Before learning and reading about hoarding, I never really thought much about my cleaning and organizing process. I simply thought in black and white: some people are clean while others tend to be more messy. However, I have now come to realize that our relationship with objects is much more complex. Whether it’s a cluttered room filled with sentimental belongings or a spotless, minimalist space, the way we keep things is often a reflection of our emotions, social values, and even historical influences.
On one end of the cleanliness spectrum we have hoarding. Hoarding has often been framed as an individual problem. In DSM-5, it was classified as a disorder that is linked to anxiety, trauma, or indecision. But if we take a closer look at history, we see that hoarding wasn’t always seen as a disorder. It was once even associated with wealth or eccentricity. But now as consumer culture has reached an all time high, the line between collecting and disorderly accumulation has blurred. Extreme cases like the Collyer Brothers has become cautionary tales of the dangers of hoarding.
On the other side, we have extreme cleanliness. Cleanliness has been deeply moralized for centuries, as women were expected to maintain orderly homes as a reflection of their virtue. When germ theory arose, a spotless home became a matter of health as well as social status. Today, the pressure to keep up a pristine, Instagram-worthy living space- often fueled by corporations selling endless cleaning products – can be just as overwhelming as the anxiety of letting go.
So where do we draw the line? Is a perfectly tidy home always a sign of control, and is clutter always a sign of dysfunction? The truth is, the value we place on objects is highly personal and shaped by history, culture, and even class expectations. Perhaps the key isn’t just decluttering our spaces – but questioning why we feel the need to in the first place.