Can Less Really Be More? Why Small Pleasures Matter Most

In recent years there has been a growing undercurrent of dissatisfaction with work-life balance, and a corresponding rise in burnout and anxiety. 

The classic image of a burnout might be an ashen faced city executive who smokes too much and doesn’t get enough sleep, but in fact it can just as often arrive via a long fuse of unarticulated emotions.  

This is why ideas such as “frugal hedonism” are striking a chord with so many people at the moment. This is not a clinical term: the concept was introduced by Annie Raser-Rowland and Adam Grubb in their 2017 book “The Art of Frugal Hedonism.” 

Of course, countercultural ideas and ways of living are nothing new: they have been around well before the 20th century. However, the pressure to conform to consumer culture feels ever more intense; blown up by social media and the spiralling cost of living. 

Writers such as Raser-Rowland argue that some of the richest forms of enjoyment are inexpensive, embodied, and relational, challenging the common assumption that pleasure must be purchased. 

From a mental health perspective, this idea aligns closely with what we know about resilience, emotional regulation, and long-term satisfaction.

Why “more” doesn’t work the way we expect

Modern culture quietly teaches us that pleasure is something we acquire. A better holiday, a nicer home, a more convenient lifestyle, a small reward after a hard week. While these things can be enjoyable, they often fail to deliver lasting satisfaction.

Psychologically, this is partly due to hedonic adaptation: our tendency to return to a baseline level of emotional experience after positive changes. What once felt special quickly becomes normal. The nervous system recalibrates, and the bar for pleasure moves again.

Many people then conclude that the problem is insufficient reward, rather than questioning the structure of pleasure itself. This can create a cycle of working harder, spending more, and feeling subtly emptier.

Resetting our mental reward systems 

At its core, frugal hedonism isn’t about deprivation or austerity. It’s about where pleasure comes from.

Rather than outsourcing enjoyment to money or novelty, it emphasises:

• Sensory presence (taste, movement, rest)

• Time affluence rather than financial affluence

• Connection with people, nature, and the body

• Pleasure that unfolds slowly, not instantly

From a therapeutic standpoint, this represents a shift from dopamine-driven reward (anticipation, acquisition, stimulation) to parasympathetic nourishment (settling, enjoyment, regulation).

In other words, it supports a nervous system that can receive rather than chase.

The mental health benefits of inexpensive pleasure

When pleasure is simple and repeatable, it becomes psychologically stabilising rather than fragile.

Examples might include:

• Walking the same route regularly and noticing seasonal change

• Cooking without multitasking

• Sitting in sunlight without distraction

• Sharing unstructured time with someone you trust

• Allowing boredom to soften into curiosity

These experiences strengthen emotional regulation because they are available. They don’t require planning, performance, or financial justification. This matters more than it may seem.

People struggling with anxiety, burnout, or emotional numbness often live in a state of low-level vigilance. Expensive pleasures can paradoxically add pressure: “Was it worth it? Did I enjoy it enough?”, whereas modest pleasures ask very little of the nervous system.

Presence as an antidote to quiet dissatisfaction

Many high-functioning adults aren’t unhappy in an obvious way. Instead, they feel:

• Chronically “on”

• Disconnected from pleasure

• Guilty for wanting more when life is objectively fine

• Afraid that slowing down means falling behind

Frugal hedonism challenges the idea that pleasure must be earned or justified. Psychologically, this can loosen deeply ingrained beliefs around worth, productivity, and rest.

When people begin to allow themselves pleasure that is unproductive, unshareable, and unnecessary, something shifts. Enjoyment stops being a reward and starts becoming a form of emotional nourishment.

This is not to claim a solution to structural stress, inequality, or burnout caused by impossible workloads. Instead, it’s a way of noticing how much pleasure has been outsourced, and gently reclaiming some of it.

If pleasure didn’t need to be impressive, productive, or expensive, what might you notice more often? And what would it mean to trust that a good life isn’t built from peak experiences, but from repeated moments of quiet satisfaction?

Sometimes mental health improves not by adding more, but by learning how to stay with what’s already here. It may be worth exploring these profound questions in more depth with a Harley Street therapist to help you achieve your life’s true potential.