Who would have thought that the famed phrase from Shakespeare’s soliloquy would hold true in its many variations over the centuries? And yet, here we are. One might wonder what mindfulness and minimalism have to do with this idea. As it turns out—everything.

Of all the spaces we strive to keep clean and clutter-free—our homes, closets, garages, workstations, email inboxes—there’s one space we can never step out of: our own minds. And, sadly, this is where the most clutter accumulates. Unlike physical spaces, this mental clutter isn’t neatly bagged or stacked; it sprawls in unsorted piles of guilt, anger, hesitation, and self-doubt. Much of it is fueled by societal, cultural, and even generational coding—messages about how we should behave, look, and live.

Take something as simple as preparing for a trip. Suddenly, the clothes that felt perfectly adequate yesterday seem outdated and ill-fitting. Regardless of whether it’s a business trip or a vacation, we rush to the stores to buy “new” things, convinced we need them. Or consider the raise at work that transforms a perfectly functional vehicle into one that feels “boring.” Before we know it, we’re upgrading to a new model, not even sure which features we’re paying for.

The same pattern repeats in our approach to self-care. Spa days, hair coloring, fitness regimens—all perfectly fine pursuits, but how often do we pause to ask: Am I doing this for my own joy, or because I feel pressured to meet society’s expectations of me?

There’s nothing wrong with buying nice things or indulging in self-care. The problem lies in the stress we allow ourselves to feel once we commit to them—the guilt of spending time or money, the anxiety of not measuring up, the self-doubt that lingers even after the deed is done.

Minimalism, for me, isn’t just about decluttering physical spaces. It’s about clearing the mental clutter that weighs us down. And while organizing a closet or tidying a room can be challenging, decluttering the mind is infinitely harder. A closet doesn’t argue back, but the mind does. Each time I feel I’ve cleared a corner of self-doubt or guilt, it reappears—like a persistent shape-shifter—nudging its way back in when I least expect it.

It’s a constant battle, but one worth fighting. Why? Because the alternative is letting this clutter consume us.

Taking time for yourself doesn’t make you selfish. Going for a jog doesn’t mean you’ve neglected your family. Cooking your favorite dish doesn’t make you unfair to others. Extending a coffee date into a dinner date isn’t a crime. Missing a call or two from your parents doesn’t make you a bad daughter—it makes you human.

We often assume our families “tolerate” us, but isn’t it funny how we never pause to think that they, too, feel lucky to have us? They don’t blame us for taking breaks or indulging in small joys. Why, then, do we judge ourselves so harshly? Where does this mental clutter even come from? The journey of minimalism isn’t about finding someone to blame—it’s about identifying the clutter and keeping it out.

Because in the end, the goal is simple: to consume the joys of life without being consumed by them.