Show Notes
Spring has a way of making us want to throw open the windows, clear out the junk drawer, and scrub every surface until it gleams. There’s something about the longer days and lighter evenings that stirs up the urge for a fresh start. But while we’re wiping down shelves and hauling out bags of donations, how often do we think about the clutter we can’t see? I’m talking about the emotional and mental mess, the overwhelm, the overcommitting, the perfectionism that quietly weighs us down. The things we carry around in our heads and hearts long after they’ve outlived their purpose. So today, let’s talk about a different kind of spring cleaning the kind that makes space in your soul. Let’s slow down and journey together through the seasons with simplicity and intention. Subscribe to receive simple musings directly in your inbox.
Letting Go of Mental Clutter We all know what it feels like to walk into a room that’s messy and chaotic. Your eyes don’t know where to land, your mind feels scattered, and it’s hard to focus. Now, imagine that same disarray but inside your head. Mental clutter shows up in so many ways: * Overwhelm from trying to juggle too many responsibilities. * Overcommitting because you’re afraid of letting people down. * Perfectionism keeping you stuck, convincing you that if it’s not flawless, it’s not worth doing. Sound familiar? Me too. For a long time, I was the queen of overcommitting. I’d agree to things before checking my calendar, thinking I could somehow squeeze in one more thing. I’d say yes when my whole being was begging for a no. And perfectionism? She was my unwanted sidekick. I’d rewrite emails three times before sending them. I’d overthink captions to the point of deleting them. It was exhausting. But here’s what I’ve learned: you can’t create a slow and simple life if your mind is constantly racing. You can’t feel at ease if your thoughts are tangled up in ‘shoulds’ and ‘not enoughs’. How to Clear the Mental Clutter: * Simplify your inputs: Cut back on the noise. Mute accounts that leave you feeling inadequate. Reduce notifications. Give yourself permission to answer messages when you have capacity, not instantly. * Set gentle boundaries: Protect your peace by saying no, even when it’s uncomfortable. It’s okay to turn down a request or step back from a commitment if it’s stretching you too thin. * Ditch perfectionism: Done is better than perfect. Let good enough be enough. You’re allowed to send the email, share the post, or finish the project without polishing it to oblivion. I set up a Buy Me a Coffee as a simple and meaningful way for those who enjoy my work to support the abundance of free content I create. From my podcast, newsletters, and Instagram posts to the thoughtful resources I share, so much of what I do is fueled by a love for slow, simple, and seasonal living. If my content has ever inspired, encouraged, or supported you on your journey, and you’d like to give back in a small way, buying me a coffee is a beautiful way to do so and starts at £1. Every contribution helps me continue sharing free content while also supporting the time, energy, and love that goes into creating it. Your support, whether through a coffee or simply by engaging with my content, means the world to me. Thank you for being part of this slow and intentional space! Refreshing Routines & Creating Space for Rest Spring is nature’s gentle nudge to refresh, to shed what feels heavy and make room for lightness. And that doesn’t just mean deep-cleaning your kitchen cupboards. It also means taking a good look at your daily rhythms. I used to have this habit of clinging to routines that no longer worked for me. Even when they felt clunky and draining, I’d stick with them out of habit. But spring is a beautiful reminder that it’s okay to let your routines evolve with the season. Ask yourself: * Are your current rhythms fuelling or draining you? * Do you need more slowness in your mornings or more stillness in your evenings? *
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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.