How going low-waste helped me protect my peace in a world filled with chaos

To be human is to love a good life hack. I like the part of Google's definition that refers to a life hack as a technique to "reduce chaos," because that's precisely how I find myself chronicling the mental benefits of keeping my household as low-waste as possible.

That psychological boost doesn't solely stem from feeling good about helping the environment — being more eco-friendly at home is one of the only habits that consistently helps me feel less overwhelmed about life. Like many other adults, my mood, emotional state, and ability to sleep have become heavily intertwined with the length of my to-do list. Living more low-waste minimizes the number of household tasks I need to worry about, making me feel a little more put together.

So yes, while I find deep comfort in minimizing my plastic and food waste footprint for the planet's sake, I also find comfort in less trash to take out, fewer nasty smells, and less clutter overall. Those are all tangible results of the easy, eco-friendly changes that actively de-stress my daily routine. If the internet's traditional stress and anxiety hacks haven't worked for you, let me explain how creating less waste has helped me to protect my peace.

The psychology of a clean, de-cluttered space, but applied to trash

I firmly believe that my household's trash production and my anxiety level are positively correlated. The physical chaos of an overflowing bag, the tedious walk to the trash room, the wastefulness of it all — it's overwhelming. So I've implemented a few easy routine changes over the years that have seriously limited my garbage output by a long shot, and that control has done wonders to keep me sane when I'm spiraling.

You've probably heard of the connection between physical clutter and mental clutter. Maybe you read an article (or watched a TikTok) about it or found out that you are, in fact, more productive when your desk is tidy. Though most references to this connection are talking about your mind's subconscious reaction to visible clutter, my mind definitely counts concealed trash as clutter, despite the trash can living behind a cabinet door.

The mere thought of gallons of gross, sticky, smelly trash piling up in my kitchen feels just as disorderly and dirty as crusty dishes stacked in the sink.

Imagine how rarely you'd have to take out the trash if you weren't throwing food away

My Mill food recycling bin has put the biggest dent in the amount of waste my apartment makes, and I can't imagine living without it. It's basically the size of a traditional step-on kitchen trash can, and even has the presser foot.

Instead of putting plate scrapings, food prep scraps, or old leftovers directly into the trash, just about any food can be dumped into the Mill instead. Every night, before any of the meat or dairy or soggy spinach would start to stink up the place, Mill dehydrates and churns food into a soil-like consistency, which I then mail back to Mill to be repurposed into chicken feed.

Without food in the equation, my three-person household barely goes through one garbage bag per week. Trash duty is needed so infrequently that no one dreads it, especially because it's not that gross of a chore, either — no food means no mystery juice dripping from the bag onto your sock.

Pre-Mill, I was first introduced to the concept of compacting home food waste through Lomi. Most of those electric countertop composters aren't actually creating real "compost," but they're still drying and grinding your food scraps to a fraction of their original size. The result is a small bucket of "dirt" that won't reek if it then sits in your trash for a few days, and won't release as much methane at the landfill. Any of these countertop gadgets is a game-changer if you don't have a garbage disposal.

Plastic waste has been another leading source of the permanent pit in my stomach since 2018, when I learned that most plastic doesn't actually get recycled.

All of the empty cleaning bottles and laundry detergent jugs that hogged so much space in my bin were basically destined to rot for 500 years. Awesome! For the majority of us who don't have curbside recycling, taking the recycling out involves extra walking or driving. For me, it's a dreaded elevator ride down to my apartment's sketchy basement — so I'm always trying to strategically stretch my recycling bin's life before I have to go down there again. The switch from plastic to paper packaging that can be folded or flattened creates more room to shove stuff in.

A low-waste lifestyle requires less chaotic storage at home

Pretty much my entire cleaning routine has been low-waste-ified, which plays just as big of a role in the organization of storage spaces as it does in downsizing my trash. And organization at home plays a critical role in my daily stress level.

There aren't a million plastic spray bottles clanking around in the cabinet under my sink. Multi-surface cleaning spray refills come in the form of a small Blueland tablet dissolved in the same glass bottle. My dissolvable laundry detergent strips come in a thin cardboard envelope, which is much easier to tuck away than a huge, crusty jug of laundry detergent. Stretchy dishwasher-safe silicone lids have fully replaced plastic wrap, and Swedish dishcloths (reusable paper towels that can go in the dishwasher) have freed my closet from a never-ending tower of paper towel rolls.

My parents have also had a positive downsizing experience on their lower-waste journey. My dad hasn't had to step around an industrial case of bottled water in the garage since they simply switched to a nice faucet filter. My mom took my robot vacuum and mop advice and got to free up precious shelf space that had previously been home to boxes of Swiffer WetJet refill pads. Seriously, don't underestimate the calming power of structure within your home's storage setup.

The low-waste route shrinks my recurring shopping list

I don't think enough people realize that switching to lower-waste home habits would mean that they won't have to restock so many household supplies all the time. There's serious freedom in severing your reliance on disposable items, plus shorter (cheaper) grocery store lists.

Replacement paper towels or Ziploc bags aren't permanent fixtures on the grocery list now that we've stopped relying on the disposable versions of either. When you don't burn through multiple garbage bags on a weekly basis, you rarely experience the rage of realizing you're out of fresh bags. Yes, some low-waste swaps do cost a little more up front, but their reusability pays for itself within a few months.

I'm a maximalist when decorating, but a minimalist when holding onto junk

The mental weight of stuff is real. Not "stuff" in a maximalist chic decor way, but "stuff" as in all the crap that's living in your home and your mind rent-free. You don't know what to do with it, so you just keep it (and then feel its dark presence hovering every time you're in that room). That overstimulating stress loop made it impossible for me to fully relax at home for quite some time. But after being in low-waste mode in my kitchen for a few years, the pipeline to all-over home decluttering came naturally.

Suddenly, I was inspired to clean out the drawers, shelves, and under-bed bins that had accumulated anxiety-inducing levels of junk — and then sit down and research how to sustainably get rid of that junk. It turns out that there are comically easy ways to recycle broken phone chargers, dried-out pens, dead batteries, old glasses, and so many other random knick-knacks that I held on to just because I'd feel just as anxious about sending them to a dumpster.

For unwanted items with a little more value, like clothes or old AirPods or decor that isn't my taste anymore, online resale apps have become core to mitigating my messy home restlessness. You'd be shocked at the range of niche items that shoppers are willing to take off your hands. If there was any level of sentimental attachment, I can breathe a little easier knowing the item is getting a second life instead of collecting dust on an overflowing Goodwill shelf.

I've realized that maintaining an uncluttered space isn't a challenge when you have clear-cut methods to properly discard unwanted stuff. I now have a pretty solid idea of what can be recycled where, even the really-hard-to-recycle stuff, and what might sell on eBay.

If I'm not sure, my reflex is now to research what to do with it instead of cramming it into a procrasti-clutter drawer. Similarly, I've been able to keep up with a weekly fridge clean-out schedule because I can casually throw anything in my Mill bin. I no longer put expired stuff back in just because it'll stink in the trash, and old leftovers are no longer piling up to the point that no new groceries can fit.

Now that my brain is rewired to take the path of least waste in most situations, I've gotten really good at acquiring less stuff in the first place. If I'm on the fence about a purchase, the first question I ask myself is, "Will this be a pain in the ass to deal with a year from now?" Am I really going to be excited about this item for longer than a few months? Is it high-quality enough to last for a long time? Can I find it secondhand on Depop? While I'll never deny the importance of getting yourself a little treat just because, intentional shopping is such an underrated method of stabilizing a swirling mind.