For the past year our family has lived in a 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment unit occupying the second-story of a duplex in Missoula, Montana. We moved there at the end of last summer during our transition into being a bi-state family.
Moving to the apartment from our previous rental house meant giving up a few things: a dedicated home office, a hyper-functional kitchen, and a playground across the street. But the apartment had some important upgrades: no chemical sensitivities for Joshua (he was highly sensitive to the rental house), air conditioning, the best neighborhood and school district, and cheaper rent. The apartment was comfortable and curated. It was safe. It had a little yard with a stunning maple tree which gave us just enough shade in the heat of the summer. We hung our hammock from the maple and would swing there for hours, looking up at the enormous star-like leaves and blue-bird sky. We could stroll easily to all of the best parts of town, the river trail, parks, school, the farmers market, even our favorite cafe. It was a great home, but in several irreconcilable ways it wasn’t the right fit.
It took a while for me to realize and admit that my business was suffering in the confines of the apartment. And I struggled with my inability to find solutions to the barriers I encountered in the space. Being the Reformer and Achiever that I am, I had a deep sense of guilt over my failure to somehow make it work. The apartment had a laundry list of positives, yet I was fixated on its deficiencies — I kept telling myself that a stronger more capable person would figure out how to resolve the issues. (N.B. The “I can fix this” mentality and associated guilt is what drove me deeper into my marriage which I should have left far earlier than I did.)
After several conversations Joshua and I realized the apartment wasn’t going to work long-term, so we formulated a plan to find a home to rent. With the lessons learned from our apartment experiment, we discussed the new rental’s non-negotiables and we agreed we wouldn’t relocate until we found a place that met all of our needs: lack of chemical sensitivities, a great kitchen, lots of sunlight, private space for an office, a yard, the same school district, and a modern aesthetic. Granted, it’s a less-than minimal list of needs for our home. But it’s a list that honors our values. Taking the time to thoughtfully and honestly craft our needs list resulted in us finding a home that’s conducive to us continuing to live a values-driven life in the years ahead.
Through this process we’ve re-learned an important lesson: in order to live the life we want, we have to continually assess our values and priorities, give ourselves some grace for perceived failures, and then be flexible enough to move in a new direction.
Minimalism helps us keep a clear view on our values and maintain the flexibility to pivot when necessary.