The Overthinker’s Guide to Packing (and Peace)

Packing should be simple.

But if you're prone to overthinking, it can feel like solving a puzzle where the stakes are survival—not socks.

I’ve packed for dozens of trips—and still, every time, I feel it: the spike of anxiety, the loop of “what if I forget something?”, the pressure to predict a future I haven’t lived yet.

This time it’s a festival. Glitter. Headlamps. Outfits strewn across the floor.

But somehow, I’m not just packing clothes. I’m packing years of nervous energy, old perfectionism, and the fear of getting it wrong.

Packing stresses me out because it asks me to decide in advance how I’ll feel later. And that goes against how I usually dress: by mood, by instinct, by energy. Packing flattens all of that. So I delay—until the anxiety spikes just high enough to push me into motion.

What follows is a mental cyclone: decision fatigue, perfectionism, time pressure. Clutter everywhere. Too many tabs open in my brain.

I can’t think straight. Small things feel huge. I just want the stress to go away—but I end up gripping it tighter, thinking if I can just solve it better, I’ll feel calm.

Anxiety.

Anyone else?

Practical Tips to Soothe Packing Anxiety

This isn’t just about packing. But packing is where it flared up again.

I’m 29, and I’ve worked with my anxiety enough to stop being afraid of it. When it comes to packing, these are the tools that help:

• Categorized lists (Clothes, Toiletries, Tech, Essentials, Extras)
• Starting early—no last-minute chaos
• Timed chunks (like Pomodoro: 25 minutes pack, 5 minutes rest)
• Creating piles: “To Pack,” “Maybe,” and “Not This Time”

But the real game-changer?

Visualizing the place I’m going. I open Google Street View. Scroll through photos of the venue. Picture the light, the sounds, the vibe. It grounds me.

Still, all these clever tricks are just surface-level. Underneath, there’s something deeper:

A need to get it right.

What I really need?

Patience. Trust.

Because these decisions—what to wear, what to bring—they feel bigger than they are. I zoom in too far. I get lost in the details. And when that happens, I remember a meditation teaching:

Let your thoughts drift like clouds across the sky. Notice them, light and fluffy, stormy and dark, but remember: the blue sky is always there. Breathe in, breathe out, and let it return.

What I’m reaching for isn’t just efficiency. It’s emotional ease. A deeper calm. Something heart-based, not just logistical.

How to Emotionally Reframe Packing Anxiety

Anxiety thrives on perfectionism. So now I ask myself:

What’s the worst that could happen if I forget something?

Almost always, the answer is: something small. Something fixable.

So I speak gently to myself:

“I can adapt. I’ve done this before.”

Today, while packing, a memory surfaced: me, wandering festival grounds, feeling a little off, a little out of place. I love festivals now, but there was a time when the anticipation overwhelmed me. Maybe I went with the wrong people. Or maybe it was just the fear of the unknown—and the decision fatigue that came with it.

So I journaled. I wanted to get to the root.

What was upsetting me?

It wasn’t anything dramatic—just a strong desire to feel prepared. To meet high expectations. But this time? Relief. Because I’m going with people I feel aligned with. As I wrote, I felt my breath deepen. My shoulders soften. The festival is small, artistic, close to woods and water. It’s music I love.

Oh.

A laugh escaped.

I was fine.

I was absolutely fine.

The anxiety wasn’t about now. It was a memory. A pattern. A time when I had to brace. But that’s not today.

And maybe this final step—anchoring into the present—should have been the first all along.

Yes, packing still annoys me. Yes, decision fatigue still visits. But I can breathe. I can picture the space. My people. My rhythm. And I settle.

It’s okay. I can manage.

I want to go. I’ll learn. And next time, it might feel even easier.

Why Minimalist Packing Reduces Anxiety

I love playing with clothes, color, texture, mood. Getting dressed is creative. But packing shrinks that playground. Fewer choices. Less spontaneity.

And maybe… that’s not a bad thing.

Too much choice can be overwhelming. Research shows that minimalism soothes the mind. Even in education: give a child three options, not twelve. Autonomy stays intact. Overload is avoided.

The same applies to us.

I once read that for neurodivergent folks, a capsule wardrobe—two or three ready-to-go outfits—can help bypass decision freeze. When choice feels impossible, simplicity becomes a lifeline.

Two years ago, I stayed in a Buddhist monastery where we wore the same thing every day: white cotton. It was freeing.

Of course, self-expression matters to me. I wouldn’t want to dress the same every day. But when I travel, when I feel stretched thin, maybe less really is more.

This year, I’m packing with that in mind.

Letting Go of Shame Around Packing Anxiety

This touches an old, familiar shame. I can’t count how many times I’ve tried to pack and had to pause—go for a walk, sing softly, hum until I returned to myself.

I used to wonder: Is it like this for others?

Now I know: maybe not like this. But everyone has something. For some, it’s louder. For others, it’s hidden. Anxiety just wears different clothes.

All our strengths have shadows. My flexibility, for example, is a gift. I might seem like a nervous mess pre-trip—but once I’m out the door, backpack on, something inside lifts. I’m great in the moment. Great with the unexpected.

But preparation? Logical, linear, meticulous prep? That’s where I trip.

I’m sharing this because I want to normalize it. Life is hard sometimes. We’re overstimulated. Under-supported. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.

Really.

And how beautiful is it, the way we try to soothe ourselves? Me, walking it off. Humming. Singing—to turn excess energy into sound instead of spiraling. That’s not dysfunction. That’s intelligence. Instinct. Adaptation.

Maybe this isn’t a “conflict” at all. Maybe it only feels like one because I believed I should pack faster, calmer, more logically—without detours, without breakdowns, without needing to leave the room to come back whole.

So here’s the reminder, for both of us: patience. Trust.

This noisy, hyperproductive world was never designed for our mental health. But we don’t owe it our imitation. Since I started slowing down—and honoring the rhythm of my own body—I’ve become a more effective version of myself than ever. Doing less. Stressing less. And somehow, accomplishing more.

Breathing in, breathing out. Still underrated.

It takes practice. It took me years. But it’s worth it.

And one last touch: music. Something calm and beautiful. Something that speaks to the part of you that already knows—everything’s okay.

Today, my companion was Ludovico Einaudi:

My bag is packed now. I feel good. Confident. It wasn’t a fight this time. And I’m committed to even more kindness next time. More acceptance. Less shame.

Nervous System Tips for Stress-Free Travel

So if you find yourself here too—suitcase open, nerves rising—maybe try this before you pack:

• Breathe low and slow – try three rounds of box breathing (inhale 4, hold 4, exhale 4, hold 4)
• Do a 3-2-1 grounding:
  • 3 things you see
  • 2 things you hear
  • 1 thing you feel

These simple steps can shift you out of fight-or-flight and back into presence.

And if you’re packing for a transition—a goodbye, a beginning, a threshold—let yourself feel it.

Packing doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s not a test. It’s a gesture of readiness.

And that, all by itself, is an act of courage.

How do you experience packing? Calm? Spinning? Avoidant? Something else?

I’d love to hear what it stirs in you.