When people hear the word “hoarding,” they often picture extreme clutter—homes packed with stacks of newspapers, broken appliances, or endless piles of stuff. But that image only shows the surface. Hoarding is more than a mess, and understanding it requires more than a cleanup crew. For years, even in mental health circles, hoarding was misunderstood or ignored. It wasn’t until 2013 that hoarding disorder was officially recognized as a clinical diagnosis.
Since then, researchers have uncovered new insights into how hoarding develops, why it’s so emotionally charged, and what actually helps. These findings challenge long-held assumptions—and offer more effective, compassionate ways to support those who struggle with letting go. Whether you’re trying to understand your own attachment to things or support someone close to you, the science now points to one truth: hoarding isn’t about stuff. It’s about what’s underneath.
Hoarding Starts Early—and Often Quietly
Hoarding isn’t something that appears out of nowhere in adulthood. In many cases, the foundations of this behavior are laid much earlier—often in childhood or early adolescence. Studies have found that hoarding tendencies commonly start between the ages of 11 and 15. That’s a developmental period when emotional regulation is still taking shape, and young people are dealing with a growing mix of academic pressures, shifting social dynamics, and identity formation. At that age, objects can begin to feel like anchors—physical representations of memories, comfort, or control. When researchers interviewed adults who struggle with hoarding, many could trace their behaviors back to this time. Even then, the emotional weight they placed on possessions was noticeable, though rarely recognized by others as something serious.
These early signs often go unaddressed because they don’t look like the dramatic scenes shown on television. A child keeping shoeboxes full of random items or feeling distressed when asked to throw something away doesn’t usually raise red flags. But for those who go on to develop hoarding disorder, the emotional attachment to objects isn’t casual or occasional. It’s consistent and deeply felt. Items that most people would discard without a second thought—a broken pen, old packaging, outdated schoolwork—can feel impossible to part with. One participant in a doctoral study described how even the idea of losing access to his college email account triggered a cascade of anxiety that pushed him to begin saving items obsessively. That small shift—losing something intangible like a login—was enough to provoke a strong emotional need to preserve tangible things, highlighting how hoarding often becomes more pronounced during life transitions.
Parental involvement during childhood can also play a significant role in shaping early hoarding tendencies. Many adults who hoard recall moments when parents threw away their belongings without consent or repeatedly pressured them to clean out their collections. While often done with good intentions, these actions can be emotionally damaging when the child hasn’t learned how to process their attachments or doesn’t feel emotionally safe. Instead of teaching healthy letting-go practices, it can reinforce a sense of loss and powerlessness. In some cases, this dynamic leads to even more intense attachment behaviors as a form of emotional self-protection. Research indicates that simply removing items—without addressing the feelings behind them—can make things worse over time, not better.
Why Letting Go Feels So Difficult
At the heart of hoarding is not clutter—it’s emotional attachment. For most people, getting rid of an old receipt or a broken appliance doesn’t require much thought. But for someone with hoarding tendencies, the same object can carry a complex web of meaning. It might represent a memory they’re afraid to lose, a version of themselves they want to preserve, or a future use they imagine could make the item valuable someday. That emotional weight transforms even the most trivial items into something worth holding onto, which makes the act of letting go feel distressing—sometimes even unbearable.
This is not the same as typical sentimentality. Most people hold onto a few keepsakes—photos, gifts, letters—but individuals who hoard often extend that emotional significance to a much wider range of items. That includes things others would immediately discard: outdated flyers, broken electronics, expired food, packaging materials. It’s not the object itself but what it symbolizes. For some, it’s about memory—letting go of the item feels like letting go of an experience, a connection, or a part of their identity. For others, it’s about perceived utility—the fear that throwing something away now will leave them unprepared in the future, even if that scenario is unlikely to occur.
This intense emotional relationship with objects makes treatment complicated. Hoarding isn’t about poor organization or lack of willpower. It’s about perceived loss. People with hoarding disorder often experience a genuine sense of grief when they’re asked to discard possessions. That emotional reaction is real, and ignoring it—or trying to bypass it with forceful cleanup methods—can cause more harm than good. This is one reason why traditional organizing strategies or family interventions often fail. Without addressing the emotional function that objects serve, clearing out the clutter becomes a temporary fix at best.
Another factor that adds to the difficulty is the cognitive overload that often accompanies hoarding behavior. Research has found that many individuals with hoarding disorder struggle with decision-making and categorization. Faced with the question of whether to keep or toss an item, they may spiral into an exhaustive mental loop: What if I need this later? What if I regret it? What does it say about me if I throw it away? That decision paralysis can lead to keeping everything—just in case. Over time, that hesitation turns into accumulation, which eventually snowballs into a living environment that’s chaotic and overwhelming.
What’s often misunderstood about hoarding is that it’s rarely about wanting more. It’s usually about being afraid to lose something. That fear isn’t always rational, but it is deeply felt. To someone on the outside, a cluttered home may look like a problem of excess. To the person living in it, every object is tied to an emotional thread—memory, identity, control, preparedness. Breaking that thread can feel like unraveling a part of themselves.
How Life Stress and Change Can Trigger Hoarding
While hoarding behaviors often begin early, they don’t always escalate right away. For many people, the urge to accumulate becomes more pronounced during periods of major life stress or transition. The trigger could be a loss—such as the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or the loss of a job. It could also be a significant change in environment, like moving to a new home or starting a new chapter in life. These events disrupt a person’s sense of stability and can create emotional uncertainty. In response, holding onto objects becomes a way to feel anchored when everything else feels uncertain or out of control.
These objects aren’t collected arbitrarily. In times of upheaval, even the most ordinary items can become stand-ins for emotional security. A person might start saving receipts to track spending in case of financial hardship, or keep expired coupons with the hope of being more prepared next time. It’s not about being thrifty or forgetful—it’s about reclaiming a sense of agency. When life feels unpredictable, being surrounded by belongings can offer a false but comforting sense of readiness and protection. For someone already predisposed to hoarding behavior, that comfort can quickly become dependence.
Researchers have also identified a pattern: when stress piles up, the ability to manage day-to-day decisions—including decisions about what to keep or discard—starts to break down. One doctoral study introduced the “struggling to manage” model, which reframes hoarding not just as a psychological issue but as a functional response to life circumstances. This model suggests that hoarding may emerge when someone is overwhelmed by their environment and lacks the emotional or logistical resources to cope. Rather than a disorder of excess, it’s a symptom of overload.
Health challenges can also complicate the situation. Chronic illness, limited mobility, or caregiving responsibilities can reduce a person’s ability to stay on top of clutter. In these cases, the physical act of managing possessions becomes more difficult, and the backlog builds over time. Even small tasks—like sorting through paperwork or organizing a closet—can start to feel insurmountable. Eventually, the home turns into a maze of objects not because of neglect, but because of exhaustion and limitation.
Practical Ways to Support Change Without Shame
For anyone living with hoarding tendencies—or trying to support someone who is—the first and most important step is shifting the conversation away from shame. Hoarding is often portrayed in the media as something extreme, embarrassing, or even grotesque. That kind of portrayal fuels stigma and prevents people from recognizing early signs in themselves or seeking help. The reality is that hoarding exists on a spectrum. Not everyone with clutter has a disorder, and not all hoarding is visible. What matters is how the behavior affects day-to-day life, safety, and emotional well-being.
If you’re concerned about your own attachment to objects, it helps to start with awareness, not purging. Ask yourself why certain items feel hard to let go of. Are you keeping them because you truly use or value them—or because they represent something you’re afraid to lose? Journaling or talking this through with a mental health professional can clarify the emotional role your possessions are playing. Avoid the trap of aiming for minimalist perfection. A better goal is to build a healthier relationship with stuff: one that gives you space to live, not just store.
If you’re supporting someone else, avoid judgmental language like “you just need to clean up” or “why can’t you throw that away?” These comments often backfire, especially if the person already feels overwhelmed or ashamed. Instead, ask questions that invite reflection without pressure: What does this item mean to you? Would it help if we found a way to preserve the memory without keeping the physical object? These conversations take time and may need to happen gradually. Pushing too fast can increase distress and resistance.
Start small—literally. For someone with hoarding behaviors, even sorting through a single drawer can be emotionally taxing. Choose one manageable area and set a short time limit. Focus on easy wins first: duplicates, items with obvious damage, or things the person feels neutral about. Celebrate progress, no matter how minor it seems. Avoid large-scale cleanouts unless the person is actively involved and emotionally ready. Otherwise, the sudden loss of items can feel traumatic and undo any trust that’s been built.
Consider involving a mental health professional, especially one trained in cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) or hoarding-specific interventions. These specialists can help explore the emotional function of clutter and build strategies for gradual change. In some cases, community-based resources or peer support groups—like those offered by organizations such as Clouds End—can also be helpful. They offer a space to talk openly, share progress, and learn from others facing similar challenges.
Finally, remember that progress in hoarding isn’t always linear. Setbacks are common, especially during stressful times. The key is persistence and compassion—both for yourself and others. Treating hoarding like a behavioral failure misses the point. It’s a deeply personal, emotionally charged struggle. And lasting change happens when that reality is acknowledged, not dismissed.
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