Scientists Have Finally Figured Out What Causes ‘Hoarding’

For years, hoarding has been depicted as a spectacle—something to gawk at on television or gasp over in viral videos. The narrative usually centers on cluttered homes, dramatic clean-outs, and the perceived inability of individuals to let go. But behind the chaos and the camera angles lies a far more nuanced reality. Hoarding is not about mess or materialism; it’s about meaning. And only recently have scientists and mental health professionals begun to unravel the emotional, cognitive, and developmental roots that drive this deeply misunderstood behavior.

In 2013, hoarding disorder was formally recognized as a distinct mental health condition in the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5), marking a significant shift in how it is studied and treated. Since then, researchers have uncovered critical insights into how hoarding develops, why it persists, and how it affects people’s lives far beyond what outsiders can see. These findings reveal a pattern that often begins in adolescence, intensifies in response to trauma or life changes, and is reinforced by emotional attachments that are difficult to untangle.

Hoarding Begins Long Before the Clutter Appears

Hoarding is often associated with extreme images—rooms filled to the ceiling with piles of objects, narrow pathways carved through endless clutter, and living spaces rendered unusable. But these visual markers only represent the end stage of something that often begins quietly, years earlier. Research now shows that hoarding behaviors typically emerge during early adolescence, often between the ages of 11 and 15, a period when young people are forming their identities and learning to manage complex emotions. During this time, some children begin to form unusually strong emotional attachments to objects. These attachments are not just sentimental; for many, possessions carry emotional weight, serving as symbols of memory, security, or personal meaning. Something as mundane as a broken toy, a receipt, or a scrap of paper can feel irreplaceable—not because of its material value, but because of what it represents internally.

Many adults who struggle with hoarding later in life recall vivid childhood memories of distress when asked to part with their belongings. In some cases, these experiences were compounded by well-meaning but dismissive parental behavior, such as discarding items without permission or labeling a child’s treasured possessions as “junk.” While intended to encourage tidiness or emotional resilience, these actions often had the opposite effect, leaving lasting impressions of loss, helplessness, or shame. According to mental health professionals who specialize in hoarding, these early experiences can play a formative role, contributing to a lifelong struggle with letting go. The underlying message—conscious or not—is that their emotional experiences tied to objects are invalid, which can deepen attachment and mistrust.

These tendencies don’t always escalate immediately. For some, hoarding behaviors intensify during key transitions in life, such as moving away for college, experiencing personal loss, or entering adulthood. One interviewee linked the onset of his hoarding to losing access to university accounts and the safety net they represented; for him, the disruption triggered a deeper need to hold onto tangible items as a way to maintain a sense of control. Such moments highlight that hoarding is not only about attachment to objects but also about navigating emotional turbulence. Major life changes can exacerbate the internal pull to collect and retain, turning a quiet coping mechanism into a disruptive pattern.

Understanding that hoarding often begins with emotional vulnerability—not laziness or a love of clutter—is crucial in dismantling stigma and enabling early intervention. Recognizing the signs in children and young adults, and responding with empathy rather than force, may prevent these behaviors from escalating into crisis. The more we focus on the emotional and developmental roots of hoarding, the better equipped we’ll be to support those affected—long before the clutter becomes overwhelming.

Why Letting Go Feels Impossible

At the heart of hoarding lies a profound emotional attachment to objects—one that extends far beyond ordinary sentimentality. While most people may treasure a few keepsakes, those who struggle with hoarding often form intense bonds with a much broader and less conventional range of items. Everyday objects like outdated electronics, worn-out clothes, empty containers, or even expired coupons can carry deep emotional significance. For some, these items represent specific memories or emotional states; for others, they symbolize potential—what something could be used for, or a life they once envisioned. Letting go of these items, therefore, is not merely about discarding clutter—it can feel like discarding a piece of themselves.

This strong emotional tether is often misunderstood by others, leading to misguided attempts to “fix” the problem by focusing solely on the mess. But for individuals with hoarding disorder, the issue is not the presence of too much stuff; it’s the perceived meaning behind it. Studies have shown that many individuals with hoarding tendencies struggle with decision-making, perfectionism, and an overwhelming fear of making the wrong choice about what to keep or throw away. This fear, combined with emotional attachment, creates a powerful resistance to parting with possessions—even those that seem objectively useless. It’s not about a lack of willpower or motivation, but about a deeply ingrained belief that these items are essential in ways others may never understand.

In many cases, the attachment is also tied to identity and memory. An object may serve as a stand-in for a lost relationship, a marker of a meaningful moment, or a way to preserve a sense of continuity in an unpredictable world. Research has found that people with hoarding disorder often fear that discarding an item will mean erasing a memory or diminishing the significance of an experience. The anxiety over potential loss—whether of utility, emotional meaning, or personal history—can be so overwhelming that avoidance becomes the default coping mechanism. This emotional calculus makes conventional advice about decluttering not only unhelpful but potentially harmful when it doesn’t address the psychological core of the behavior.

Ultimately, understanding why letting go feels impossible is key to reshaping how we approach hoarding. Rather than framing the issue as a problem of cleanliness or discipline, mental health professionals increasingly advocate for viewing it through the lens of trauma, emotional regulation, and attachment. Only by acknowledging the internal experience behind the external clutter can we begin to offer support that is both compassionate and effective.

Triggers, Trauma, and the Role of Life Events

While hoarding often begins during adolescence, it doesn’t always remain static. For many individuals, certain life events act as powerful triggers that cause hoarding behaviors to escalate or resurface. Significant transitions—such as the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, financial instability, or a major move—can disrupt a person’s sense of safety and identity. In the face of such upheaval, holding onto possessions may become a way to regain control or maintain a sense of continuity. Objects can serve as emotional anchors during times of loss or uncertainty, making the idea of discarding them feel intolerable.

Trauma also plays a notable role. Studies have shown that early experiences of emotional neglect or instability can contribute to the development of hoarding behaviors later in life. In some cases, the act of saving items becomes a form of self-soothing or compensation for unmet emotional needs. The physical accumulation of belongings can create a cocoon-like environment that feels safer than the unpredictable outside world. For those who have endured trauma, especially in formative years, possessions may represent stability, protection, or even identity—things that were not otherwise affirmed by caregivers or circumstances.

Cognitive and neurological factors further complicate the picture. Research has indicated that people with hoarding disorder often exhibit differences in information processing, particularly in areas related to attention, categorization, and decision-making. These challenges can make it especially difficult to evaluate what’s worth keeping versus what can be let go. Combined with emotional attachment, this impaired decision-making leads to prolonged indecision and accumulation. The process of sorting through belongings, which may seem straightforward to others, becomes mentally and emotionally exhausting for those affected—contributing to a cycle of avoidance and further clutter.

It’s also important to recognize that hoarding doesn’t follow a single pattern. While some people begin hoarding gradually and without an identifiable cause, others experience a sudden onset tied to a particular event or stressor. The condition exists on a spectrum, and not all clutter or excessive saving is indicative of a disorder. What sets hoarding disorder apart is the degree to which these behaviors interfere with daily life—impacting one’s ability to cook, sleep, maintain relationships, or even access essential areas of the home. Understanding the diverse pathways into hoarding allows for a more individualized and empathetic approach to treatment and support.

Moving Beyond the Stereotypes—Rethinking Hoarding Through a Compassionate Lens

Mainstream portrayals of hoarding—often sensationalized through reality television and viral social media content—tend to focus on the most extreme, visually shocking cases. These depictions can be both stigmatizing and misleading, reinforcing the idea that hoarding is simply a matter of poor housekeeping or personal failure. In reality, hoarding is a complex psychological condition that exists on a continuum, with many individuals experiencing distressing levels of attachment to possessions long before their homes reach crisis conditions. This misconception not only delays recognition and treatment but also contributes to feelings of shame and isolation among those affected.

To address this, researchers and clinicians are calling for a shift in how we understand and respond to hoarding. One particularly insightful framework—the “struggling to manage” model—suggests that hoarding should be seen not just as a set of behaviors, but as a response to overwhelming life circumstances. Rather than focusing solely on the individual’s cognitive distortions or emotional difficulties, this model considers the broader context: Are they facing health problems? A recent loss? Financial insecurity? Under this view, hoarding becomes a symptom of deeper distress, and the accumulation of items reflects a struggle to stay afloat in the midst of emotional or logistical overload.

This more holistic perspective encourages empathy over judgment and recognizes that meaningful change often requires more than decluttering. Support must be tailored to the individual’s circumstances and emotional landscape. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), particularly when adapted specifically for hoarding, has shown promise in helping individuals address the underlying beliefs and anxieties that fuel their behaviors. But community support is also crucial. Organizations like Clouds End, a UK-based social enterprise focused on hoarding, provide not only practical strategies but also a sense of belonging for people who have long felt misunderstood or pathologized.

By moving away from blame and toward understanding, we open the door to earlier, more effective interventions. This includes helping parents recognize the difference between typical childhood collecting and emotionally driven saving behaviors, as well as offering adults tools to manage attachment before it spirals into dysfunction. It also means acknowledging that the solution is not as simple as clearing out a space—it’s about rebuilding trust, safety, and identity in ways that no object alone can provide.

Toward Early Intervention and Lasting Change

Recognizing hoarding as a mental health condition rather than a moral failing is a critical first step—but lasting change depends on timely, supportive intervention. Because hoarding often begins subtly and escalates over time, early recognition can prevent it from becoming overwhelming or dangerous. This is particularly important in childhood and adolescence, when the emotional foundations of hoarding are often laid. Instead of shaming children for their attachments or forcing them to discard belongings without context, caregivers can play a powerful role by fostering open conversations about emotions, memory, and the meaning behind possessions. When handled with sensitivity, these early interactions can help children build healthier relationships with objects and their own emotional needs.

For adults already facing the burden of hoarding behaviors, support doesn’t have to wait until the situation reaches a crisis point. Mental health professionals trained in hoarding-specific approaches, such as adapted forms of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT-H), can guide individuals through both the practical and emotional challenges of letting go. But therapy is just one piece of the puzzle. Community-based resources—including support groups, educational workshops, and harm reduction services—offer accessible, stigma-free environments for people to seek help at various stages of their journey. Organizations like Clouds End demonstrate how practical strategies, peer support, and advocacy can empower individuals to take steps toward reclaiming their space and autonomy without fear of judgment.

A culture shift is also needed. When society begins to understand hoarding as a coping mechanism rooted in emotional complexity rather than laziness or neglect, we create room for more humane policies and better public resources. This includes ensuring social workers, healthcare providers, and housing authorities receive training on how to approach hoarding with empathy and effectiveness. Public awareness campaigns and educational efforts can help dismantle stereotypes and foster more compassionate conversations, both at the family level and within broader communities.

Ultimately, hoarding is not just about stuff—it’s about the stories, struggles, and unmet needs those items represent. By listening without judgment, offering informed support, and advocating for early intervention, we can help shift the narrative from shame and silence to healing and hope. Whether you’re a parent, a professional, or someone struggling with hoarding yourself, the opportunity to make a difference lies in understanding that the path to change begins not with clearing clutter, but with caring connection.

A Call for Compassion—Rewriting the Narrative Around Hoarding

The true nature of hoarding is far more human—and far less sensational—than popular narratives suggest. It is not defined by overflowing rooms or unsightly piles, but by the quieter, more intimate stories of loss, memory, and emotional overwhelm that those possessions represent. When we take the time to understand what drives someone to hold on—whether it’s fear, trauma, or a longing for stability—we begin to see hoarding not as a spectacle, but as a signal. A signal that someone is struggling to cope, to make sense of change, or to preserve what little feels secure in an unpredictable world.

This shift in perspective matters. When people feel judged or shamed for their living conditions, they are far less likely to seek help. But when they are met with understanding, they often begin to open up—not just about their homes, but about the emotions they’ve buried along the way. Compassion is not a soft response; it’s a strategic one. It creates the safety needed for individuals to explore the roots of their behavior and engage in meaningful change. That change doesn’t happen overnight, and it rarely starts with a dumpster. It starts with listening, validating, and working alongside someone—not against them.

As awareness grows and more research emerges, we have an opportunity to reframe our approach to hoarding from one of crisis response to early support and sustained care. That means equipping families, educators, and communities with the knowledge to spot early signs and respond constructively. It means funding accessible mental health services and community resources that don’t wait until the problem becomes extreme. And it means telling more honest, empathetic stories that reflect the complexity of hoarding and the resilience of those who live with it.

If we truly want to make a difference, we must stop asking, “Why do they keep all this stuff?” and start asking, “What are they holding onto—and why does it matter?” The answers to that question may be messy, emotional, and deeply personal. But they are also the key to unlocking real, lasting change—not just in how we treat hoarding, but in how we treat each other.