The Psychology Of Enough — Why Chasing More Doesn't Make Us Happier
When more options leave us less satisfied.
Nina zeynep güler zz | Canva On a cruise from Istanbul to Rome, I was taking photos with several friends and noticed that the iPhone 16 Pro was miles ahead of my own. I’ll admit I considered buying one —but how would it realistically make my life any better? I’m not a photographer; I rarely take photos at all.
And I use Android, so it would be a big learning curve for this old lady. Luckily, I was able to resist the pull of the shiny, new phone, and two years later, I’m still perfectly happy with my cheap-o phone.
In another not-so-successful example, last year I decided to buy an iPad. I got the idea that I could learn to create digital art … if only I had an iPad.
They’re expensive, but I made the sacrifice and pulled the trigger. My lavender-toned iPad arrived, along with a personalized Apple Pencil. It’s beautiful. And it has since sat untouched in a drawer. I’ve only powered it up a couple of times.
How often have you splurged on the new phone, the new sofa, or a special pair of shoes — then two weeks later, it feels ordinary, or you’re not even using it?
That's because chasing and wanting more doesn't make us happier.
fizkes / Shutterstock
We’ll unpack why this happens (hedonic adaptation + choice overload) and how minimalist practices can retrain the brain’s reward system toward a more lasting contentment.
The 'more' instinct
From an evolutionary standpoint, our brains are wired to seek novelty and accumulate resources. In caveman days, this drive was adaptive — those who were able to collect more food, tools, or social advantages were more likely to survive and pass on their genes.
Neurobiologically, this instinct is tied to the dopamine system, which responds most strongly not to rewards themselves but to changes and unexpected gains — a phenomenon known as reward prediction error. This mechanism kept our ancestors motivated to keep searching for “just a little more,” ensuring survival in unpredictable conditions.
The world we live in today, however, presents a mismatch. Instead of limited opportunities to acquire, we are surrounded by infinite shelves — both literal and digital — filled with more products, upgrades, and options than we could ever need.
What once helped us survive now fuels cycles of overconsumption and dissatisfaction. The brain’s dopamine-driven novelty seeking was designed for an environment of scarcity, not abundance.
We’re also facing the social-media phenomenon where we see what everyone else is doing (and buying). As a result, we often feel compelled to chase more even when our basic needs are met, leaving us stuck on a treadmill where “enough” remains just out of reach.
Hedonic adaptation: the treadmill we don’t feel moving
One of the reasons “more” never feels like enough is a psychological phenomenon known as hedonic adaptation. Put simply, humans have a tendency to quickly return to a relatively stable level of happiness after both positive and negative life changes.
Research shows that even major events — such as winning the lottery or experiencing disability — often have only a temporary effect on well-being before individuals return to their baseline emotional state. This adaptation keeps us resilient in the face of hardship, but it also means the thrill of new possessions fades faster than we expect.
The pattern is remarkably consistent: a burst of anticipation, a short-lived high, and then a gradual normalization. Studies suggest that our attention shifts away from the novelty of new purchases and back toward unmet desires, restarting the cycle.
In today’s consumer culture, where upgrades and new options are endless, hedonic adaptation fuels perpetual dissatisfaction. We chase the next item, experience, or upgrade, but the psychological “return on investment” diminishes with each step — keeping us on what researchers call the hedonic treadmill. Here are signs you might be stuck on the hedonic treadmill:
- The “If Only” Trap: You often think, If I just had X, then I’d be happy.
- Shortened Thrill Window: New purchases bring excitement, but the buzz fades faster each time.
- Upgrade Habits: You replace items not because they’re broken, but because a slightly “better” version exists.
- Perpetual Shopping Lists: There’s always another item on the horizon that feels essential to your contentment.
- Emotional Letdown: Instead of lasting satisfaction, new acquisitions often leave you wanting the next thing.
The paradox of choice: when more options leave us less satisfied
We think we want options, and it seems like more stuff should make us happier. Yet psychological research consistently shows the opposite: too many options can overwhelm us, increase decision fatigue, and reduce satisfaction with the choices we make.
This phenomenon is known as the paradox of choice. A classic study by Iyengar and Lepper found that shoppers presented with 24 varieties of jam were far less likely to make a purchase compared to those who only had 6 options. Too much variety led to paralysis rather than empowerment.
The problem isn’t just making the choice — it’s how we feel afterward. With so many alternatives, we become hyper-aware of opportunity costs, wondering if a different option might have been better.
Schwartz and colleagues found that “maximizers,” or those who strive to make the absolute best decision, tend to experience more regret, less happiness, and higher levels of stress compared to “satisficers,” who settle for options that are “good enough.” In our everyday lives — whether choosing what to wear, what to stream, or what to buy — more choice often leaves us second-guessing ourselves instead of feeling content.
Minimalism as a psychological intervention (not an aesthetic)
Minimalism is often portrayed as a design trend — white walls, clean lines, and empty countertops. But at its core, minimalism functions less as an aesthetic and more as a psychological intervention.
By intentionally simplifying and reducing excess, we create constraints that protect our limited cognitive and emotional resources. Research on self-regulation shows that constraints can actually enhance freedom: fewer options conserve willpower, reduce decision fatigue, and increase follow-through on meaningful goals. In this way, minimalism isn’t about deprivation — it’s about strategic simplification.
Minimalist practices also help recalibrate the brain’s reward system. When we stop chasing novelty and reduce the flood of options, we become more attentive to what we already have.
This shift aligns with findings that gratitude and mindful consumption increase well-being more than material acquisition. In other words, by intentionally choosing “less,” we reduce the noise of constant craving and create space for deeper enjoyment, clearer priorities, and stronger alignment between our possessions and our values.
Resetting the reward system
If hedonic adaptation and choice overload keep us locked in dissatisfaction, minimalism offers a way to retrain the brain’s reward system. The key is not to eliminate rewards but to shift how we experience them. Instead of relying on novelty-driven dopamine spikes, we can create habits that build deeper and more sustainable satisfaction.
Research shows that intentional gratitude practices, even just a few minutes per day, increase overall well-being and amplify the positive impact of existing possessions and relationships. By savoring what we already have, we effectively slow down the adaptation process.
Another strategy is to add friction to our buying. Studies on self-control suggest that even small obstacles — like implementing a waiting period before purchases — reduce impulsivity and increase alignment with our long-term goals.
Similarly, setting hard limits, such as a capsule wardrobe or a one-bookshelf policy, reduces decision fatigue while protecting against creeping clutter. Research also indicates that directing resources toward experiences — travel, learning, and social activities — creates more enduring happiness than material goods. These practices not only slow the hedonic treadmill but also help reorient attention toward what truly matters.
Obstacles & how to work through them
Even with clear benefits, embracing minimalism isn’t always easy. One common barrier is fear of missing out (FOMO) — the worry that letting go or resisting purchases means losing opportunities.
Yet research suggests that reframing this as the joy of missing out (JOMO) can reduce anxiety and increase well-being by helping us focus on the freedom gained, rather than the loss. When we recognize that saying “no” to excess is actually saying “yes” to time, energy, and clarity, the shift feels less like deprivation and more like empowerment.
Another challenge is guilt about letting go of possessions. Many of us attach identity and sentiment to our belongings, making decluttering feel like betrayal.
However, psychologists note that possessions are often extensions of self-concept, and releasing them can actually create space for identity growth. A helpful reframe is to see decluttering as stewardship: passing items along to others who can use them better honors their value rather than diminishes it.
Minimalism can also stir relational tension. Partners or family members may resist changes to shared spaces or fear imposed restrictions. In these cases, it helps to start small and personal — paring down in private domains like a closet or desk — while modeling the benefits. Over time, visible calm and reduced stress can encourage others to engage voluntarily.
Finding 'enough'
The science is clear: chasing more doesn’t make us happier. Hedonic adaptation ensures that the thrill of new acquisitions fades quickly, while the paradox of choice leaves us drained and uncertain.
Minimalism offers a practical, psychologically grounded alternative — not an aesthetic of empty rooms, but a way of living that protects attention, reduces stress, and strengthens alignment with our values. By choosing less, we gain space for deeper gratitude, clearer identity, and more meaningful use of our time and energy.
Ultimately, “enough” is not a number — it’s a mindset. It’s learning to notice when the pursuit of more is pulling us away from the life we actually want to live. Minimalism gives us the tools to step off the treadmill and reconnect with contentment that lasts.
Where in your life do you confuse more with better? Choose one area — your closet, your schedule, or your digital life — and experiment with what “enough” could look like.
Rebecca Cooper-Bridger is a psychologist and writer who explores the intersection of mental health, resilience, and personal growth. In addition to academic research studies in professional journals, she has published articles on Medium and books on Amazon, ranging from addiction recovery tools to creative guides for mindful living.
