Before I got serious about living with less, I thought my stuff meant something. I thought it made me happy and thought more stuff could make me happier. In the end, it was mostly clutter, but I collected my things, one at a time with a seemingly good reason for each acquisition. Diamonds are not this girl’s best friend, but they used to be. It wasn’t just jewelry, but all the things I bought to lift me up, prove my worth, and demonstrate my love.

I bought stuff to fix heartaches, avoid stressful situations, to celebrate a good day, and to cover the pain of a bad one. I bought gifts to show other people how much I loved them, and how well I knew them. I made purchases to prove I could fit in and hang with the cool kids too. I bought a ring from one of my clients once. It was more than I had ever spent on a piece of jewelry. One night, after getting home late, I discovered my new puppy had chewed it up. I was frustrated and couldn’t understand how his big teeth managed to chomp this ring into a piece of crushed gold that would never fit around my finger again, but I had to laugh. It was another little sign that I was on the wrong path.

It was only when I stepped back from overspending and collecting stuff that I recognized how misguided my purchases were, and how I was attached to stuff for all the wrong reasons. The less I owned, and the less time I spent looking for more stuff, the happier I became. When I started to let go of all the things I thought meant so much, I realized they only meant something to the person I wanted people to believe I was, the person I thought I was supposed to be. After creating a little time and space and remembering who I was, I thought back to all of the little signs telling me I didn’t need more stuff for more happiness, joy, and love. I didn’t want more stuff. I didn’t need to prove myself. Nothing on the outside could make me happier. That had to come from the inside.

As I became more and more me, and started experiencing the world from this new stuff-less place, I realized that diamonds are not this girl’s best friend. My best friend is a magical, rooftop sunrise. My best friend is the ocean. My best friend is a hike in the mountains. My best friend is a peaceful afternoon. My best friend is a really good book. My best friend is laughter. My best friend is seeing the world. My best friend is time with people I love.

So yes, I want more, but not more stuff. I want more early mornings, more hiking and connecting with nature, more meaningful conversations and hand holding. More seeing the world. More creativity. More crazy ideas. More love. Always more love.

Diamonds have nothing on my best friends.