When Chaos Became My Armor

By Ivana Nady

"You can only meet someone as deeply as you’ve met yourself."—Matt Kahn

For years, my living space carried a quiet kind of chaos. Not dramatic clutter, but a constant undercurrent of disorder. Piles of paper, half-unpacked bags, corners filled with things I didn’t want to deal with. I moved often, working for international organizations that assigned me furnished apartments in different parts of the world. Every year I found myself surrounded by new walls, new furniture, new people.

But the story was repetitive, like a Groundhog Day.

In every apartment, there was a moment when I would stop trying. I wouldn’t unpack everything. I wouldn’t decorate. I’d tell myself it was temporary, so there was no point in settling in too much.

I told myself I was too tired. That I didn’t have the energy to “make it nice.” That my work came first, and this space, whatever and wherever it was, was just a placeholder for a better thing to come.

But deep down I knew better. Looking back, the clutter wasn’t about lack of time, or the pace, or the moves.

It was about shame, it was about fear, it was about hiding.

It was my armour. I didn’t want anyone to come over. And not because there was anything terrible about the space. These were often decent apartments, even beautiful in some ways. But the way I lived in them reflected something I didn’t yet know how to name.

There was always a reason not to invite people in, and that reason was always, “It’s a mess.” At the time, I wasn’t even fully aware what I was doing. I thought I was protecting my energy, my privacy, my need for rest.

But what I didn’t realize was that I was also protecting my shame, the part of me that feared being fully seen. The part that thought: “If they see me fully, they will know I don’t belong.

They will know that I’m not good enough.”

The clutter was more than mess, it was a strategy, a shield. And in using it, I kept people out. Not just from my home, but also from my life. From real connection. From knowing the unfiltered, vulnerable, honest me.

There was one moment I’ll never forget.

I had just moved into yet another temporary apartment in a city I was yet to discover. I sat at the kitchen table, a lukewarm cup of tea beside me, the light outside already fading. Around me were half-unpacked suitcases, and a sense of emptiness that went far beyond the physical space.

I met so many new people, but I didn’t really feel connected to anyone. And I realized that no one had really seen me either. In social settings I was always the quiet one, always trying to blend into the background under the pretence I was happy on my own.

The loneliness hit hard. But it wasn’t new, it had been building, one cluttered drawer at a time. That was the moment I realized the mess wasn’t accidental. It was intentional. Not consciously, maybe, but somewhere inside, I had made a decision a long time ago. Keep the space uninviting, and no one will come. Keep the door closed, and you will be safe.

But in doing so, I wasn’t protecting myself, I was isolating myself. Until I realized that my connections with people are just as half-investments as was my space.

I didn’t change overnight. I didn’t suddenly declutter everything and repaint the walls with newfound joy.

I started by one drawer.  It was filled with tangled cords, receipts from countries I had already left behind, dried-up pens, and items I had no emotional connection to but hadn’t had the energy to deal with.

I opened it as I was looking for something, not to organize, not to be productive. But I got overwhelmed by the mess in there. And as I began to sort through it, something cracked open.

I got frustrated; I got emotional.

Not because of what I was throwing away, but because of what it all represented. Years of transition. Years of telling myself I’d settle when I find the perfect place, when I get the promotion, when I meet the right guy. Years of holding my breath, emotionally and physically, waiting for a permission to feel at home.

That drawer held the mess of my life. I didn’t declutter in a frenzy. I wasn’t aiming for minimalism. I wasn’t trying to perform transformation. I was simply moving, piece by piece. With each item I let go of, I felt lighter, not just in my space, but in my body. The items I was clearing were my grief, my avoidance, unprocessed chapters of my life. With this I created space for something new. Peace. Clarity. And eventually connection.

There’s something deeply vulnerable about allowing someone into your home. It’s a kind of intimacy that can’t be filtered. Our homes are the mirror of ourselves.

My home is still a work in progress. But something essential has shifted: I’ve started inviting people over.

Not because everything is perfectly in place. Not because I’ve unlocked some magical formula. But because I’m learning to show up just as I am.

I still worry: What if they judge me? What if they don’t like it? What if I’m too much… or not enough?

And this fear feels even sharper because of the work I do.

I guide others through space transformation. I speak about energy flow, alignment, Feng Shui. So when someone walks into my home, I wonder: Are they expecting perfection? Are they looking for proof? Are they silently measuring me against my work?

And maybe some of them are. But what matters more is how I choose to meet that moment, because my work isn’t about perfection. It’s about authenticity. It’s about using space as a reflection of the self, and the self is always evolving, always shifting, always in process. It’s messy.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand: Clutter is rarely just about “stuff.” It’s about emotions, identity, self-worth. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s self-protection. And sometimes, it’s a perfectly reasonable strategy in a world that asks too much of us.

But eventually, what once kept us safe can begin to keep us small. If your space feels heavy, I want to offer you this gentle beginning, not as an expert telling you what to fix, but as someone who’s still going through the process herself:

Start here:

Choose one space—just one. A clutter box. A drawer. A shelf. Even a full room if you are feeling brave. Choose something that you have been avoiding.

Pick up an item and notice what emotions come up. Guilt? Overwhelm? Tenderness? Don’t rush past them. Question what they mean in your life. Ask yourself if you are ready to let it go.

Let go of one thing that no longer feels aligned. Give yourself space to breathe.

Replace it with something meaningful—something that makes you exhale.

And say to yourself: “I am allowed to feel at home. Even if it’s not perfect. I’m opening myself for others to see me, the real me. One small item at the time”

Your home doesn’t need to be flawless to hold love.

Your space doesn’t need to be styled to invite connection.

You don’t need to be fully healed to be worthy of being seen.

Start where you are, clear what you can. And trust that something beautiful is already making its way in.

How I Can Support You

If your home holds corners you avoid, if your space feels like it’s reflecting an older version of you, or shielding you from being seen, this work is for you.

Through my one-to-one space transformation, we’ll gently uncover what your environment is holding onto and begin shifting it to support the version of you that’s ready to emerge.

You’ll walk away with:

-          A deeper understanding of what your space is mirroring about your emotional world

-          A sense of clarity about what you're holding onto (and why)

-          Personalized, doable steps to start clearing not just the clutter, but the fear, grief, or shame beneath it

-          A lighter, more intentional environment that makes it easier to feel open, grounded, and connected

-          A process you can carry with you into every future home or life transition

You don’t need a flawless space to begin. You just need a willingness to start.

If this speaks to you, I invite you to book a free discovery call, you can contact me on info@zen-interiors.com. For more information you can visit my website www.zen-interiors.com or follow me on Instagram zeninteriors_com. Let’s create a space that makes you feel safe, seen, and deeply at home—in every sense of the word.

By Ivana Nady

From Zen Interiors