I discovered lagom during a particularly rough patch about a year ago, just after I’d retired from teaching.
You’d think retirement would be this blissful release from pressure, right? Instead, I found myself scrolling through social media at midnight, watching former colleagues travel to exotic places, start businesses, or become yoga instructors. Everyone seemed to be doing retirement “better” than me.
That’s when my Swedish neighbor, Astrid, invited me over for coffee. Her home was simple but somehow perfect — not sparse, not cluttered, just… right. When I complimented her space, she smiled and said one word: “Lagom.” Then she explained this Swedish philosophy that would completely shift how I saw my own restless striving.
The relentless pursuit of more had become my normal
Looking back, I realize I’d been caught in the “more” trap for decades. More professional development courses. More extracurriculars for my students. More committees to join. Even in retirement, I immediately started thinking about more — more hobbies, more travel, more ways to stay “productive.”
Sound familiar? We live in a world that constantly whispers (okay, sometimes shouts) that what we have isn’t enough. Your house could be bigger. Your vacation could be longer. Your retirement savings could be fatter. Your grandkids could visit more often.
I remember sitting with Astrid that day, feeling this strange relief when she described lagom. As Jonny Thomson puts it, “Lagom is a Swedish concept meaning ‘just the right amount’. It means knowing when enough is enough, and trying to find balance and moderation rather than constantly grasping for more.”
But here’s what hit me hardest — I couldn’t even identify what “enough” looked like for me anymore. When you’ve spent thirty-four years climbing ladders, how do you suddenly learn to appreciate the view from where you stand?
Why finding your “enough” feels impossible
The tricky thing about lagom is that it sounds so simple. Just find the right amount. Not too much, not too little. Goldilocks would get it immediately. But in practice? It’s surprisingly hard.
First, there’s the comparison trap. When your friend from book club mentions her month-long cruise to Alaska, suddenly your weekend at the lake feels inadequate. When your former colleague posts about her consulting business, your quiet mornings with coffee and crosswords feel lazy.
Then there’s the fear factor. What if “enough” means settling? What if it means giving up? My mother used to say that everyone has a story, and your job is to help them tell it. But what if my story becomes boring? What if choosing lagom means my final chapters lack excitement?
I struggled with this for months. I’d try to embrace simplicity, then panic and sign up for three new classes. I’d declutter my closet, then go shopping to fill it back up. The pressure to want more had become so ingrained that choosing “enough” felt like failure.
Small shifts that helped me embrace lagom
The breakthrough came when I stopped treating lagom as a destination and started seeing it as a practice. Instead of trying to overhaul my entire mindset overnight, I began with tiny experiments.
I started with my morning routine. Rather than rushing through breakfast while checking emails and planning my day, I gave myself permission to just eat. Toast, coffee, silence. No multitasking. No optimization. Just breakfast.
Next came my social commitments. I used to say yes to everything — every lunch invitation, every volunteer opportunity, every family gathering — even when I felt stretched thin. Now I ask myself: Will this add joy or just activity? There’s a difference, and learning to spot it has been game-changing.
Shopping became another practice ground. Before buying something, I’d pause and ask: Am I filling a genuine need or just filling time? Often, browsing online had become my default boredom response. Now I keep a library book nearby instead.
The hardest shift? Accepting that some days, doing “nothing productive” is exactly right. Reading a novel in the afternoon isn’t lazy. Taking a walk without tracking steps isn’t wasteful. Sometimes lagom means giving yourself permission to simply be.
The unexpected freedom in “just enough”
Here’s what surprised me most about embracing lagom — it didn’t make my life smaller. It made it richer.
When you stop chasing more, you actually notice what you have. That morning coffee tastes better when you’re not mentally composing your to-do list. Conversations deepen when you’re not thinking about the next thing. Even my relationship with money shifted. Instead of constantly calculating what else I could afford, I started appreciating what I’d already built.
I think about my teaching days sometimes, how I’d pile on extra projects thinking it made me a better educator. But my best moments with students usually happened in the quiet spaces — the five minutes after class, the unexpected hallway conversation. Those couldn’t be optimized or maximized. They just were.
Lagom taught me something wisdom couldn’t — that satisfaction doesn’t come from having everything but from wanting what you have. It sounds like a greeting card, I know. But living it? That’s revolutionary in a world that profits from our perpetual dissatisfaction.
What lagom doesn’t mean
Let me be clear about something — lagom isn’t about giving up ambition or settling for mediocrity. It’s not about becoming passive or losing your spark.
I still have goals. I still want to grow. I’m learning Spanish, badly but enthusiastically. I’m writing more than ever (as you can probably tell). I’m deepening friendships and trying new recipes and planning a trip to see the Northern Lights.
The difference is that these pursuits come from genuine interest, not from pressure to prove something. They’re chosen, not compelled. There’s no imaginary audience judging whether my retirement is impressive enough.
Lagom also doesn’t mean never splurging or never pushing yourself. Sometimes the “right amount” is a lot — like the time and money I invested in visiting my mother during her final illness. Sometimes it’s very little — like the minimalist birthday celebration I chose this year, just family and cake.
The key is intentionality. Asking yourself: Is this choice coming from internal wisdom or external pressure? Am I adding this because it genuinely enriches my life or because I think I should?
Finding your own version of enough
After a year of practicing lagom, I’ve learned that “enough” looks different for everyone. My friend Carol needs more social stimulation than I do — her lagom includes weekly dinners out and constant text threads. My brother needs more solitude — his includes long solo hikes and minimal commitments.
The point isn’t to copy someone else’s balance but to find your own. And that requires something many of us avoid: honest self-reflection.
Start by noticing where you feel the most pressure to want more. Is it your home? Your social life? Your appearance? Your accomplishments? Then ask yourself whose voice is driving that pressure. Is it truly yours, or is it an echo of societal expectations, family patterns, or fear of judgment?
Finding your enough also means accepting that it will shift. What felt like the right amount at 40 might feel excessive at 67. What satisfied you before retirement might bore you after. Lagom isn’t a fixed state — it’s an ongoing calibration.
The courage required for contentment
You know what nobody tells you about choosing enough? It takes courage. Real courage.
It’s easier to stay on the hamster wheel of more. There’s comfort in constant striving — it gives you purpose, identity, something to talk about at parties. Choosing lagom means stepping off that wheel and facing the question: Who am I when I’m not chasing something?
For me, the answer has been both humbling and liberating. I’m someone who enjoys simple mornings. Who finds joy in small rituals. Who values depth over breadth. Who can sit with a friend in comfortable silence. These weren’t achievements I could list on a resume, but they’ve brought more satisfaction than any accolade.
A gentle challenge
If you’re exhausted by the pressure to always want more, consider this your invitation to explore lagom. Not as another self-improvement project (the irony wouldn’t be lost on Astrid), but as a gentle experiment in satisfaction.
Start small. Pick one area where the pursuit of more feels particularly draining. Maybe it’s social media. Maybe it’s home improvement. Maybe it’s professional development. Try aiming for “just right” instead of “as much as possible.”
Notice how it feels. Notice the resistance. Notice the relief.
What would change if you decided that what you have — who you are — is already enough?