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“You can’t add more to your life until you first let go of what weighs you down.” ~Unknown
I used to think being busy meant being successful. My days were a blur of meetings, notifications, and commitments. My calendar looked impressive, but at night I lay awake wondering why I felt so exhausted and strangely unfulfilled.
One rainy Tuesday, stuck in traffic between two appointments I didn’t really want to attend, it hit me: I wasn’t living my life. I was managing it. I’d filled my days with activity, but not necessarily with value. That moment of realization started a slow but profound shift. I began asking myself a simple question: Does this bring me value?
This is how I learned to spot the waste in my life—the habits, obligations, and even thought patterns that consumed my time and energy but gave nothing back. By identifying and letting go of these, I created space for what truly mattered.
When Busyness Became My Default
Looking back, I see that my busyness was rooted in fear. Fear of missing out. Fear of disappointing people. Fear of slowing down long enough to feel my own emotions. So I said yes to every project, every invitation, every “opportunity.”
At first, it felt good. I felt needed and important. But slowly, my days began to feel like an endless loop of obligations. Even small joys—hobbies, social events—turned into chores when I crammed them between other tasks.
I started to dread my own life.
The Question That Changed Everything
That day in traffic, something inside me asked, “If this were the last year of your life, is this how you’d want to spend it?” My honest answer was no.
So I tried a small experiment. For one week, before saying yes to anything, I paused and asked, “Does this bring me value?” Not “Will this impress someone?” Not “Will this make me money?” Just “Does this nourish me in some way?”
It was harder than I expected. Sometimes the answer was unclear. Sometimes it meant saying no to people I cared about. But slowly, a pattern emerged.
Finding What Brings You Value
I realized I didn’t actually know what “value” meant for me. I’d been measuring it by other people’s expectations. So I sat down with a blank page and drew a line down the middle.
On the left, I listed everything from the past week that had made me feel alive, purposeful, or at peace. On the right, I listed everything that had left me depleted, resentful, or numb.
The results surprised me. Deep conversations with loved ones, time in nature, and writing all went on the left. Endless scrolling, reactive email, and overcommitted evenings filled the right column.
It wasn’t a perfect list, but it was a start. For the first time, I could see—in black and white—what actually nourished me and what drained me.
You can try this too. It’s a simple but powerful exercise. And it becomes even more useful when you revisit it regularly, because what brings value can shift as your life changes.
Spotting Life’s Waste
In manufacturing, waste is anything that uses resources without creating value. In life, waste can be less obvious but just as costly.
Some of my “silent wastes” included:
Multitasking. I thought it made me efficient, but it actually left me more tired and less effective.
Automatic yeses. I accepted every invitation out of habit, even when my body begged for rest.
Endless mental loops. Worrying about things I couldn’t control burned energy I could have used to create something meaningful.
You might have different wastes—relationships that drain you, purchases that bring no lasting joy, or habits that numb rather than nurture. The key is to notice how you feel before, during, and after an activity. Do you feel lighter or heavier? Energized or dulled? That’s your signal.
Letting Go Gently
I didn’t overhaul my life overnight. In fact, trying to cut everything at once can be overwhelming. Instead, I began with small, gentle cuts.
I said no to one low-value commitment each week. I set a time boundary on my most draining habit (for me, it was social media). I replaced one draining activity with something from my “value” list.
For example, I replaced my evening doomscrolling with a short walk outside. That tiny swap improved my sleep and mood more than I expected.
These small experiments built confidence. Each gentle cut made room for more of what mattered. Over time, my calendar felt less like a cage and more like a garden I could tend.
One of the first times I had to apply this to a bigger life/social decision was getting invited out for a beer after work with a group of colleagues I hadn’t talked with in a while. I had made a choice to prioritize time with my daughter, and going would have meant sacrificing my “bath and bedtime” with her and putting that work on my partner.
I was also worried that if I didn’t go, I would be letting my friends down, and they would think less of me. I had to ultimately choose whether I wanted time for myself and friends or time with my daughter, and the ultimate winner was being a better father.
Rather than just telling my colleagues “no” and leaving it at that, I told them why I was saying no and that I would be interested the next time. By telling them why, I was able to communicate my priorities and decision-making process.
I decided that if they had issues with that, I wouldn’t waste my energy on it, because true friends would be empathetic or understanding about my priorities.
Creating a “Lean Life” System
Once I started trimming the waste, I wanted to make sure I didn’t slip back into old habits. So I built a simple weekly ritual:
Each Sunday, I reflect on the past week. What felt valuable? What felt like a waste? Then I choose one small adjustment for the coming week.
It’s not a rigid system. It’s more like a conversation with myself—a chance to realign. And because it’s simple, I actually do it.
Over time, this practice has changed me. I notice waste more quickly now. I’m slower to say yes out of obligation. My days feel calmer and more intentional.
The Freedom of Less
The most surprising part of this journey wasn’t what I lost but what I gained. By cutting the waste, I found time I didn’t know I had. My relationships deepened. My work became more focused and rewarding. I felt more present in my own life.
I’m still learning. Some weeks my “value audit” reveals uncomfortable truths. But each small shift brings me closer to a life that feels like mine.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed or disconnected, I invite you to try this experiment:
For one week, notice what energizes you and what drains you.
Make one gentle cut.
Replace it with something you love.
It’s a humble practice, but it’s powerful. This is how a lean life begins—not with a grand overhaul, but with a single conscious choice.
Closing Thoughts
You can’t live a meaningful life on autopilot. It takes courage to pause, to question, and to let go. But the reward is spaciousness—room to breathe, to grow, to savor.
When you identify and release the waste, you don’t just free up time. You free yourself.
About Mike Murray
Mike Murray is the author of Lean Life: How to Maximize Time, Minimize Waste, and Enjoy More. He has twelve years of experience in manufacturing and working to find value and reduce waste in businesses. He writes about simple ways to create space for what matters most. Learn more at mybook.to/leanlifebook.
