Kristen Huber

My Decluttering Journey: Transforming Chaos into Calm

Introduction

Hi, I’m Kristen, and I have to be honest with you: I’ve struggled with anxiety for most of my life. But it wasn’t until the pandemic that I truly understood how my inner chaos was reflected in my outer world.

Here’s the situation: I was home alone, stuck in the same place every day. No distractions. No way out. Just me and my messy space. The little souvenirs I’d collected to remember moments, the piles I had been ignoring, the disorder I always called “organized chaos”—it all confronted me. That’s when it struck me hard: my anxiety wasn’t just in my mind. It was physically surrounding me.

My journey to decluttering began with a simple realization: there’s a direct link between anxiety and clutter. Your mental well-being and living space are closely connected, constantly affecting each other in ways we may not always see.

I started studying this relationship seriously, exploring how our environments reflect our mental states. What I found out changed everything. Understanding this connection between my anxious thoughts and my messy surroundings became the crucial first step toward finding the peace I desperately needed.

And you know what? If you’re reading this, you might be at that same point I once was.

The Impact of Clutter on Mental Health

Looking back at my own experience, I can now see how my cluttered space was a physical representation of what was happening inside my mind. Every pile of papers, every drawer stuffed with random items, every surface covered with “things I’ll deal with later”—they weren’t just messy. They were anxiety made visible.

You know that feeling when you walk into a room and immediately feel your shoulders tense up? That’s not just in your head. Clutter and mental health are deeply connected in ways that science is only beginning to fully understand. When I lived in my chronically cluttered space, I didn’t realize I was surrounding myself with constant visual reminders of unfinished tasks. Each item whispered, “You haven’t dealt with me yet.” Multiply that by hundreds of objects, and you’ve got a chorus of stress singing at you 24/7.

The thing about anxiety manifestation is that it doesn’t always look like panic attacks or racing thoughts. Sometimes it looks like a bedroom floor you can’t see anymore. Sometimes it’s that chair in the corner that’s become a permanent clothes hanger. I used to joke that I “loved to keep little things” and that I “really hated to clean my room,” but the truth was deeper than that. My chaotic living space was how my anxiety showed up in the physical world.

Here’s what I noticed happening to me:

• Mental fog became my default state – I couldn’t think clearly when surrounded by visual chaos
• Decision fatigue hit before noon – Every surface cluttered with items meant constant micro-decisions about what to move, what to ignore, what to finally deal with
• Emotional exhaustion crept in – The guilt of not cleaning mixed with the overwhelm of where to start created this paralyzing cocktail
• Focus became nearly impossible – How could I concentrate on anything when my environment was screaming for attention?

The relationship between a chaotic environment and feelings of stress isn’t just about aesthetics. It’s about cognitive load. Your brain is constantly processing everything in your visual field, even when you’re not consciously aware of it. When that field is filled with disorder, your brain never gets to rest. It’s like trying to have a peaceful conversation in a room where ten different songs are playing at once.

I remember sitting on my bed, surrounded by piles of stuff, feeling this crushing weight on my chest. The irony wasn’t lost on me—I was keeping all these “memories” and “meaningful things,” but they were actually stealing my peace. The very items I thought I was preserving were preventing me from being present.

What really shifted for me was understanding that reducing clutter wasn’t about becoming a minimalist or having an Instagram-perfect home. It was about creating space—literal and mental—to breathe. When I started clearing even small areas, I noticed something remarkable: my mind felt clearer too. It was like someone had turned down the volume on the constant background noise of anxiety.

The connection between your physical space and your emotional stability is real and powerful. Your home should be your sanctuary, not another source of stress. When you’re constantly navigating around piles, searching for lost items, or feeling embarrassed about your space, you’re carrying an invisible burden that affects everything from your sleep quality to your ability to relax.

How the Pandemic Shaped My Decluttering Journey

When the world came to a halt, I suddenly found myself stuck at home, staring at the same four walls day after day. Pandemic isolation was something none of us anticipated, but it turned out to be the unexpected spark that ignited my transformation.

The Surreal Experience of Being Home Alone

During those early days of lockdown, being home alone felt surreal. There were no hurried mornings rushing out to meet friends, no spontaneous trips to coffee shops or weekend getaways. It was just me, my thoughts, and the undeniable reality of my living space.

• When you can’t leave your house, you can’t ignore what’s right in front of you anymore.
• The clutter that had been accumulating over time became impossible to overlook.

I remember sitting on my couch one afternoon, looking around at the piles of “stuff” I’d been stepping over for months—maybe even years. The stack of books I meant to read. The clothes draped over chairs. The kitchen counter that had become a dumping ground for mail, keys, and random objects that never found their proper home.

Confronting My Environment

Without the usual distractions of social obligations and outside activities, these visual reminders of chaos became impossible to tune out. That’s when it hit me: my anxiety wasn’t just about the pandemic; it was being amplified by my environment.

The isolation forced me to ask uncomfortable questions:

• Why do I live like this?
• What am I holding onto?
• What would it feel like to wake up in a space that actually supports my well-being instead of draining it?

Those long, quiet days at home became a mirror reflecting back patterns I’d avoided confronting. The clutter wasn’t just physical—it represented unfinished decisions, postponed actions, and a lifestyle that had spiraled out of my control.

Learning from Others

Mental health awareness surged during the pandemic, and I was paying attention. Everyone was talking about self-care, coping mechanisms, and creating supportive environments. I started researching the connection between physical space and emotional well-being.

The more I learned, the more I realized I had the power to change my situation.

Here’s what I discovered during those months of solitude:

• My home was either working for me or against me—there was no neutral ground
• The stress I felt wasn’t just about being stuck inside; it was about being stuck inside a space that reflected my internal chaos
• I had time—actual, uninterrupted time—to make changes I’d been putting off for years
• Creating a calmer environment wasn’t selfish; it was essential for my mental survival

Finding Permission in Uncertainty

The pandemic gave me something I’d never had before: permission to pause. Permission to reassess. Permission to prioritize my immediate surroundings without feeling guilty about not being “productive” in traditional ways.

I started small. One drawer. One shelf. One corner of a room. Each small victory built momentum. As I cleared physical space, I felt mental space opening up too.

The act of deciding what stayed and what went became a practice in reclaiming control during a time when so much felt out of control.

Reflecting on Growth

Looking back now, I can see how that period of forced solitude laid the groundwork for everything that followed. The pandemic didn’t just give me time to declutter—it gave me clarity to understand why I needed to.

It stripped away excuses and distractions, leaving me face-to-face with the truth about how I’d been living.

That uncomfortable confrontation became the greatest gift.

Feng Shui: A Holistic Approach to Decluttering and Mental Wellness

During my decluttering journey, I stumbled upon something that changed everything: feng shui. I know what you might be thinking—isn’t that just about moving furniture around and placing crystals in corners? I thought the same thing at first. But as I dug deeper, I discovered that feng shui principles offered something I desperately needed: a framework for understanding why my space felt so heavy and what I could do about it.

Feng shui became my bridge between the physical chaos I could see and the emotional turmoil I was feeling inside. It wasn’t just about making my home look prettier (though that was a nice bonus). It was about recognizing that the energy in my space was directly affecting my mental wellness. Every pile of papers, every overflowing drawer, every “I’ll deal with that later” corner was creating an energetic weight that I carried around constantly.

The ancient practice taught me to see my home as a living, breathing extension of myself. When I looked at my cluttered bedroom through this lens, I could finally understand why I felt so restless and anxious there. The stagnant energy wasn’t just some woo-woo concept—it was real, and I was living in it.

Here’s where my approach to feng shui got interesting. I realized pretty quickly that following traditional rules to the letter wasn’t going to work for me. I’m not someone who thrives with rigid systems, and honestly? Some of the classical feng shui advice felt too prescriptive for my personality. So I started experimenting with what I now call intuitive home design—taking the core wisdom of feng shui and adapting it to fit my actual life.

I kept asking myself: Does this feel right for me? Instead of worrying about whether my bed was in the “correct” position according to ancient texts, I focused on whether the arrangement made me feel calm and supported. I borrowed the feng shui concept of energy flow but applied it in ways that made sense for my small apartment and my neurodivergent brain.

This personalized approach became what I call “home visiting”—a more flexible, intuitive version of feng shui that honors the traditional wisdom while making space for individual needs and modern living. It’s about creating alignment between your space and your actual self, not some idealized version of who you think you should be.

The beauty of this approach? It works whether you’re dealing with anxiety, ADHD, or just feeling generally overwhelmed by your stuff. It meets you where you are.

Practical Feng Shui Tips for Creating a Calming Home Environment

The beauty of feng shui lies in its accessibility—you don’t need to overhaul your entire home to feel the benefits. Small, intentional shifts can create a neurological-friendly environment that supports your mental well-being without overwhelming your already stretched capacity.

Let me share some strategies that genuinely made a difference in my space:

The Kitchen: Your Energy Hub

Your kitchen holds so much power in setting the tone for your day. I started by clearing my countertops of everything except what I actually use daily. Those appliances gathering dust? They went into storage. The result was immediate—less visual noise meant less decision fatigue every morning.

The fridge deserves special attention. I learned to organize items at eye level based on what my body actually needs, not just what’s convenient. Healthy options front and center, where I can see them. This simple shift reduced my resistance to making nourishing choices when my executive function was already tapped out.

Creating Breathing Room

Each room needs what I call “visual rest stops”—spaces where your eyes can land without processing information. Empty corners, clear surfaces, or a single meaningful object instead of a cluster. These pauses give your nervous system permission to settle.

The bedroom became my sanctuary when I removed anything work-related. No laptop charging on the nightstand, no piles of clothes waiting to be dealt with. Just sleep, rest, and calm. The impact on my sleep quality was undeniable.

Energy Cleansing Rituals

Before organizing any space, I started incorporating simple energy clearing. Opening windows, playing music I love, or even just setting an intention for what I wanted the space to support. This practice transformed decluttering from a chore into something almost meditative.

Your calming home setup doesn’t require perfection. I focused on one area at a time—sometimes just one shelf or drawer. The kitchen cupboards got attention when I had energy. The entryway when I needed a quick win. Each small victory built momentum without triggering that familiar overwhelm.

The key was making these adjustments work with my brain, not against it.

Letting Go: Emotional Techniques and Practical Options for Releasing Clutter

The hardest part of decluttering isn’t always the physical act of sorting through your stuff—it’s the emotional weight that comes with it. I learned this the hard way during my own journey. Every item I picked up seemed to carry a memory, a “what if,” or a guilt trip about money spent.

The Power of Gratitude Before Release

One of the most transformative letting go methods I discovered was practicing gratitude before parting with items. Instead of feeling guilty about getting rid of something, I started thanking each object for serving its purpose in my life. That sweater I never wore? It taught me what colors don’t work for me. Those books collecting dust? They were there when I needed them, and now someone else could benefit.

This gratitude practice shifted everything. It transformed decluttering from a painful process of loss into an act of appreciation and intentional release. I’d hold an item, acknowledge what it gave me, and then lovingly let it go. No drama, no guilt—just genuine thanks.

Practical Paths for Your Belongings

Once you’ve made peace with letting go, you need a plan for where things actually go:

• Donation creates the most immediate relief. Knowing your items will help someone else adds purpose to the release. Local shelters, thrift stores, and community centers are always grateful for gently used items.
• Selling works beautifully for higher-value items. Online marketplaces, consignment shops, or garage sales can recoup some money while ensuring your belongings find new homes.
• Gifting to friends or family members who genuinely need or want something creates connection rather than waste.

The donation benefits extend beyond just clearing your space—you’re actively contributing to your community while lightening your mental load. Each item that leaves your home creates room for the energy and experiences you actually want to invite in.

Setting Intentions and Planning Goals for a Clutter-Free Home

My decluttering journey truly shifted when I stopped treating it as a random weekend project and started approaching it with intention. I learned that without a clear vision of what I wanted my space to feel like, I’d declutter the same drawer three times and still feel stuck.

Vision casting became my secret weapon. I spent time journaling about how I wanted to feel in my home—calm, focused, energized. Not just “clean,” but genuinely at peace. This emotional anchor kept me going when motivation dipped or when I felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff.

Here’s what made goal setting actually work for me:

• Start with the feeling, not the task. Instead of “clean out closet,” I’d write “create a morning routine that feels spacious and unhurried.”
• Break it down ridiculously small. One shelf. One category. One decision at a time. My brain could handle “organize the coffee mugs” way better than “declutter entire kitchen.”
• Connect goals to your life vision. I realized my cluttered bedroom was blocking the restful sleep I desperately needed. Suddenly, dealing with that pile of clothes felt meaningful, not just like another chore.
• Write it down and look at it often. I kept a simple journal where I’d check in weekly—what worked, what didn’t, how my space was supporting (or sabotaging) my mental health.

The magic happened when I stopped chasing some Pinterest-perfect home and started designing a space that actually supported my life, my brain, my version of calm.

Overcoming Mindset Barriers: Shifting Perspectives on Clutter and Cleaning Habits

The physical act of decluttering is often the easy part. What trips us up? The stories we tell ourselves about our stuff, our space, and our ability to change.

I discovered this truth during my pandemic journey. My anxiety didn’t just manifest as physical clutter—it lived in my thoughts about that clutter. The “I’ll deal with it later” mentality. The “but what if I need this someday?” panic. The perfectionist voice insisting that if I couldn’t organize everything perfectly, I shouldn’t start at all.

The Perfectionism Trap

Perfectionism is a sneaky saboteur. It convinces you that your home needs to look like a magazine spread or it’s not worth the effort. This all-or-nothing thinking keeps you stuck in chaos because the gap between your current reality and that impossible standard feels too overwhelming to bridge.

I had to learn that a “good enough” clean kitchen beats a perfectly organized one that exists only in my imagination. Some days, clearing the counter is the win. Other days, I tackle the junk drawer. Both matter.

Conducting Your Bad Habits Audit

Here’s something powerful I learned: you can’t change what you don’t acknowledge. Take a honest look at your patterns:

• Do you avoid putting things away because you’re “too tired”?
• Do you keep items out of guilt or obligation rather than genuine use?
• Do you shop to fill emotional voids, then feel overwhelmed by the accumulation?
• Do you tell yourself you’re “just not an organized person”?

These mindset challenges aren’t character flaws—they’re learned behaviors. The beautiful thing about learned behaviors? They can be unlearned.

Reframing the Practice

Stop thinking of decluttering as a destination. Your home isn’t a project to complete; it’s a living space that evolves with you. Some weeks you’ll maintain beautifully. Other weeks, life happens and things pile up. Both are normal.

The goal isn’t perfection. It’s creating a space that supports your mental health more days than it doesn’t.

Personalizing Your Decluttering Roadmap: Adapting Strategies to Suit Your Unique Needs

Here’s what I learned through my own journey: there’s no one-size-fits-all solution to creating a calm home. What works beautifully for your organized friend might feel completely overwhelming to you. That’s not a failure—it’s just your brain working differently.

When I developed my approach to home organization, I knew it had to be flexible enough to work for people with different brain types organization styles. Some of us are visual processors who need to see everything. Others thrive with hidden storage systems. Some people work best with detailed lists and schedules, while others need more intuitive, flow-based approaches.

The adaptable roadmap I created recognizes these differences. Think of it as a framework you can customize rather than rigid rules you must follow:

For Visual Processors:

• Use clear containers and open shelving
• Create color-coded systems that speak to you
• Keep frequently used items within eyesight

For Those Who Prefer Hidden Storage:

• Invest in closed cabinets and drawers
• Use labels extensively so you remember what’s where
• Create “zones” behind closed doors

For Detail-Oriented Planners:

• Break decluttering into specific, timed tasks
• Track progress with checklists or spreadsheets
• Schedule regular maintenance sessions

For Intuitive Organizers:

• Follow your energy—tackle what feels right each day
• Create flexible “homes” for items that can shift as needed
• Trust your instincts about what stays and goes

Your home should support your life, not some Instagram-perfect ideal. I’ve worked with people in tiny apartments and sprawling houses, with ADHD and anxiety, with minimalist tendencies and sentimental hearts. The magic happens when you stop forcing yourself into someone else’s system and start building one that actually fits how you think and move through space.

Building Long-Term Habits for Maintenance: Sustaining Cleanliness Without Perfectionism

My decluttering journey taught me something unexpected: the goal was never to achieve a picture-perfect home. The real transformation happened when I stopped chasing an impossible standard and started building small, sustainable routines that actually fit into my life.

Understanding Habit Formation

Habit formation doesn’t require massive overhauls or spending entire weekends deep-cleaning. It starts with micro-actions that feel almost too simple to matter. I’m talking about putting your keys in the same spot every single day. Wiping down one counter while your coffee brews. Taking literally two minutes before bed to reset your living room.

These tiny moments add up. They become automatic. They don’t drain your energy because they’re woven into what you’re already doing.

The Secret to Consistency in Cleaning

The secret to consistency in cleaning lies in releasing the “all or nothing” mentality that keeps so many of us stuck. You know that voice that says, “If I can’t clean the whole house, why bother cleaning anything at all?” That’s perfectionism talking, and it’s been keeping your home chaotic far longer than any actual lack of time or energy.

Here’s What Actually Works

Here’s what actually works:

• Pick one daily non-negotiable: Maybe it’s making your bed or clearing the kitchen sink before sleep. Just one thing that happens no matter what.
• Set a timer for 10 minutes: Choose a room and tidy only until the timer goes off. You’ll be amazed what you can accomplish without the pressure of “finishing.”
• Create visual cues: Leave your cleaning supplies where you’ll see them. Out of sight truly means out of mind.
• Celebrate imperfect action: Folded laundry sitting in the basket for two days? That’s still better than laundry on the floor. Progress isn’t linear.

The homes that stay organized aren’t maintained by people with superhuman discipline. They’re maintained by people who’ve accepted that some days will be messier than others, and that’s completely okay.

Staying Motivated Throughout Your Decluttering Journey: Finding Support Along The Way

The hardest part of any transformation isn’t starting—it’s showing up day after day when the initial excitement fades. I learned this the hard way during my own journey. There were mornings when I’d look at the work ahead and feel completely drained, wondering if I’d ever reach that calm, organized space I’d envisioned.

Accountability partners changed everything for me. Having someone who understood the struggle, who could check in and say “Hey, how’s that bedroom corner coming along?” made all the difference. It wasn’t about judgment—it was about having another human being who genuinely cared about my progress and could celebrate the small wins with me.

You don’t need a professional organizer or life coach. Sometimes it’s a friend who’s also working on their space, a family member who wants to see you thrive, or even an online community of people on similar journeys. The key is finding someone who gets it—someone who understands that some days you’ll only manage to clear one drawer, and that’s still worth celebrating.

Ongoing motivation comes from connection. When I was developing my home visiting approach, I realized how powerful it was to have a supportive community around me. People who could share their struggles, their breakthroughs, their “I accidentally put cat food in the microwave again” moments without fear of being judged.

Consider joining online groups focused on decluttering, attending local organizing meetups, or even starting a text thread with friends who want to tackle their spaces. Share before-and-after photos, vent about the emotional weight of letting go, ask for advice when you’re stuck. These connections become your lifeline when motivation dips and the clutter starts creeping back in.

Conclusion

Looking back on my decluttering journey, I can honestly say that understanding the connection between my anxiety and my physical space changed everything. Those chaotic corners and piles of “memories” weren’t just clutter—they were visual reminders of unfinished business, constantly pulling at my mental energy.

The pandemic gave me something unexpected: time to really see my space and how it was affecting me. That isolation became an opportunity for personal transformation I never anticipated. Combining feng shui principles with my own intuitive approach helped me create what I now call home visiting—a flexible, neurologically-friendly way to approach decluttering that honors where you are right now.

My decluttering journey taught me that this isn’t about perfection. It’s about creating a space that supports your mental health, one small step at a time. The relationship between your environment and your well-being is real, powerful, and absolutely worth exploring.

If you’re feeling that same overwhelm I once felt, I’d love to invite you to explore this approach with me. The home visiting program I’ve developed is designed to make these principles accessible and adaptable to your unique needs. You don’t have to figure this out alone—there’s a whole community ready to support you in creating a home that truly feels like sanctuary.

Your calm, organized space is waiting. Let’s create it together.