Show Notes
It’s taken me longer than I’d like to admit to learn that “more” isn’t always the answer. More space, more stuff, more goals, more plans… they sound good in theory. But in reality? More often leads to burnout, not contentment. The more I tried to add, the more scattered I felt. And eventually, I had to ask myself the question no one wants to face: What if I already have enough and just didn’t notice? So this is a reflection on enoughness. Not in a theoretical, minimalist sort of way, but in the real-life, real-mess, small-flat-with-kids kind of way. Because if there’s one place that’s taught me how to live inside the word enough, it’s this 650-square-foot home, with its shared bedrooms, balcony garden, books stacked in corners, and never-quite-empty laundry basket. From “Passing Through” to Choosing to Stay When we first moved in, it felt temporary. A stepping stone. Something we’d outgrow. That’s the story, isn’t it? That small homes are a phase to get through before you graduate to something bigger. Bigger house, bigger life. It’s what we’re told to aim for. But somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for the upgrade. I stopped planning the next move. I stopped thinking of this space as something I had to get out of and started seeing it as something I could grow into. And that changed everything. Small Space, Big Lessons Living small has forced us to be deliberate. We can’t accumulate without consequence. Every item has to earn its keep. Every corner has to work. But that’s not a burden, it’s a gift. It’s made us intentional. It’s made us creative. It’s made us notice what we truly value and what we really don’t. This home isn’t picture-perfect. It’s loud. Lived in. Sometimes chaotic. The laundry dries wherever there is space, the kids share a bedroom (ours!), and storage is… let’s call it “inventive.” But none of that feels like a limitation anymore. It feels like a choice. Not “we make it work,” but this works because we’ve chosen it. And that? That’s enough. Enoughness Is a Mindset This way of living has changed how I see everything. It’s not about settling. It’s about rooting into what’s already here. Enoughness, for me, has become a kind of rebellion, a refusal to keep chasing just because the world says I should. And it’s everywhere. It shows up in our home education, not as a curated Pinterest-perfect setup, but as learning that happens at the kitchen table, on the sofa, out on walks, in the real rhythms of our life. We don’t need a separate classroom or a shelf full of printables. We need books, conversation, curiosity and space to be together. That’s enough. Cooking Slower & Living Deeper In the kitchen, enoughness tastes like from-scratch meals made with simple ingredients and zero pressure to be impressive. Our kitchen isn’t huge. Our tools are basic. But the food is real, made with love, and often stirred while someone reads out loud or tells me a wild story about the Ice Age. We grow what we can, even on a second floor balcony and our allotment. We preserve what we’re able to. We waste less. We eat better. Building a Business That Doesn’t Burn Me Out It’s also shaped the way I run my business. I’ve stopped buying into the idea that growth always means scaling. Bigger isn’t always better, not if it costs me my time, my values, or my presence with my family. I want my work to fit inside my life, not overtake it. Enoughness in business means building something sustainable. Honest. Grounded. Something that pays the bills and makes an impact without requiring me to trade my whole self to keep it afloat. For me, that’s success. Embracing enoughness has given me breathing room. Margin. The space to enjoy my life instead of constantly trying to upgrade it. This Is More Than Enough There’s this myth that living well means always levelling up. More square footage. More output. More ambition. But I think a lot of us are just tired. Full in all the wrong ways. Drowning in choices and clutter and pressure. And in tha
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There are some things I used to compromise on without really noticing and I would explain them away as nothing more than practicality. Listen, I don’t think all compromise is bad because obviously it isn’t and sometimes life requires compromise… none of us are moving through life getting exactly what we want at every moment. But slowly, over the past few years, I have started to realise that some of the compromises I was making weren’t neutral meaning they were costing me something.
I think one of the most grounding things seasonal living has taught me is that not every season asks the same thing from us, and I don’t just mean the seasons outside the window, although I do mean those too. I mean the quieter seasons of our lives, the less obvious ones, the seasons of holding things together, of building. The seasons of rest, of tending, recovering, recalibrating, waiting, grieving, beginning again. The seasons that don’t arrive neatly on a calendar like the actual seasons, but still shape the way we move through our days.
I think one of the most uncomfortable parts of living intentionally is realising that your life might stop making sense to other people and that’s not because you’re doing anything wrong and it’s not because they are doing anything wrong either, but because difference, when it is lived honestly, has a way of unsettling the stories people carry about what a good life is supposed to look like. There is an unspoken expectation in modern life that our choices should be broadly recognisable. Ideally, they should also be explainable. If we choose something different around work, family, home, ambition, money, education or pace, we are often expected to justify it in a way that reassures other people we haven’t made a terrible mistake, it’s as though our lives need to pass some kind of public approval test before we are allowed to feel settled inside them. But life doesn’t need to be universally appealing to be deeply right for you, in fact, it only needs to be coherent to the person living it snd this is something I have had to learn slowly, and sometimes uncomfortably, over the years. I live a life that many people wouldn’t choose; I home educate my children, I live in a small, 650sq ft home by choice, I centre my days around home, rhythm, presence and ordinary life rather than constant expansion, I identify as a homemaker and I have opted out, where I can, from certain forms of pace, productivity and visibility. Not as a rejection of modern life entirely and certainly not because I think everyone should live like me, but because this is how I stay well inside the life I am actually living. And those choices are not meant to be persuasive (a very common assumption) they are simply mine and I speak to those who either associate with this way of living too, or desire to live in a similar way. I think that is where so much unnecessary tension begins. We assume that when someone makes a different choice, they must be making a statement about ours. * If someone home educates, it can be read as a criticism of school. * If someone stays in a small home, it can be read as a rejection of ambition. * If someone chooses a slower pace, it can be read as laziness. * If someone centres home, family or care, it can be read as regressive, especially for women, whose choices are so often treated as public property and moral declarations rather than personal decisions. But someone else’s inability to imagine themselves in your life is not a verdict on yours; it just means they wouldn’t choose it, it is that simple. And it’s also fine, they don’t have to. I wouldn’t choose lots of other people’s lives either. I can scroll through Instagram and see all sorts of lifestyles that make me think, “Absolutely not for me, thank you kindly”, but I don’t need to announce that in the comments section like a woman holding a clipboard at the gates of acceptable living, because it isn’t my life. And this is the bit we seem to forget… not everything needs our approval or agreement and not everything needs to be filtered through the lens of whether we personally would choose it. Sometimes another person’s life can simply exist. When I first started home educating, I noticed this very quickly. I had made the decision before my first child was even born, so it wasn’t sudden or impulsive. It was something we had thought about deeply. It was a long standing choice rooted in our values, our family rhythm and what we wanted for our children and yet even saying that can make people uncomfortable. Because if I say home education is the best choice for my children, some people hear, “School is the wrong choice for yours” and that’s not an assumption, I have literally had this accusation levied at me more than once. But that is of course not what I am saying… I don’t think every child should be home educated and I don’t think every parent has the capacity, desire or circumstances to home educate. I don’t think school is wrong for every child but I do think home education is
I think many of us are exhausted not because our lives are too small, but because we’ve been taught they should always be bigger, better, more remarkable, more productive and more visible.
Opting out is often presented as the answer isn’t it? The way back to yourself or the antidote to burnout. Or even the thing that will finally make life feel manageable again.