We are trapped in our lives by clutter.

Shackled to our jobs, relationships, and houses by closets filled with stuff that we barely remember—mementos from better times in our lives, power cords belonging to gadgets several generations out of date, shoes and shirts tucked away in storage bins for the day when we might go out to a nice restaurant again.

People “have become the tools of their tools,” as Henry David Thoreau might say. Or more accurately, the clutter of their clutter.

And if Franz Kafka were to rewrite his famous short story “The Metamorphosis” with our overly curioed lives in mind (think Troll dolls and Franklin Mint collectibles), it might begin like this:

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from anxious dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a monstrous pile of junk. He lay on his Commodore 64 plastic back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his yellowed, newspaper abdomen divided up into wrinkled sections. From this height his childhood blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His numerous legs, built from stacked yogurt containers and pitifully flimsy in comparison to his pulpish circumference, flickered helplessly before his eyes. “What’s happened to me,” he thought. It was no dream.

Sadly, our American dreams of affluence and abundance have become chains around our necks, weighing us down with bulging garages and storage sheds until we start to identify with all that clutter. We can’t imagine giving away—let alone discarding—anything crammed into the nooks and crannies of our lives. “What if I need it someday?” or “That’s too special to let go of,” we say to ourselves.

Over time, though, our predilection for junk can become so extreme that we transform from carefree adults into hoarders worthy of cable television. This affliction is no small matter, either. Besides being the subject of a widely popular television series, hoarders have earned an air of legitimacy thanks to university researchers studying them to understand what drives a person to collect every toothpick or popsicle stick they ever used.

Researchers Investigate the Need for Clutter

Researchers have found that when hoarders try to clear their clutter, two regions of their brains are activated—the anterior cingulate cortex and the insula. These areas are associated with conflict and psychological pain, and are also turned on in drug addicts trying to quit.

For hoarders, the stronger the attachment to the clutter, the more the neurons in these regions of the brain fire. These types of brain signals also serve as an indication of “something wrong.” The brain is designed to avoid danger, so hoarders relieve the feeling of anxiety by holding onto their junk. Over time, though, this type of relief can become addictive.

Hoarders also experience more activation in another area of their brain—the ventromedial prefrontal cortex. This region is the home of “wantpower”—the sense that something is important to your goals and desires. Greater activity here is related to people being more likely to buy, eat, or do something. For hoarders, this means holding onto their possessions, and telling themselves that their junk might have value sometime in the future.

The ventromedial prefrontal cortex also provides people with a sense of “me”-ness. Greater activation is related to a stronger sense of personal relevance and meaning. A hoarder’s sense of self is deeply connected to the clutter. Throwing out their personal possessions, then, is akin to cutting off an arm.

How to Free Yourself of Clutter

Some people may be predisposed to hoarding, but like most psychological conditions, hoarding is a spectrum—from almost non-existent to severe. You don’t have to wait until your television debut, though, to deal with the clutter in your life. If your desire to hold onto the junk in your life is severe enough, you should seek out professional medical help, such as a clinical psychologist or psychiatrist.

Techniques like mindfulness meditation and yoga can also be useful in breaking free of your brain’s demands. Both of these help you become more aware of your impulses by training you to observe your mind closely. Instead of immediately responding to the “something wrong” anxiety, you bring your attention to an object like your breathing. This can help you “surf the urge,” riding the flow of breath until the impulse fades.

As you continue doing yoga and meditation, you become more adept at noticing your thoughts and emotions as they arise. In time, you will be able to distinguish between what your brain tells you (“this will make you happy” or “you might need this someday”) and the reality that you are not your clutter.

The very simplicity and nakedness of man’s life in the primitive ages imply this advantage, at least, that they left him still but a sojourner in nature. When he was refreshed with food and sleep, he contemplated his journey again. He dwelt, as it were, in a tent in this world, and was either threading the valleys, or crossing the plains, or climbing the mountain-tops. But lo! men have become the tools of their tools. –Henry David Thoreau, Walden

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