Minimalism and Mental Health

As I was recording my episode with Shafi (to be released this Wednesday, 9/16), our conversation veered into the power of minimalism. More specifically, we began to talk about the power of limitations and boundaries, and the positive effects it can have on mental health. Minimalism is often recommended as a mental health coping mechanism. People may indulge in fasting, or donating items that don’t serve them (Marie Kondo? Is that you?). The idea is that with fewer possessions, one can clear the mind.

For me, the word “minimalism” carries more weight. Before I became a high school math teacher, I was an engineer and designer of consumer products. While the discipline itself was interesting, it clashed with the urgency I felt to reduce my carbon footprint on the planet. It also meant that since products were my profession, I tied my self-worth to material things. I often wrestled with the urge to trash prototypes and clear my desktop. Manufacturers would send me prototypes of my designs, and I would wonder what I was supposed to do with this “first draft of a product” for the rest of my life. Especially if it was made of non-eco friendly materials. It would weigh on me. Eventually, one of the reasons I left the field is because I couldn’t negotiate the desire for a minimalist lifestyle with getting paid to add plastic to the world. I could not mitigate the guilt I had for working against a cause that was so important to me. It affected my mental health.

When I made the decision to leave the world of consumer product design, I made a commitment to a minimalist lifestyle. I no longer want to be surrounded by symbols that prove I “made it” as a child of immigrants, or as a woman of color in a predominantly white, male field. I began to find joy in empty shelves, empty boxes, empty pages, empty canvases. I seeked opportunities to practice mindfulness (hello, podcasting!) That’s how I stumbled into education. I realized that education, by nature, is a field that requires reflection, self evaluation, and an urgency for immediate implementation. These are the same things I loved about product design, but without the end goal of chasing and creating material goods that would never bring me the peace I wanted in life.

I loved engineering and product design. And to be clear, I don’t believe that all products are garbage. I believe products solve everyday problems, and make people happy. Many (but definitely not all) products are worth having, and worth making. I loved the work I did. I still find design theory to be fascinating. I still read about manufacturing methods and advancements in industry. But my mind was clouded. By trying to justify a profession that was not personally fulfilling, I let myself become clouded by consumerism and capitalism. And even though I have always recognized the harmful systems of the industrialized world, I had no idea how to live my life without directly contributing to that world by way of my profession. So if I can’t find joy in products, why make them? 

There is a correlation between too much material wealth and the development of ego. A map of this correlation looks different for everyone. It can be hard to predict how materialism can affect mental health. Maybe for me, the threshold was much lower than average. It affected me, and it affected the people around me. The worst part is that it gave society power over me.

I would encourage anyone reading this who has ever taken any interest in minimalism to reflect on the ways in which society, ego, and materials affect your mental health. As I move towards an increasingly minimalist lifestyle, I find that I am forced to focus on making the things I do have work for me. I am learning to enjoy things in life when they are hard. And moreover, I have learned to stop tying my happiness to objects.

by Tanushree