William N. Johnson

“Be careless in your dress if you must, but keep a tidy soul.”

— Mark Twain

The most important thing you can do for yourself is sleep. And if you can’t sleep, if your mind is buzzing when it should be winding down, then it might just be time to clean your room.

Seriously. Just look around. The air might feel heavier not because of running thoughts, but because of a subtle, insidious layer of dust sitting on everything. You don’t always notice it building up—the dust, the clutter, the stale air. It’s not glaringly obvious, especially in the dim light at night. But something feels off. The room feels heavier. It’s almost like your body knows before your mind catches up. That low-level chaos, that visual and atmospheric static, adds up, even if you’re not looking right at it. It whispers a constant hum of unfinished business.

But cleaning your room doesn’t have to be a stressful chore, another item on an already overflowing to-do list. In fact, it’s actually kind of relaxing. You’re not doomscrolling through endless feeds, nor are you wrestling with a million abstract problems. Instead, you’re engaged in simple, physical actions: wiping down baseboards, folding laundry, moving things around. It’s a quiet, tactile process, an oddly therapeutic meditation in motion.

I remember in 2023, I went through a summer trying to figure out how to manage stress, especially after my doctor’s visit in May. A lot was going on, both externally and internally. I spent countless hours cooking and baking, teaching myself how to make elaborate things from scratch, blogging, and so much more. I’d take long, indulgent evening baths and lift dumbbells in the living room while watching TV, almost as a visceral response to the mental turbulence. It was a stark period of self-soothing, but eventually, my attention turned to my physical space—my bedroom. And honestly, it just felt good to have fewer things running through my mind at that time, a tangible way to quiet the inner noise.

I’d had the same bedroom layout for years. It felt stagnant, boring. Like the room itself was clinging to an old version of me, a past self begging to be renewed. So one day, I decided to clean it. Really clean it. I moved almost every piece of furniture, and rearranged them. Wiped down every single surface. Cleaned the bedposts until they gleamed. Got all the dust off the baseboards and meticulously around the door frame. Oh, and I didn’t forget the ceiling fan. It was more than overdue; it was a necessity.

That small, yet profound, shift did more than just make my room feel fresh and new. It helped me feel like I was actively making space for something new in my life. Although it didn’t help me through the latter parts of 2023, at the moment it felt like I was finally catching up to myself, aligning my external environment with the internal state. It was progress.

It’s easy to put off stuff like this. You tell yourself you’ll clean when you “have time” or “have energy.” But the truth is, most of the time, doing it gives you the energy. It’s a virtuous cycle. Even if you just start with one small corner. Your desk, especially if you eat there. Your sheets—the scent of freshly cleaned linen. The baseboard behind your nightstand. A single drawer, emptied and organized. Each small act of tidying is a gentle push back against the tide of chaos.

And best of all, when your space feels lighter, cleaner, and more ordered, your mind often follows suit. So I tell myself this every once in a while—take a moment to clean your room, and you’ll sleep better.