How I Townsized My Life – A Personal Journey to Living Small and Fully

Introduction

Three years ago, I was drowning in my own life. Not financially—I was doing well enough in my marketing career. Not socially—I had friends and family who cared about me. I was drowning in stuff, in space, in the endless maintenance of a life that had somehow grown too big for me to manage.

My 2,800-square-foot house in the suburbs was beautiful, at least according to everyone who visited. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a two-car garage, and a backyard that required two hours of work every weekend just to look presentable. I had filled it with furniture I'd bought because I had the space, decorations that gathered dust, and appliances I used maybe twice a year.

But here's what really got to me: I realized I was working longer hours to pay for a house I barely had time to enjoy, filled with things I didn't really need, in a neighborhood where I barely knew my neighbors. The American Dream had become a beautifully appointed prison, and I was both the warden and the inmate.

That's when I discovered townsizing—not as a concept I'd heard about, but as a solution I desperately needed. This is the story of how I transformed my life by choosing to live smaller, and why it's been the best decision I've ever made.

The Shift Begins

The catalyst came during a particularly stressful week in November 2021. I had spent my entire Saturday cleaning and organizing, only to realize by Sunday evening that I couldn't actually tell I'd done anything. The house looked exactly the same because there was just so much space to fill and so many things to maintain.

I sat in my formal living room—a space I'd furnished but never actually used—and had what I can only describe as a clarity moment. I wasn't living in this house; I was being lived by it. Every surface demanded attention, every room required maintenance, and every closet held things I'd forgotten I owned.

That night, I did something that surprised even me: I googled "how to live in a smaller space." Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. The research led me down a rabbit hole of tiny homes, minimalist blogs, and intentional living stories. But what really caught my attention was the idea of townsizing—making a deliberate choice to live smaller as a path to living better.

The more I read, the more excited I became. This wasn't about deprivation; it was about optimization. It wasn't about having less; it was about having enough.

I started small. I closed off two bedrooms and the formal dining room and challenged myself to live in just the remaining spaces for a month. Almost immediately, I noticed changes. I spent less time cleaning and more time reading. I used my kitchen table for actual meals instead of just piling mail on it. I felt calmer, more focused, and surprisingly, less lonely.

By December, I had made the decision: I was going to townsize my life.

Challenges Along the Way

Let me be honest—the process wasn't all smooth sailing and Instagram-worthy moments. The first major challenge was emotional: letting go of things I'd convinced myself were important.

I had inherited my grandmother's china set, complete with serving pieces for twelve people. I hadn't used it in three years, but getting rid of it felt like betraying her memory. I had books I'd collected but never read, thinking that someday I'd have time to read them all. I had exercise equipment that had become expensive coat hangers, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that selling it meant giving up on my fitness goals.

The process of decluttering took four months, and there were moments when I questioned everything. Was I being irresponsible? Was I throwing away things I'd regret losing? The hardest part was dealing with the reactions from family and friends. My mother was convinced I was having some kind of midlife crisis. My sister couldn't understand why I'd want to "downgrade" when I was finally financially successful.

"You worked so hard to afford this house," she said during one particularly difficult conversation. "Why would you throw that away?"

But I realized I wasn't throwing anything away—I was reclaiming something I'd lost. The house hadn't been serving me; I'd been serving it.

The practical challenges were significant too. Finding the right smaller space took months. I wanted something that felt intentional, not just smaller. I needed good natural light, a functional kitchen, and access to the community amenities I'd be giving up—like a big backyard and multiple bathrooms.

I also had to learn new skills. In a smaller space, everything needs to be more intentional. I had to become better at organization, more creative with storage, and more thoughtful about what I brought into my space. There was definitely a learning curve.

Unexpected Joys

What surprised me most about my townsizing journey were the benefits I hadn't anticipated. I expected to save money and have less to clean—those were the obvious advantages. But the unexpected joys were what made the whole transition feel like a gift I'd given myself.

First, I became more creative. With limited space, I had to think differently about everything—how to set up a home office in my living room, how to entertain friends in a smaller space, how to pursue my hobbies without dedicated rooms for them. This constraint sparked creativity I didn't know I had.

I also discovered the joy of truly using everything I owned. In my big house, I had three sets of sheets for each bed, multiple sets of dishes, and closets full of clothes I rarely wore. In my smaller space, everything gets used regularly. I appreciate my possessions more because they all serve a purpose.

The financial benefits were bigger than I'd expected too. Beyond the obvious savings on mortgage, insurance, and utilities, I found myself spending less on everything. When you have limited space, you naturally become more selective about purchases. I think more carefully about what I bring into my home, which has improved my relationship with money and consumption.

But the biggest surprise was how much more connected I became to my community. In my suburban house, I drove everywhere and rarely interacted with neighbors. My smaller apartment is in a walkable neighborhood where I see the same people regularly—at the coffee shop, the library, the local market. I've built relationships I never would have had in my isolated suburban life.

I also sleep better. This might sound strange, but I think there's something psychologically comforting about being in a space that's perfectly sized for your needs. I no longer lie awake thinking about all the things I should be doing to maintain my living space.

My Current Life

My current home is a 900-square-foot, two-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood I absolutely love. It has everything I need: a comfortable living area that doubles as my office, a kitchen that's small but perfectly functional, one bedroom for sleeping, and a second bedroom that serves as a guest room and creative space.

A typical day starts with coffee on my small balcony, where I can watch the neighborhood come alive. I work from my dining table, which transforms into a desk during the day. I cook dinner in my galley kitchen, which forces me to be more efficient and creative with meal planning. Evenings are spent reading in my living room or walking to meet friends at nearby restaurants.

The space feels abundant, not constrained. Everything has its place, and everything gets used. I have exactly what I need and nothing more. When friends visit, we might go to the park instead of sitting in separate rooms. When I want to work out, I go to the community gym or take a walk instead of using equipment I'd rarely touched.

My expenses dropped by about 40%, which gave me the freedom to work fewer hours and travel more. Last year, I took three trips I wouldn't have been able to afford when I was maintaining my large house. I also started a small side business that I'm passionate about—something I never had the mental energy or financial flexibility to pursue before.

The best part? I come home at the end of the day and feel peaceful instead of overwhelmed. My space is a sanctuary, not a burden.

Tips for Those Considering Townsizing

If my story resonates with you and you're considering your own townsizing journey, here are five practical tips based on my experience:

Start with a space experiment: Before making any major changes, try living in a smaller portion of your current home for a few weeks. Close off rooms you don't use regularly and see how it feels. This will give you a realistic sense of what smaller-space living is like without the commitment.

Address the emotional attachment first: The hardest part of townsizing isn't the logistics—it's letting go of things that represent dreams, memories, or versions of yourself you thought you'd become. Take time to process these feelings before you start decluttering. Consider taking photos of sentimental items you can't keep, or finding new homes for them with people who will appreciate them.

Focus on what you'll gain, not what you'll lose: Instead of thinking about giving up space or possessions, focus on what you'll gain—more time, more money, more freedom, less stress. Make a list of what you want your smaller life to enable, and refer back to it when the process feels difficult.

Choose your new space thoughtfully: Don't just pick the first smaller place you see. Think about what you really need and want in a living space. Do you need good natural light? A functional kitchen? Access to outdoor space? Proximity to community amenities? Be intentional about finding a space that will support your new lifestyle.

Embrace the learning curve: Living in a smaller space requires some new skills and habits. Be patient with yourself as you figure out organization systems, storage solutions, and new routines. It takes time to optimize a smaller space, but the process can be enjoyable if you approach it with curiosity rather than frustration.

Conclusion

Three years into my townsizing journey, I can honestly say I've never been happier with my living situation. I wake up each morning in a space that feels exactly right for my life—not too big, not too small, but perfectly sized for who I am and how I want to live.

The transformation hasn't just been about my living space; it's been about discovering what I truly need to feel content and fulfilled. I've learned that I need less stuff but more experiences, less space but more community, less maintenance but more freedom.

To anyone considering a similar journey, I want you to know that you don't have to wait for circumstances to force your hand. You don't have to downsize—you can townsize. You can make a proactive choice to live smaller and more intentionally, not because you have to, but because you want to.

The process takes courage, especially in a culture that often equates success with accumulation. But I promise you this: there's profound freedom in discovering that enough is enough, and that sometimes the best way to expand your life is to shrink your living space.

You don't need to shrink your dreams to live small. In fact, I've found that living smaller has given me more room than ever to pursue the dreams that truly matter to me. And that's made all the difference.