller, into a suitcase I’d carry with me. A few outfits, my laptop, essential toiletries, and the Aeropress I now consider a non-negotiable.

It’s strange how quickly you learn what matters when you don’t have space for anything that doesn’t. And even more so when I recently unpacked it all months later and I cam to the shocking realisation I can live without 80% of what was in that storage unit.

The past two weeks were spent frantically unpacking, cleaning, and organising a home we’ll stay in for just a few months, while we continue looking for our dream place, which (if I’m honest) still hasn’t materialised.

What I actually need is very little: a few trusted outfits, my work tools: a laptop, headphones, my trusty wireless mouse and keyboard, microphone and camera, a way to make good coffee and my Kindle. After three or four months of living out of a suitcase, it finally clicked. I found the process weirdly liberating, freeing in a way I hadn’t expected. More stuff meant more wasted energy. My mantra for 2025 is simple: simplify, simplify, simplify.

At first, it was uncomfortable. A constant negotiation with space, a low-level background stress about what I’d forgotten or left behind. But over time, it became clarifying. There’s something about physically letting go of so much that invites you to start questioning what you’re holding onto in other ways too.

It made me think about consumption, not just what we buy, but what we let in. The food we eat. The conversations we engage in. The content we scroll. The habits we repeat. The people we say yes to out of guilt or autopilot.

We live in a culture that rewards accumulation. More productivity, more options, more to-do lists. It’s easy to confuse “full” with “fulfilled.” But living light forced me to slow down and start noticing what actually nourishes me, and what simply fills space.

So here’s what I’ve been reflecting on:

Consumption isn’t just physical, it’s emotional, mental, energetic.
You might be eating clean, decluttering your home, and hitting inbox zero, but still feel mentally fried and emotionally overstimulated. Why? Because we consume with our attention too. The endless feeds, the background noise, the multitasking, it all adds up. It’s a diet of noise, and most of us are overfed.

Habits are consumption too.
That quick email check first thing in the morning. That scroll before bed. The “I’ll just do one more thing” that turns into an hour. I started noticing how often I was reacting to my day instead of creating it. When I removed distractions, by default, because I didn’t have my usual routines, I realised how much those small moments were shaping my mood, energy, and focus.

Energy is a currency, spend it wisely.
Being in transit so often meant I had to be more intentional about how I used my time. There were fewer spontaneous coffee chats, fewer things to “just do quickly.” Everything had to be thought through, scheduled, and prioritised. It made me more aware of how I invest my energy, and where it drains without return.

Fewer options, more clarity.
Living with only a few choices, what to wear, what to eat, and what to do with free time actually made decision-making easier. I felt lighter mentally. Less choice meant less friction. And the clarity that followed helped me move through the day with more ease and focus.

5. Less input, more presence.
Living out of a suitcase forced me to confront downtime. Without endless projects or “stuff” to manage, I had more stillness. And with it, more presence. I had time to sit with my thoughts. And in that space, I started to feel more connected to what I actually wanted to sit with my thoughts, read, study, and plot my next moves in life and at work.

6. Just because it fits doesn’t mean it belongs.
I kept thinking about this metaphor every time I re-packed my suitcase. Yes, something could come with me. But did it need to? Did it serve me? Or was I just bringing it along because it was familiar? That question became a guiding principle for everything, from how I spent my mornings to the kinds of relationships I wanted to maintain.

You might be wondering: why does any of this matter to you?

You don’t need to sell your house or live out of a suitcase to feel the impact of too much. You’re probably already feeling it: the overwhelm, the low-grade anxiety, the mental clutter that makes it hard to hear yourself think.

The answer isn’t always more space or more self-optimising. Sometimes, the answer is subtraction.

Here are a few ways I’ve been applying this mindset and how you might, too:

• Audit your digital consumption. What are you scrolling? What kind of input are you feeding your mind? Clean it up like you’d clean your kitchen.

• Simplify your routines. Is every task actually necessary? Can something be paused, simplified, or delegated?

• Reduce decision fatigue. Limit your choices where it makes sense: meals, outfits, workflows, so you can free up space for what matters.

• Be honest about your energy drains. Who or what consistently leaves you feeling depleted? What boundaries would serve you better?

• Make room for stillness. You don’t have to meditate or journal (unless that works for you). Just allow moments where you’re not consuming anything, no content, no conversation, no doing.

• Replace the impulse to fill time with the opportunity to feel time. Even two minutes of silence can reconnect you to yourself.

To guide this process, here are a few questions I now ask myself regularly before I say yes to anything—an opportunity, a commitment, even a purchase:

• Does this genuinely add something meaningful, or is it just filling space?

• Is this a lasting yes or a fleeting impulse?

• Does this align with the version of me I’m working toward?

• Am I choosing this because it serves me or because it’s familiar or expected?

• Will this contribute to a memory, a connection, or a deeper experience?

• Would I bring this with me if I had to pack my life into 30 boxes again?

These questions aren’t about restriction. They’re about choice.

I’m not anti-consumption. I’m just learning to consume more consciously, whether it’s a new routine, a new item, or a new idea. And if you’re in a season of change, transition, or even quiet burnout… maybe this is a moment to ask: What am I full of? And does any of it actually fill me?

Because living lighter has a surprising benefit: you hear yourself more clearly. And you realise that what matters most was never in the suitcase to begin with.