Decluttering my home of 17 years showed me my 'poverty mentality' has been doing me more harm than good

The offers and details on this page may have updated or changed since the time of publication. See our article on Business Insider for current information.

Affiliate links for the products on this page are from partners that compensate us and terms apply to offers listed (see our advertiser disclosure with our list of partners for more details). However, our opinions are our own. See how we rate products and services to help you make smart decisions with your money.

• At the urging of my sister-in-law, I finally decluttered my home of 17 years recently.
• I had a hard time getting rid of things, even if they no longer made sense in my life.
• My 'poverty mentality' was holding me back, but getting rid of those items freed up mental and physical space.

In 2004, my wife and I moved from a 1,200-square-foot flat full of belongings into an 800-square-foot condo. I had done a huge declutter at our old place before we moved, so I was confident that I could keep my clutter to a minimum in a smaller space. But I hadn't dealt with one of the most significant factors underlying my hoarding instincts: poverty mentality.

Seventeen years later, I had to confront this issue to create a comfortable living space. 

What is 'poverty mentality'?

I define poverty mentality as living in unnecessary scarcity and fear. It leads me to make poor decisions about the possessions I bring into my home.

The scarcity mindset gives me an excuse to hang onto random possessions. Yes, perhaps the item is broken or ugly, or it doesn't fit me or our house, but my poverty mentality tells me that I need to keep it because I will never be able to afford another. That belief has led me to hang onto clothes that don't fit (even though I have plenty of clothes that do fit) and furniture I don't need. And looking for bargains can lead me to spend more on a bunch of cheap stuff that doesn't meet my needs than I would on one pricier item that is exactly right.

I first became aware of this pattern when I bought a new couch in 2001. I had never owned a new sofa before — at the time, I'd never bought a piece of furniture new other than mattresses. The price was $750, which was a lot of money for me back then. But I realized that I could spend the same amount of money on random, marginally useful items from the thrift store, and I knew I'd get more satisfaction from the couch.

The new sofa was a revelation. When I sat on it, the springs were firm, and I didn't sink between the cushions, something I didn't realize was possible. 

The couch, covered in swirly patterned purple velvet, is still in our living room. Now, I do sink into the cushions, and it's finally time to replace it, but the scarcity mindset is hard to shake. 

My wife and I have comfortable salaries, and with our budget, we can afford to buy nice furniture, but the rest of our house was still full of freebies and stuff that wasn't working for us — until this summer.

Changing my attitude was hard at first

On a visit before the pandemic, my wife's sister took one look at our overstuffed living space and offered to come back and help us declutter and reorganize our home. She is a minimalist and a designer, so she had lots of ideas about making the space work better for us. She was finally able to help us this August, a visit I anticipated with excitement and a fair amount of dread.

My first response to every suggestion she had to get rid of stuff was, "No!" I didn't want to part with shelves left behind by the unit's previous owner, a rolltop desk that was far too big for our living room, or a table a neighbor had given us when they moved that had been disassembled and gathering dust for years. It broke my heart to give up kitchen items, especially the handmade pottery I had collected at craft shows over the years, even the pieces that were chipped and didn't fit into our cabinets. 

But, as we filled boxes for Goodwill, sold pieces of furniture, and rearranged what was left, I warmed to the project. The things I was hanging onto were a larger burden than I realized. Pants that no longer fit were asking me when I was going to lose those 10 pounds. The books gathering dust wondered why I hadn't read them yet. Giving those items away opened up space in my head as well as my home.

I've even become willing to give up my beloved yellow Formica and chrome kitchen table and the red vinyl matching chairs. We must put a kitchen island in their place for much-needed storage and counter space — and the island can be yellow.

I've now learned that less is more

Last year, a bigger unit in our complex was up for sale, and we thought about buying it to have more space. But my wife's sister told us that our place was bigger than we thought, and she was right. 

Without the hulking furniture that we were sure we needed, our space feels lighter and airier. We replaced our freebie coffee table with a beautiful brand-new table that includes a storage space. We repaired an antique armoire (one of the only pieces our mentor let us keep), and our new couch will arrive someday.

My wife and I have both worked very hard to advance our careers. But my poverty mentality kept me living as though I were barely employed and living paycheck to paycheck. It kept me from thoroughly enjoying and inhabiting my living space and dragged me down with the weight of all the possessions I had to manage and organize.

Worse, the mindset that leads me to hang onto stuff costs me money. For example, as I decluttered this summer, I found a pair of glasses that I misplaced over a year ago, buried in a pile of books. I had just bought another pair to replace them.

It's not always about spending less money

My attitudes about spending money are generational. My parents grew up during the Great Depression, and they have continued to scrimp and save and worry that they would end up on the street, even though they have a generous retirement income. For example, it was too cold for them to get out to the grocery store one winter. The friendly local health food store owner would have dropped off groceries, but their prices were higher than the chain supermarket in the next town, so my parents skipped meals instead.

Now it's time for me to take a different path around finances than my parents. The opposite of my poverty mentality isn't to act like I'm rich (I'm not) or spend every dime I make. I will still look for bargains and ways to cut corners. But, especially when it comes to organizing my home, I am willing to spend a bit to own beautiful, functional items that bring me joy.

I want to view the act of giving away things that no longer work for me as a form of self-care rather than an admission of failure. The money it takes to create a harmonious living space is well-spent. After all, what is money for but to help us live happily?

This article was originally published in October 2021.