Why Everything Feels Like Too Much
The quiet power of making life a little simpler
By Claire Bennett | The Everyday
There are days when nothing particularly bad happens, and yet by dinner you feel completely spent.
You answered some emails. Paid a bill. Looked for the password to an account you haven't used since last year. Responded to a few text messages. Made an appointment. Checked the weather. Scrolled through the news. Tried to remember whether you actually ordered the thing you put in your online cart three days ago.
None of it was especially difficult.
But somehow, all of it was exhausting.
I don't think we're imagining it. Modern life has become crowded in ways that are surprisingly difficult to see.
Our homes may be larger than those our grandparents grew up in. Our appliances are better. Information is instantaneous. Groceries can appear at the front door. We can deposit a check without visiting a bank and talk face-to-face with someone thousands of miles away.
Technology has removed countless inconveniences from our lives.
And yet many of us walk around feeling as though we're perpetually behind.
Maybe the problem isn't that life has become harder.
Maybe there's simply too much of it.
A Thousand Tiny Decisions
Think about how many decisions you make before lunch.
What should I wear?
Should I answer that message now?
Is that email important?
Do I need to reorder this?
Should I cancel that subscription?
What should we have for dinner?
Is this notification something I need to check?
Should I watch this video someone sent me?
Do I need another password for this?
Where did I save that document?
None of these decisions is particularly significant. But they accumulate.
Psychologists sometimes call this decision fatigue—the mental weariness that comes from repeatedly making choices. And modern life gives us an almost endless supply of them.
A grocery store can contain dozens of varieties of something as simple as toothpaste. A streaming service offers thousands of movies when all you really want is something decent to watch for an hour.
Even relaxation requires decisions.
And then there's the digital world riding around in our pockets.
News alerts.
Emails.
Group texts.
Social media.
Calendar reminders.
Bank notifications.
Weather warnings.
Package deliveries.
App updates.
Somebody you haven't spoken to since high school posting photographs from Cancun.
Our brains were never designed to process this much information every waking hour.
Yet we've somehow come to believe that keeping up with all of it is normal.
Clutter Isn't Just Stuff
When people talk about simplifying life, the conversation usually turns to possessions.
Closets.
Garages.
Kitchen cabinets.
And certainly, physical clutter matters. There's something quietly stressful about opening a closet and having three things fall on your head.
But clutter isn't always something you can put in a donation box.
There is calendar clutter—commitments we made months ago that we don't really want anymore.
There is digital clutter—thousands of emails, photographs, apps and notifications demanding little pieces of our attention.
There is financial clutter—subscriptions, automatic renewals and accounts we've forgotten we're paying for.
There is even relationship clutter—the feeling that we must remain available to everyone at all times simply because technology makes it possible.
Every one of these things takes up a tiny amount of mental space.
Eventually, tiny amounts aren't tiny anymore.
You Don't Have to Become a Minimalist
The good news is that simplifying your life doesn't require throwing away half your belongings and moving into a white room containing one chair and a houseplant.
I'm suspicious of any lifestyle philosophy that requires purchasing twelve matching beige storage containers before you can begin.
Real simplicity is much less dramatic.
It's removing friction.
It's deciding that something no longer deserves your attention.
Maybe you unsubscribe from ten emails instead of deleting them every morning.
Maybe you turn off notifications for apps that have absolutely no business interrupting your dinner.
Maybe you choose five dinners your household enjoys and rotate them instead of reinventing dinner every night.
Maybe you cancel the subscription you keep promising yourself you'll use someday.
Maybe you finally donate the clothes that haven't fit since the first season of Stranger Things.
None of these changes will transform your life overnight.
That's precisely the point.
A simpler life isn't usually created through one enormous decision.
It's created through a hundred small ones.
Leave Some Empty Space
I think we've also forgotten the value of emptiness.
Ellie Hart explores why quiet time matters in Why Boredom Is Good for Your Brain and Creativity.
An empty shelf looks unfinished.
An empty afternoon feels unproductive.
An unanswered message feels irresponsible.
So we fill everything.
The shelf gets another decoration.
The afternoon gets another errand.
The quiet moment gets a phone.
But empty space isn't wasted space.
Sometimes it's where life actually happens.
It's sitting on the porch longer than you intended.
It's drinking coffee without simultaneously reading six terrible things happening somewhere in the world.
It's driving without a podcast playing.
It's having an evening when nobody needs to be anywhere.
Those moments rarely look impressive on a calendar.
They can still be some of the best parts of a life.
Make Life Smaller for a While
When everything feels overwhelming, we often respond by trying to organize everything at once.
New planner.
New system.
New app.
New routine.
I've started wondering whether the better answer is sometimes much simpler.
Make life smaller.
Not forever.
Just for today.
Do the next thing.
Answer the important email.
Wash the dishes.
Call the person you love.
Take the walk.
Ignore the notification.
Let tomorrow keep a few of its own problems.
There will always be more information to consume, more things to buy, more places to go and more people asking for our attention.
We don't have to accept every invitation.
Sometimes a good life isn't about fitting more into it.
Sometimes it's about finally deciding what can be left out.
And perhaps that's the kind of simplicity most of us are actually looking for.
Not an empty house.
Not an empty calendar.
Just enough room to breathe.
