Marie Kondo
When Cardi B said, “I got condos in that b*t$h head,” I visualized the mental skyscrapers that I’d constructed over the years. Clutter is a nuisance. And mental clutter? It will take us out!
Every spring, we get the urge to clear things out—junk drawers, inboxes, closets full of things we forgot we owned. But what about the clutter that never sees the light of day? The invisible kind that takes up real estate in our minds: the conversation that never happened, the closure that never came, the decision we’re still remaking, that one friendship that’s become a total drain.
Marie Kondo said, “To truly cherish the things that are important to you, you must first discard those that have outlived their purpose.” We don’t clear mental space to impress anyone. We do it because there’s only so much real estate in our brains—we drown. We are overcrowded by what used to matter, or never did. So much of the clutter just stuck around because we never got around to letting it go.
Clutter Isn’t Just Stuff
Clutter is anything that disrupts our ability to think, feel, or move clearly. Sometimes it’s obvious—hoarding objects, emails, paper, tabs—out of fear we might need them later. But most often, it’s subtle. It’s the low-grade anxiety humming in the background. The guilt that follows rest. The habits we picked up in survival mode that no longer serve our present or future selves.
It’s the intellectual noise we haven’t sorted through: the unresolved tension still sitting in our gut, the hurt we never grieved, the looping thought we can’t stop playing.
Clutter thrives in confusion. It makes us forget what we even wanted in the first place. When we don’t slow down, chaos swirls and we rationalize it as complexity. Clarity doesn’t require simplicity—it requires deliberacy. It asks us to be honest about our intentions—or admit when we have none.
Living Fully in Limited Spaces
Most of us are trying to live full, purposeful lives—careers, creativity, love, grief, joy, rest—all within very limited space: small apartments, packed schedules, stretched emotional bandwidth. Without room to process, we would like to think that we “forget.”
The truth is, we become numb. We stop noticing. We stop dreaming. And everything—joy, grief, growth—gets shoved into the same overloaded emotional junk drawer.
We cannot live expansively in a life that’s overfilled. Not without consequence.
Clearing clutter is how we achieve true liberation. And it starts with radical honesty:
Are we holding onto identities we’ve outgrown?
Are we keeping commitments out of obligation or fear?
Are we saying yes because we want to—or because we’re afraid to disappoint?
Clearing isn’t just release—it’s revelation. It’s confrontation. It’s the quiet courage to say: “This version of me deserves something different.”
The Reframe: Clarity Over Control
Organizing our lives won’t save us. Just like moving things around isn’t cleaning––let’s be honest. But paying attention to what we’re holding—and why—might. The Reframe doesn’t demand that we clean up to look good. It invites us to notice.
Because once we’ve done the work of Naming the Strain (Pillar One), clearing becomes sacred. We’re not just tossing things. We’re telling the truth. We’re unburdening our nervous systems. We’re choosing to live in alignment.
Try This:
Use silence. Sit quietly and observe thoughts without judgment. Are they old or new? Are they replays of things we can’t change? Take inventory.
Do a calendar gut-check. Circle every obligation that feels like a lie. Choose one to cancel, delegate, or decline.
Choose a corner of our home, our inbox, or our social life—and ask: “What are we tolerating here?”
When we release something—physical or otherwise—affirm: “I am choosing space over survival.”
Clearing is messy. It stirs things up.
But on the other side is space—and space is the oxygen our next season needs. Not performative minimalism. Not aesthetic productivity. But space—earned through honesty, rooted in alignment, and filled only with what matters now.
