I used to think my brain was like my old dorm room at BU – absolutely chaotic, stuffed with random junk I didn't need, and somehow making me feel anxious just by existing in it. You know that feeling when you walk into a cluttered space and immediately feel overwhelmed? That's exactly what was happening inside my head, except I couldn't just close the door and pretend it didn't exist.
My parents' house growing up was the complete opposite – everything perfectly organized, matching furniture sets, not a single thing out of place. But somehow that made my mental state even worse because I felt like I had to maintain that same level of perfection in my thoughts. Every worry, every random piece of information I'd absorbed, every notification ping – it all just accumulated in my mind like digital hoarding.
The turning point came during my sophomore year when I was taking that environmental science class that changed everything for me. Professor Chen mentioned something about how our consumption habits mirror our thought patterns, and it hit me like a truck. If I was learning to be more intentional about what physical stuff I brought into my life, why wasn't I applying the same logic to what I let into my headspace?
I started paying attention to how my brain actually worked throughout the day, and wow… it was a disaster. I'd wake up and immediately grab my phone, flooding my barely-conscious mind with news alerts, Instagram stories, text messages, emails from my parents about family dinner plans I didn't want to attend. By the time I'd had my first cup of coffee, my brain was already running at 100% capacity with mostly useless information.
The weird thing is, nobody really talks about mental clutter the same way they talk about physical clutter. When your apartment is messy, people understand that it affects your mood and productivity. But when your mind is cluttered? Everyone just accepts that as normal. "Oh, you're stressed and can't focus? Welcome to being in your twenties!" But that didn't feel right to me.
I started experimenting with what I call <a href="https://clearhomeclearmind.com/the-profound-impact-of-minimalism-on-mental-health/"><a href="https://clearhomeclearmind.com/the-profound-impact-of-minimalism-on-mental-health/">mental minimalism</a></a>, though I didn't have a fancy name for it at first. I just began treating my thoughts and mental inputs the same way I was learning to treat my possessions – with intentionality. Do I actually need to know what my high school acquaintance had for breakfast? Does reading seventeen different takes on the same news story serve any purpose? Am I holding onto worries that aren't actually helping me solve problems?
The first thing I tackled was my information diet. I know, I know – everyone says this, but seriously, the amount of mental junk we consume daily is insane. I deleted most social media apps from my phone (kept them on my laptop for intentional checking), unsubscribed from probably fifty email lists I'd somehow ended up on, and stopped reading news first thing in the morning. My parents thought I was becoming some kind of hermit, but honestly, I felt like I could think clearly for the first time in years.
But it wasn't just about limiting inputs – I also had to deal with all the mental clutter I'd already accumulated. You know how when you're decluttering your closet, you find clothes you forgot you owned? Same thing happened with my thoughts. I had anxieties I'd been carrying around from freshman year, grudges against people I barely remembered, and this constant background worry about living up to expectations I wasn't even sure I agreed with.
Journaling helped a lot with this, though I felt pretty ridiculous about it at first. I'm not exactly the dear-diary type, but writing things down made me realize how much mental energy I was wasting on repetitive thoughts. I'd write the same worry three days in a row and finally think, "Okay, either do something about this or let it go." Most of the time, I let it go.
I also started being way more selective about conversations and social situations. This sounds harsh, but I realized some people in my life were basically human clickbait – they'd dump all their drama and complaints on me, but never wanted to actually solve problems or hear different perspectives. These interactions would leave me feeling mentally drained and cluttered, so I began setting boundaries. "I've got to run" became my best friend.
The changes were pretty immediate. My stress levels dropped significantly, probably because I wasn't constantly processing irrelevant information and other people's emotional chaos. I could actually focus on my coursework without my brain ping-ponging between seventeen different concerns. Sleep got better too – turns out when you're not mentally processing the entire internet before bed, it's easier to actually rest.
My family noticed the difference when I came home for winter break. My mom kept asking if I was okay because I seemed "too calm." My dad wanted to know if I was meditating or taking some kind of medication. I tried explaining the <a href="https://clearhomeclearmind.com/the-profound-impact-of-minimalism-on-mental-health/">mental minimalism</a> thing, but they just looked at me like I'd joined a cult. To them, being constantly busy and stressed was normal, even admirable. The idea of intentionally simplifying your mental life seemed… lazy? Unrealistic? I'm still not sure what their objection was.
Dating got interesting too. I went out with this girl Sarah who spent the entire dinner scrolling through her phone and showing me random TikToks while talking about her complicated friendship drama with three different people I'd never met. I realized I couldn't handle that level of mental chaos anymore – it felt like someone was dumping a bunch of random objects into my carefully organized space.
The environmental connection became clearer as I continued with this approach. Just like reducing physical consumption helps the planet, reducing mental consumption helps your personal ecosystem. Every piece of unnecessary information you don't absorb, every drama you don't engage with, every artificial worry you don't take on – it all creates more space for the thoughts and concerns that actually matter.
I'm not perfect at this, obviously. I still get sucked into Reddit rabbit holes sometimes, still worry about things I can't control, still let my parents' expectations creep into my headspace. But the difference is I notice it now. I can feel when my mental space is getting cluttered and take steps to clear it out.
Living this way has made my job easier too. Working in sustainability requires a lot of focus and long-term thinking, which is impossible when your brain is constantly switching between random inputs. I can actually sit with complex problems now without getting distracted by mental noise. My coworkers probably think I'm just naturally calm, but really I'm just practicing good mental hygiene.
The best part is how much more present I am for the things that actually matter. When I'm hiking or reading or having a real conversation with someone, I'm actually there instead of mentally multitasking. It's like the difference between listening to music on crappy earbuds versus good speakers – suddenly you can hear details you were missing before.
Sometimes I wonder if this is just what mental health looks like and we've all gotten so used to chaos that we think it's normal. My studio apartment feels peaceful because I only keep what serves a purpose, and my mind feels peaceful for the same reason. It's not about being perfect or empty – it's about being intentional with what gets your mental energy.
The funny thing is, people my age often assume I'm just naturally chill or that I don't care about anything. But actually caring about fewer things means I can care more deeply about what remains. Instead of being moderately stressed about everything, I can focus my concern and energy on climate change, my relationships, my work – things where my mental investment might actually make a difference.
This approach isn't for everyone, and I get that. Some people thrive on mental stimulation and complexity. But if you're feeling overwhelmed by the constant noise in your head, maybe try treating your thoughts like possessions. Ask yourself: Does this serve a purpose? Does this align with my values? Am I keeping this out of habit or because it actually adds value to my life? You might be surprised by what you're willing to let go.
Nicholas’s a sustainability worker in Seattle who sees minimalism as climate activism. He writes about consuming less, living simply, and building a life that aligns with environmental values rather than material ones
