I was feeling burned out and overwhelmed and trapped. I couldn't figure out how to get out of it. My usual little rituals weren't working. The things that normally helped me to relax weren't working. 

I used to shop like I was filling gaps. Like I was behind, and the next sweater or pair of boots might finally make everything click.

But now, I’ve slowed it down.

These days, I think of everything I buy as falling into one of two categories:

✦ Flirt: A lower-cost, low-stakes version of something I think I might love.
✦ Commit: The real thing. An investment piece I know will live in my closet for years — because I’ve already tested it with my life.

Before I had even finished unpacking this apartment. Before the dishes had found their shelves or the rugs were rolled out, I set up a corner in the kitchen that I didn’t even realize I needed.

It wasn’t practical. It wasn’t urgent. But it was necessary.

I’ve been slowly going through the corners of my home. Closets, shelves, drawers. Not in a frantic purge, but with the quiet question: Does this belong to the life I’m building now?

It didn’t happen all at once.

There wasn’t some dramatic explosion, no single moment where I stood up and said I’m done with this life. It was slower than that. Quieter.