Stuff: the source of discontent

As we edge out of the Year of the Snake and begin to feel our way towards the Year of the Horse, there’s a natural urge in the air to shed, to lighten, to move more freely, without constraint.

The Snake teaches us about renewal. Not the dramatic kind, with tears and tantrums, but the slow, instinctive kind. Skin loosens. The old layer no longer fits. Eventually, it’s released without resistance. The Snake doesn’t then drag its old skin along, just in case it might come in useful later.

The Horse, by contrast, brings with it a sense of forward motion, powered by strength and clarity.

But a Horse carrying too much doesn’t bode well.
It tires quickly.
It struggles to keep momentum.

I don’t know about you, but this certainly resonates with me.

When we feel the itch to declutter, we tend to focus on cupboards, shelves, drawers, lofts. We Marie Kondo the sh*t out of the visible world, while our minds remain crammed full of obligations, half-decisions, emotional clutter, and mental to-do lists never quite ticked off.

No wonder it’s a struggle....

You Can’t Declutter a Home With a Cluttered Mind

Physical clutter is rarely just about objects. It’s about postponed decisions, unresolved emotions, memories we’re scared we’ll forget, and identities we’ve outgrown but haven’t yet released.

That dress you never wear?
It might be grief for a version of yourself that no longer exists.

That drawer of “useful bits”?
It might be fear of feeling like a failure if you need something and don’t have it.

That stack of papers you keep moving from room to room?
It might be the weight of things you don’t want to think about yet.

When your brain is still holding everything, asking your hands to let go doesn’t feel like the right way round.

Before we ask "What can go?", it helps to start one step earlier:

What am I still carrying with me that I don’t need anymore?

The Snake doesn’t force. It sheds when the time is right.

Decluttering works best the same way. Not as a binge-clean fuelled by guilt or a sudden burst of motivation, but as a gradual, ongoing loosening of attachment.

So this year, consider approaching decluttering as a conversation rather than a shouty command.

Instead of:
“I should sort this out.”
Try:
“Does this still belong with me?”

Instead of:
“I’ll deal with that later.”
Try:
“What decision am I avoiding here?”
“Can I break it down further?”

Instead of:
“Why can’t I be more organised?”
Try:
“What am I already carrying that makes this hard?”

Mental Decluttering Comes First

If your mind feels loud, cluttered, or permanently busy, that’s where to start.

Not with lists.
Not with productivity systems.
With unloading.

Some gentle ways to begin:

Externalise your thoughts
 Write everything down. Not in your neatest handwriting, just get it out of your head and onto paper. Your brain is not a storage unit. Use colours, pencils, a fancy quill, whatever feels best.

Name the invisible loads
Mental clutter often comes from emotional weight: expectations, unspoken obligations, roles you’ve taken on by default. Name them. You don’t have to drop them all. Awareness alone lightens the load.

Release the “someday” self
Many of us keep things for a version of ourselves that might return, or might never arrive. Letting go isn’t the same as giving up. It’s being honest about who you are now.

There’s another layer of clutter that often goes unnamed.

Fantasy clutter.

Cupboards full of all the gear, no idea.
Craft supplies for hobbies you were going to start an Etsy business with.
Books for the person you thought you’d become.

If you’re neurospicy, like me, this one hits especially hard.

Our brains are brilliant at imagining futures. We see possibility everywhere. We buy for enthusiasm, for dopamine, for a version of ourselves that feels exciting, capable, and to be finally organised.

This kind of clutter is hope, prematurely boxed.

Fantasy clutter is a mood hoover. Every time you open a cupboard, it quietly asks why you haven’t lived up to that imagined version of yourself yet.

If the answer is that future-you required more energy, time, or focus than you realistically have, it might be time to let that fantasy go.

You don’t need to keep proving anything.

Once the mind has space, the hands follow more easily.

Ask yourself this one question:

What do I actually need to carry forward?

Not what you should.
Not what you’ve always done.
Not what once made sense.

Just what still supports your movement now.

As you declutter this year, imagine yourself preparing for a journey rather than a spring clean. You don’t need everything you own. You need what supports your strength, your pace, and your direction.

Without the excess baggage.