How to Release Emotional Clutter (Without Feeling Like a Terrible Person)

Some things aren’t hard to let go of because they’re useful. Or beautiful. Or even rare.

They’re hard to let go of because they meant something.

You go to declutter. You feel ready. Maybe even a little energized. And then you hit something—and suddenly, you’re not sure what you’re looking at anymore. Is it clutter? A memory? A version of you that doesn’t exist anymore but still wants a place?

That’s when it gets tricky. Because you’re not just sorting through stuff—you’re sorting through meaning. And when meaning is involved, it’s rarely just about the thing.

Over the years, I’ve realized that the items that trip us up the most aren’t always the sentimental ones. They’re the emotional ones. The ones tied to identity, to longing, to moments that feel like they shaped us. Trying to power through those the same way you’d tackle a junk drawer just doesn’t work. It backfires.

So, instead of pushing through that resistance, what if we slowed down and shifted how we approach it?

Here are five ways to release emotional clutter—with care, clarity, and a little more trust in your ability to carry forward what truly matters.

1. Celebrate What It Was

Some spaces hold more than furniture and wall hangings.

They hold versions of us. Seasons of us.

They’ve seen the full stretch of our lives—our best days, our breakdowns, the decisions we made when no one else was watching.

And when it’s time to let go of something from one of those chapters—a home, a car, a keepsake—it can feel surprisingly layered. Because on the surface, you’re just releasing an object. But underneath? You’re closing out a part of your story.

Several years ago, I came across a post by Melyssa Griffin about her home in LA that she was saying goodbye to. She wrote:

“As the years passed, I started to feel a connection to the home beyond it being just a physical place. It seemed like it had a soul or energy of its own… I loved decorating my house because it combines two of my deep loves—self-expression and creating a feeling of home for myself and others.”

She went on to describe how this one space held her through plant medicine ceremonies, game nights, honest conversations, grief, healing, and growth. She even had photos taken before leaving to freeze that version of herself in time. To honor what the home had meant to her.

When I read her words, I felt that quiet click of recognition. Because I’ve lived in spaces like that too. Spaces that felt more like a friend than a building. Spaces I cleaned or rearranged when I needed to process something. Spaces that held me up when I wasn’t sure I could hold myself.

I share all this because when you’re releasing a home—or anything attached to one—it can be incredibly powerful to pause long enough to say thank you. Not because the home needs it. But because you do.

• Maybe you set the table one last time with the dishes you’ve decided to pass on.

• Sort through the stuffies with your now-grown kid and share hilarious memories of the things that poor teddy bear had to go through

These small rituals can be grounding. Healing. They help bridge the gap between what was and what’s next.

2. Digitize or Downsize

There’s a kind of mental and emotional drag that happens when things live in boxes for years—things that mean something, but that aren’t actively part of your life anymore.

You don’t see them every day, but they’re there. Weight you’re still carrying.

A lot of people feel like they have to make a hard call: keep it or toss it. But there’s a whole in-between space that’s softer and more sustainable. A space where the memory still gets honored, just in a way that doesn’t take up so much room.

You might:

• Photograph a stack of handwritten cards and archive them digitally.

• Take pictures of your child’s art from the early years and turn it into a photo book you’ll actually flip through.

• Keep the final draft of a letter or speech instead of the entire pile of scribbled versions.

• Scan a few recipe cards from a relative’s collection and save them in a slim, high-quality print.

The idea isn’t to minimize what these things meant. It’s to let them become lighter. More accessible. Easier to revisit.

Because truthfully? A lot of us aren’t really enjoying these memories—we’re storing them. And over time, storage becomes stress. Not in an obvious, chaotic way. But in that quiet, background-noise way where, you just keep avoiding a certain drawer or never feel totally done with your space.

I once read a study from Penn State that found people were more willing to part with sentimental items after photographing them. That rang true for me. And for a lot of people I’ve worked with. The meaning didn’t disappear—it just no longer relied on the physical object to stay alive.

You can still keep what matters. But you don’t have to keep all of it in its original form to feel connected to it.

And maybe that’s the shift:

You’re not discarding.

You’re distilling.

You’re keeping the essence while releasing the excess.

3. Transform It Into Something New

Some things are hard to let go of not because you still use them, but because of what they represent—what they remind you of when you touch them, or what version of yourself you associate with them.

And sometimes, those things aren’t ready to leave.

They just need a different role in your life.

You don’t have to hold onto the whole wedding dress, but maybe there’s a way to stitch part of it into a keepsake pillow. You don’t need a drawer full of your grandmother’s jewelry, but maybe you repurpose one piece into something you’d actually wear now.

When I hear stories from people who’ve found creative ways to integrate something old into their current life, it almost always carries a deeper meaning than the item did in its original form.

One woman I spoke with was helping clear out her mother’s home after decades of accumulated "just-in-case" items. Instead of trying to keep it all, she carefully selected a handful of trinkets and keepsakes and made a mosaic flower pot with her daughter.

Sometimes, the things we’ve packed away have more life in them than we realize. Not in their original state but in what they could become if we gave them a second chance to be visible.

There’s nothing wrong with keeping something purely for memory’s sake. But when you find that rare item that still feels alive in your hands, and you can imagine it showing up in your life again in some new form—those are the things that are worth reworking.

4. Create a Memory Capsule

When you're dealing with emotional clutter, there are always going to be a few things you want to keep.

That’s where memory capsules come in. We use them in our house, and they’ve made the process so much easier.

Each person has one box. Mine and Matt’s has a few of our wedding cards, our vows, and a bunch of handwritten notes from the girls when they were little. They’re not fancy, but they keep the important stuff contained instead of floating around the house or getting lost in a pile somewhere.

Having a box like this gives you a clear spot for the stuff you actually want to keep. We’re not trying to save every scrap of paper- just holding onto the really cool things that make us smile.

It works for kids, too. Ours each have a “memory box,” and they get to choose what goes in it. When it gets full, we go through it together and make space for whatever comes next.

You don’t need a system full of folders or labels. Just a box with clear limits and a purpose. It helps you stay connected to the things that matter without letting them take over every shelf or drawer.

It’s one of the simplest ways I’ve found to keep the past close—but contained.

5. Pay Homage

There are times when you’re ready to let something go, but you still want to carry a piece of it forward- just a little piece.

That might mean painting your study the same shade of bold black you used in your first apartment- or bringing along a single object—like a doorknob, a handwritten phrase, or a small piece of fabric—from something larger, you’re letting go of or moving away from.

These kinds of details don’t take up much space, but they can hold a lot. They help you stay connected to a chapter or place that meant something, even as you move on.

Think of Parks and Rec (my current nighttime re-binge)- where Ron makes a picture frame out of the hardwood from Anne's front door before the place was demolished.

You don’t have to hold onto the entire thing to stay connected. A single thread—a color, a phrase, a detail—might be enough.

The Part That Stays With You

There’s no checklist for this kind of letting go.

You don’t need to keep the item to keep the story.

You don’t need the object to prove you loved, lived, or belonged.

What stays with you is the experience. The person you were. The way that season shaped you. And letting go doesn't have to feel like pulling teeth- it could feel like excitement and gratitude if you do it the right way with the right intention.