I grew up like many people, circling things in the Argos catalog that I wanted for Christmas, saving my money to buy clothes, accessories, and toys, and dreaming of the day I would be an adult, free to go on shopping sprees like the ones I saw in films.
When I went to university, I had overflowing wardrobes and shoes stored in huge plastic tubs stacked in my student halls. Shopping was a pastime, something to do, a way to browse, to buy, to feel excitement. By the time I was 23, I had accumulated a lot of stuff. But how did I feel? Pretty crap. I had quit university due to complete burnout, and all the things I owned weren’t going to fix that.
The Documentary That Changed Everything
My journey to minimalism began unexpectedly. One evening, my partner was scrolling through Netflix, looking for something for us to watch. I had no idea my life was about to change when he clicked on a documentar: Minimalism.
For the next hour and twenty minutes, I was transfixed. The film exposed the reality of blind consumption, people fighting over TVs on Black Friday, chasing the idea that more stuff meant more happiness. It followed two men who had climbed the corporate ladder, reached the top, and realised that all the shiny new things meant nothing. Then, it contrasted their experience with people who had embraced simplicity, pursued their dreams, and found true freedom in letting go of excess.
It was like a door had opened to a world I didn’t even know existed, minimalism. And it excited me.
The Wake-Up Call
For the first time, I saw my own habits clearly. I had spent years believing that if I just bought the right things, I’d finally feel content. But I never got there. I’d purchase something new, feel a brief spark of excitement, and then find myself back in the same place, wondering why I still didn’t feel fulfilled.
That documentary turned the lights on for me. I finally understood that happiness isn’t found in things, it’s a marketing strategy. A new pair of shoes wasn’t going to fix what was going on inside me.
As soon as the film ended, I started looking around my home with fresh eyes, scanning for anything I didn’t need. Within days, I had built a massive pile of things we hadn’t used or even looked at in years. We carted it all off to the charity shop. The space felt lighter, and so did I. It was like a weight had been lifted.
I know plenty of people watch documentaries, think That was interesting, and then go back to life as normal. But not me. I spent the next seven years watching YouTube videos of people decluttering their homes, families living with less (even with kids), and deep-diving into concepts like Swedish death cleaning. I even watched extreme minimalists, like a woman who slept in a hammock in an empty apartment. That wasn’t for me, but I loved seeing the different ways people embraced simplicity.
Decluttering Everything—Including My Relationship
Then, life took another turn. My partner and I separated. I had no money and nowhere to go. My dad lived six hours away, and that was my best option.
When I packed, I realised that everything I personally owned fit into my car. In that moment of uncertainty of how my life was going to, I also felt a sense of freedom. I didn’t have to rent a huge moving van or stress about squeezing my belongings into the tiny annex where I’d be living. I could simply pack up, hop in the car with my little dog, and start over.
Then, COVID-19 hit.
It felt like the world was ending. In that stillness, I had time to reflect. What had truly mattered in those moments of upheaval? Not the things I owned, but the simplicity of knowing I could adapt, reset, and move forward without being weighed down.
Minimalism Changed Everything
Decluttering became my way of regaining control. The less I owned, the calmer I felt. Each time I took a bag to the charity shop, I felt lighter. The process of pulling everything out, deciding what to keep, and understanding why I was holding onto certain things fascinated me.
I also realised that minimalism isn’t a one-time job, it’s a mindset. Over the years, I’ve continuously refined what I own, making sure that more goes out than comes in (when needed). But I also give myself grace. If I keep something now and later decide I don’t need it, that’s okay.
Do I still sometimes believe that buying something new will improve my life? Yes. I still have moments where I think, This ceramic vase will change everything! But 99% of the time, it doesn’t. It might look nice, but it doesn’t transform my home, my mood, or my life. That realisation keeps me grounded.
From Personal Transformation to Helping Others
By 2022, my other business, Made by Shannon, had finally become a success after ten years. I had achieved what I set out to do. But something was missing.
For so long, I had been learning about minimalism and incorporating its principles into my life. I wanted to help others experience the same clarity, ease, and empowerment that comes from simplifying.
Then, I saw an Instagram post about a professional organising course. It felt like a sign. I signed up, and that’s how my business, Simpl Living Co, was born.
What makes my approach different from other professional organisers is my background in minimalism. I don’t just help people tidy up or tell them buying more plastic storage boxes is the solution, I help them shift their mindset around consumption. Decluttering isn’t just about throwing things out; some people need practical strategies, while others need emotional support. Everyone’s journey is different, and I tailor my approach to meet them where they are.
The Bigger Picture
Today, I work with busy families, overwhelmed parents, and individuals who feel stuck in clutter, both physical and mental. I’ve given talks, been interviewed on podcasts, and run workshops for businesses looking to help their employees declutter their workspace for better productivity and mental clarity.
And it all started with a documentary.
If there’s one thing I hope people take away from my journey, it’s that change is possible.
Minimalism doesn’t have to mean living with one fork and a mattress on the floor. It’s simply about questioning what truly adds value to your life.
Because when you strip away the excess, you make room for what really matters.
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