When Life Feels Too Loud

I want to talk about something I’ve been feeling lately.

I want to talk about simplicity.

And I don’t mean just making basic things simpler. I mean making everything simpler. Day-to-day decisions. Not having so many things on my to-do list. Quieting the noise of the internet, social media, and the news.

I’m just so tired of it all.

Every day, the news is war this and gas prices that. Social media is nothing but “buy this, buy that.” Someone always has the perfect solution to a problem you didn’t know you had. The scrolling goes on and on, and suddenly everything becomes a question: Should I do this? Do I need that? Am I missing out on something?

It creates a never-ending hamster wheel of things we think we need to do.

Want to know one of the saddest things I’ve heard lately from young people, especially those between 17 and 30?

“I just feel so far behind. Everybody else is doing so much, and I don’t have anything figured out.”

Social media has convinced an entire generation that they should have everything figured out before they even graduate high school.

I didn’t have a clue what I really wanted to do—or how I was going to do it—until I was 27. Maybe some people figure it out sooner, but I didn’t have the pressure of social media constantly telling me I was behind. I was given the gift of time to figure things out on my own schedule.

And in the meantime, I had a great life. I lived. I explored. I did the things I wanted to do. I never felt rushed.

I wish more young people today could experience that same freedom.

But I guess what I’m really trying to say is this: none of us are immune to feeling that pressure. Some of us are just better at rejecting the constant barrage of information that tries to convince us we aren’t doing enough, achieving enough, or living up to expectations—whether those expectations come from others or from ourselves.

As I get older, I want simple.

I want safe.

I want peace.

Recently, my husband and I went on a week-long vacation. We stayed in a basic hotel room—nothing fancy. At one point, I found myself thinking, “I could actually live like this.”

Simple. Smaller spaces. Less maintenance.

Then I started thinking about where we lived when we were first married. We had an 1,100-square-foot condo with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was plenty of space for us. The second bedroom was only used on the occasional visit from my mom—although I’ll confess, I did use the closet for clothes that weren’t in my regular rotation.

Maintenance was minimal. It was comfortable.

And lately, I find myself longing for that kind of simplicity again.

Before life became so complicated.

Before the world started telling me I should do more, be more, give more, get more.

That’s the kind of peace I’m longing for.

That’s what I wish my children could have.

I know people have their reasons for staying in large homes. It’s familiar. It’s paid for. It’s where they raised their family and made memories. Maybe they still host family gatherings. Maybe they feel guilty because the kids don’t want to see the family home sold.

Or maybe they think they need to keep the house because it’s what society expects.

And maybe keeping up with the Joneses is slowly draining the life out of them.

At some point, we have to stop and ask ourselves a simple question:

What do I really want?

Not what my neighbors want.

Not what social media says I should want.

Not what society expects me to want.

What would make life more peaceful for me?

Your memories won’t disappear because you live in a different house.

In fact, you might discover a new sense of freedom. A new excitement. A new adventure waiting for you on the other side of letting go.

When I think about downsizing someday, I don’t dream about a bigger house.

I dream about a tiny home on a piece of acreage.

I dream about drinking my coffee or tea on the porch while listening to the birds and watching the wildlife.

I want a field of wildflowers instead of a perfectly manicured lawn.

I dream about living a life that suits me—not the life other people think I should be living.

Something manageable.

Something that doesn’t take an entire day to clean.

Something that doesn’t require $15,000 to $20,000 every time the roof needs to be replaced.

I want enough land that if my children decide they want to build nearby someday, they can.

A place that is comfortable and accessible, but also encourages me to go outside, explore, and enjoy nature.

Because only when we start blocking out the noise can we begin making decisions about what we truly want out of life.

And maybe, just maybe, simplicity isn't about having less.

Maybe it's about finally having enough.