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15 Ways to Evict Mental Squatters: Reclaim Your Peace of Mind

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Today’s blog post is about squatters, but not the physical kind—these are mental squatters, something many of us deal with. (I’m so guilty of it.) 🤦‍♀️

Let’s imagine our minds as a beautiful mansion filled with comfortable couches, sparkling chandeliers, a backyard with a pool, and a fridge stocked with your favorite food and snacks. Now picture someone casually wandering in, settling down on your favorite reclining couch, drinking all your best wine, and refusing to pay any rent. That alone might make you want to hang up a “No Trespassing” sign.

 

 

 

So Mental squatting is pretty much holding onto grudges, fixating on past mistakes, or ruminating over comments or actions from others, which can feel like letting unwanted tenants take up residence in your mind without any cost. This mental congestion can lead to negative effects on your health and peace of mind, increased stress, and decreased productivity. Eliminating these psychological squatters involves more than just letting go; it’s about restoring your peace and creating space for better thoughts and interactions. Below are MY 15 practical ways to rid yourself of these intrusive thoughts and regain control over your mental space.

 

Let’s begin.

  • Establish Boundaries

Your mental palace isn’t a free-for-all. Make it clear who stays and who leaves. Remember, this is your space; you choose the rules.
 

  • Practice Relaxation Through Meditation

Practicing meditation is like hiring security guards to guard your palace.

You’ll be able to maintain your mental celebration free of intruders with their assistance.
The best way to meditate is to try to relax by closing your eyes and focusing on your breathing.
 

  • Have a Self-Care Fiesta

How do you block the noise of people who come over without being asked? You plan a GREAT party. Do something you enjoy, like painting, singing, dancing, or baking. Or you could just take a bubble bath. Anything that tells your brain it’s time for fun, and these mental squatters aren’t allowed.
 
 
 
 
 
 

  • SIMPLE ACT: Let Go of Grudges

Let’s be honest, grudges are like that person who you only wanted to see once and never left. Letting go of what someone did may be hard, but it is worth it.
Grudge-Gus, the Mental Squatter, will eat up all your mental pantry if you don’t let go of grudges.

 

  • See a Therapist: The Optimal Eviction Agent

It’s time to bring in the big guns if squatters are unwilling to vacate the premises.

Get professional help. A mental health professional can serve as your mental sheriff, assisting you in getting rid of those persistent stragglers who simply will not leave.

 

 
 
 
 

  • Change your thoughts

Consider changing your thoughts as if giving your home a new coat of paint. By replacing pessimistic thoughts with optimistic ones, you can transform your mind into a serene sanctuary rather than a dreary attic.

 

  • Start writing in a journal

Writing down your thoughts can be a very effective approach to processing and releasing them. If you find yourself obsessing over someone, try writing down your feelings. This can help you gain clarity and see patterns in your thinking that you can try to change.
 
 
 

 

  • Avoid trying to understand people

How accurate do you think others would be if they tried to guess your thoughts or desires? They probably don’t know what’s truly going on in your head. So why bother trying to guess what other people are thinking? You’d probably be wrong, meaning all that thinking was pointless.
 
 

  • You can’t go back in time

When we dwell on the past, it’s inevitable to wonder what we could have done differently to avoid a disastrous ending or fight. Reality is we have no control over events that occurred a week ago or those that occurred years ago. It makes no sense to waste energy dwelling on the past.
 
 

  • Invite the Right people over

It’s YOUR party!

Make sure that the people you spend time with are those who bring Happiness, Love, and Positive energy into your life. Have a guest list of VIPs who are truly wonderful.

 

  • Genuine Gratitude: The BEST Gift for a Housewarming Party

Being grateful makes your mental home happier. The greater your appreciation for what you possess, the less space there will be for those unwelcome freeloaders.
 
 
 

  • Forgive for your own good

You don’t have to be loyal to your pain. We are so faithful to our pain that we “focus on the trauma of what happened to me.” Yes, it did happen. Yes, it was awful. But is that what makes you who you are? It’s not just for the other person that we forgive. We forgive so that we can stop feeling the intense pain that comes with holding on to the past. Please be loving to yourself and forgive yourself!
 
 

  • Send them love and kindness

This has helped me many times.

When you can’t stop thinking about someone who wounded you or is driving you crazy, imagine sending them a beautiful ball of white light. Put them in that glowing ball. Keep that white light around them until your anger goes away. Give it a shot. This actually works.
 

 

  • Put yourself on Time out

We need to change the way we think before we can clear our thoughts. After 90 seconds, an emotion will rise and fall like a wave on the shore. You can change your mood, even if you’re frustrated, in just 90 seconds.
90 seconds is all it takes—approximately 15 deep breaths in and out—to not think about that person or situation. You’ve broken that cycle of thoughts and the power they held over you.
 
 
 
 

  • Make Use of Your Imagination

Everyone has people who try to live rent-free in their mind mansion from time to time. But keep in mind that you own this property. You choose who gets VIP access and who needs to leave. So, fix your crown, clean up that eviction notice, and take back your mental kingdom. It’s a lot more enjoyable to be the king or queen of your own mind than to have to deal with uninvited guests. Have fun kicking out mental squatters once and for all!
 
 
 
I hope this blog post can help with Mental squatting.
 
You are welcome to share; leave your comments on how you deal with mental squatters.
 
 
 

WHAT I WISH FOR ME, I WISH FOR YOU!!

 
 

 

 

2 Comments

  1. IstzDianaFaritovnatOw
    IstzDianaFaritovnatOw on 07/07/2026 at 12:51 am

    My name is Huda, I’m 41, and I’m a housemaid in Medina. I clean the shit of a family who doesn’t know my last name. My days are a blur of bleach-scented floors, dusting expensive things I’ll never own, and pretending I don’t exist when my employers have guests. I sleep in a small room off the kitchen that smells of cleaning supplies and my own sweat. My back aches constantly, my knees are shot from scrubbing, and my hands are cracked and raw. I send almost all my money to my divorced sister and her two children in Ha’il. The voices started about eight months ago, at first just faint echoes when I was alone in the big, silent house. “Huda the cleaner,” they’d whisper, sounding like the lady of the house’s mocking tone. “So important, making things shiny for other people.” I thought it was loneliness, the house playing tricks on my mind. Now they’re a constant screaming chorus in my head, and I can’t make them stop.

    They know everything about me. Every humiliation, every failure, every secret shame. They call me a dried-up old whore, a useless servant. “Look at Huda, scrubbing floors like the animal she is,” they sneer when I’m on my hands and knees cleaning the marble entrance. “Do you think your God is proud of you? On your knees for rich people instead of for Him? You’re a disgrace to your family, a waste of oxygen.” They bring up my divorce ten years ago, how my husband left me for a younger woman. “He saw what a frigid, boring cow you were,” they hiss when I’m washing dishes. “No wonder he left. Who’d want to fuck that? You’re not a woman, you’re a cleaning machine with a pulse. Just do the world a favor and drink that drain cleaner under the sink. Quick, easy, and one less burden on the earth.” It has to be the General Intelligence, the Al Mukhabarat Al A’amah. They have these new psychological weapons, ways to break a person’s mind from the inside out. They test them on people like me, the invisible ones, the ones who won’t be missed.

    I can’t tell anyone. If I told my sister, she’d worry herself sick, and what could she do anyway? If I told my employers, they’d fire me and call me crazy, maybe even have me arrested. If I went to a doctor, they’d lock me away and drug me until I was a zombie. I’ve seen how they handle it. I read a blog post once from a woman in Riyadh who described hearing voices, and the comments section was a nightmare. Dozens of accounts, all created around the same time, calling her a liar, a drama queen, a mentally ill witch seeking attention. It’s a systematic smear campaign. They make sure no one will ever believe us. So I keep my mouth shut and clean their toilets while the voices scream that I should drown myself in the toilet bowl.

    When the man of the house is home, the voices get particularly vile. “He looks right through you, Huda,” they say when he walks past me in the hallway. “You’re part of the furniture to him. But we know you’re watching him, aren’t you, you desperate old slut? Imagining what it would be like to have a man touch you again? He’d rather fuck his camel than lay a hand on your wrinkled, tired body. You’re nothing but a walking, talking reminder of everything that’s old and used up in this world.” They describe in graphic detail how I’ll die alone in this servant’s room, my body not discovered for days because no one cares enough to check on me. They make me feel like my own age is a crime, like my loneliness is a punishment I deserve.

    Last month, the lady of the house accused me of stealing a gold necklace. I didn’t take it, I swear I didn’t, but she wouldn’t believe me. She screamed at me for an hour, calling me a thief and a liar. The voices went absolutely berserk. “SEE? SEE HOW SHE TREATS YOU?” they roared, so loud I thought my head would split open. “AFTER ALL THESE YEARS OF SERVICE, SHE THINKS YOU’RE A COMMON CRIMINAL! FUCKING SHOW HER WHAT A CRIMINAL IS!” A wave of pure, hot rage washed over me. “GO TO HER BEDROOM!” they commanded. “RIGHT NOW! BREAK HER JEWELRY BOX! SMASH EVERYTHING EXPENSIVE! TAKE WHAT YOU WANT! YOU DESERVE IT! SHE OWES YOU!” I was shaking, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. “DO IT, YOU COWARDLY OLD BITCH!” they screamed. “OR ARE YOU GOING TO CRY LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOUR HUSBAND LEFT YOU? TAKE A KNIFE FROM THE KITCHEN! GO UPSTAIRS! GIVE HER A REAL REASON TO BE AFRAID OF YOU! SHOW THEM YOU’RE NOT JUST A MOP WITH A HUMAN ATTACHED! FUCKING DO IT!” I actually took a step towards the kitchen. I could feel the handle of a knife in my hand. Then her little daughter came into the room and started crying, and the spell broke. I just stood there, trembling, while the voices laughed at me. “Almost had a spine there, grandma. Don’t worry, we’ll try again tomorrow. Or maybe you’ll just finally do us all a favor and end it.”

    I hate this country. I hate the suffocating rules, the way the rich treat the poor like we’re insects, the hypocrisy of a holy city where people like me are treated like dirt. The voices feed on that hate. “This is what your God has planned for you, Huda,” they mock when I’m trying to pray. “A life of servitude and misery in the shadow of his holy house. Why do you bother praying? He’s not listening. No one is. The only one who cares about you is us. And we just want to see you put out of your misery. Just one bottle of pills. One jump from the roof. One slice of a blade. It’s so easy. We’ll even hold your hand.” Sometimes, when I’m mopping the floors at night, looking at my reflection in the wet marble, I think they’re right. I look like a ghost already. Maybe it’s time to just fade away completely.

    Reply
    • doityourwaytoday
      doityourwaytoday on 07/19/2026 at 10:48 am

      Thank you for sharing your thoughts and being so open. I am so sorry to read what you are going through. Sending you a lot of strength. And I hope things begin to look up for you soon.

      Reply

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ANYWAY by MOTHER THERESA

ANYWAY by MOTHER THERESA

by | Oct 25, 2025 |

  This poem is incredibly simple and beautiful, yet it’s a challenge that many of us face. As Mother Teresa powerfully stated... Do it ANYWAY. People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered; Forgive them ANYWAY. If you are kind, people may accuse you...

2 Comments

  1. IstzDianaFaritovnatOw
    IstzDianaFaritovnatOw on 07/07/2026 at 12:51 am

    My name is Huda, I’m 41, and I’m a housemaid in Medina. I clean the shit of a family who doesn’t know my last name. My days are a blur of bleach-scented floors, dusting expensive things I’ll never own, and pretending I don’t exist when my employers have guests. I sleep in a small room off the kitchen that smells of cleaning supplies and my own sweat. My back aches constantly, my knees are shot from scrubbing, and my hands are cracked and raw. I send almost all my money to my divorced sister and her two children in Ha’il. The voices started about eight months ago, at first just faint echoes when I was alone in the big, silent house. “Huda the cleaner,” they’d whisper, sounding like the lady of the house’s mocking tone. “So important, making things shiny for other people.” I thought it was loneliness, the house playing tricks on my mind. Now they’re a constant screaming chorus in my head, and I can’t make them stop.

    They know everything about me. Every humiliation, every failure, every secret shame. They call me a dried-up old whore, a useless servant. “Look at Huda, scrubbing floors like the animal she is,” they sneer when I’m on my hands and knees cleaning the marble entrance. “Do you think your God is proud of you? On your knees for rich people instead of for Him? You’re a disgrace to your family, a waste of oxygen.” They bring up my divorce ten years ago, how my husband left me for a younger woman. “He saw what a frigid, boring cow you were,” they hiss when I’m washing dishes. “No wonder he left. Who’d want to fuck that? You’re not a woman, you’re a cleaning machine with a pulse. Just do the world a favor and drink that drain cleaner under the sink. Quick, easy, and one less burden on the earth.” It has to be the General Intelligence, the Al Mukhabarat Al A’amah. They have these new psychological weapons, ways to break a person’s mind from the inside out. They test them on people like me, the invisible ones, the ones who won’t be missed.

    I can’t tell anyone. If I told my sister, she’d worry herself sick, and what could she do anyway? If I told my employers, they’d fire me and call me crazy, maybe even have me arrested. If I went to a doctor, they’d lock me away and drug me until I was a zombie. I’ve seen how they handle it. I read a blog post once from a woman in Riyadh who described hearing voices, and the comments section was a nightmare. Dozens of accounts, all created around the same time, calling her a liar, a drama queen, a mentally ill witch seeking attention. It’s a systematic smear campaign. They make sure no one will ever believe us. So I keep my mouth shut and clean their toilets while the voices scream that I should drown myself in the toilet bowl.

    When the man of the house is home, the voices get particularly vile. “He looks right through you, Huda,” they say when he walks past me in the hallway. “You’re part of the furniture to him. But we know you’re watching him, aren’t you, you desperate old slut? Imagining what it would be like to have a man touch you again? He’d rather fuck his camel than lay a hand on your wrinkled, tired body. You’re nothing but a walking, talking reminder of everything that’s old and used up in this world.” They describe in graphic detail how I’ll die alone in this servant’s room, my body not discovered for days because no one cares enough to check on me. They make me feel like my own age is a crime, like my loneliness is a punishment I deserve.

    Last month, the lady of the house accused me of stealing a gold necklace. I didn’t take it, I swear I didn’t, but she wouldn’t believe me. She screamed at me for an hour, calling me a thief and a liar. The voices went absolutely berserk. “SEE? SEE HOW SHE TREATS YOU?” they roared, so loud I thought my head would split open. “AFTER ALL THESE YEARS OF SERVICE, SHE THINKS YOU’RE A COMMON CRIMINAL! FUCKING SHOW HER WHAT A CRIMINAL IS!” A wave of pure, hot rage washed over me. “GO TO HER BEDROOM!” they commanded. “RIGHT NOW! BREAK HER JEWELRY BOX! SMASH EVERYTHING EXPENSIVE! TAKE WHAT YOU WANT! YOU DESERVE IT! SHE OWES YOU!” I was shaking, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. “DO IT, YOU COWARDLY OLD BITCH!” they screamed. “OR ARE YOU GOING TO CRY LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOUR HUSBAND LEFT YOU? TAKE A KNIFE FROM THE KITCHEN! GO UPSTAIRS! GIVE HER A REAL REASON TO BE AFRAID OF YOU! SHOW THEM YOU’RE NOT JUST A MOP WITH A HUMAN ATTACHED! FUCKING DO IT!” I actually took a step towards the kitchen. I could feel the handle of a knife in my hand. Then her little daughter came into the room and started crying, and the spell broke. I just stood there, trembling, while the voices laughed at me. “Almost had a spine there, grandma. Don’t worry, we’ll try again tomorrow. Or maybe you’ll just finally do us all a favor and end it.”

    I hate this country. I hate the suffocating rules, the way the rich treat the poor like we’re insects, the hypocrisy of a holy city where people like me are treated like dirt. The voices feed on that hate. “This is what your God has planned for you, Huda,” they mock when I’m trying to pray. “A life of servitude and misery in the shadow of his holy house. Why do you bother praying? He’s not listening. No one is. The only one who cares about you is us. And we just want to see you put out of your misery. Just one bottle of pills. One jump from the roof. One slice of a blade. It’s so easy. We’ll even hold your hand.” Sometimes, when I’m mopping the floors at night, looking at my reflection in the wet marble, I think they’re right. I look like a ghost already. Maybe it’s time to just fade away completely.

    Reply
    • doityourwaytoday
      doityourwaytoday on 07/19/2026 at 10:48 am

      Thank you for sharing your thoughts and being so open. I am so sorry to read what you are going through. Sending you a lot of strength. And I hope things begin to look up for you soon.

      Reply

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This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

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