There used to be a commercial with the slogan "Life is messy; clean it up." At the time, it didn't really register on my radar that life is messy.
Once when I was in my mid-20s, I told a friend about one of my siblings who was trying to sort out his latest mess. Smack in the middle of my tale I had an oh-my-gosh realization: my family bore no resemblance to the Cleavers! It's not clear why I ever thought we were like the Beaver's family, because my father learned paternal discipline methodology from his immigrant father. His home government style was more dictatorship than Socratic, and when we children screwed up, we knew the rod would not be spared. Yet somewhere in my brain cells I had this sense that situations which upend families - teenage rebellion, divorce, legal wrangles, serious illness - happened in other people's families. It was jarring to suddenly see my family from an outsider's perspective; we weren't traveling on a neat and orderly life path.
Seems I am always trying to organize life's messiness. Yesterday, for the second time this year, I attacked my closet. I cannot bring myself to spend money on a fancy organizer system because the easiest way to keep organized is to have less. Guilt about all the unworn or seldom-worn or just-in-case-I-lose-25-pounds-and-can-wear-again items add to both my closet and mental clutter, but putting that closet in order can make me feel my world is in order. I culled a few more items for the charity bag, and stowed the rest on skinny hangars or in dollar store baskets and lidded boxes. Clean. Organized. For now.
Many studies verify that clutter contributes to stress. I know it does for me, and yet that doesn't seem to stop our paper clutter cycle. Despite doing much of my reading, writing, personal business, and professional work electronically, the paper piles still sprout like weeds near favorite chairs, on the kitchen counter, and around this computer on the dining table. For several years I've been trying to get most of our necessary papers into e-form. The result is flash drives, hard drives, and clouds full of e-files and e-paper. E-clutter.
Procrastination is a major producer of mental messiness. I deal with avoiding things I need to do (which usually involves handling paper) by cleaning something, as if shining faucets and sparkling mirrors will have some impact on papers waiting to be graded. I often start some cleaning project, walk into a different room for some reason and start something else, and maybe even get distracted from that and begin a third activity, all the while mulling over what I really should be doing. Before I know it, hours have passed and I have three unfinished cleaning projects - with all their in-process messes, and papers that still need grading or bills that still need paying. What began as chaos just in my head has expanded into environmental mayhem. I can't be the only person on the planet who re-enacts this scene regularly, but I'm unaware of any 12-step programs for procrastination addicts.
Seems I am always trying to organize life's messiness. Yesterday, for the second time this year, I attacked my closet. I cannot bring myself to spend money on a fancy organizer system because the easiest way to keep organized is to have less. Guilt about all the unworn or seldom-worn or just-in-case-I-lose-25-pounds-and-can-wear-again items add to both my closet and mental clutter, but putting that closet in order can make me feel my world is in order. I culled a few more items for the charity bag, and stowed the rest on skinny hangars or in dollar store baskets and lidded boxes. Clean. Organized. For now.
Many studies verify that clutter contributes to stress. I know it does for me, and yet that doesn't seem to stop our paper clutter cycle. Despite doing much of my reading, writing, personal business, and professional work electronically, the paper piles still sprout like weeds near favorite chairs, on the kitchen counter, and around this computer on the dining table. For several years I've been trying to get most of our necessary papers into e-form. The result is flash drives, hard drives, and clouds full of e-files and e-paper. E-clutter.
Procrastination is a major producer of mental messiness. I deal with avoiding things I need to do (which usually involves handling paper) by cleaning something, as if shining faucets and sparkling mirrors will have some impact on papers waiting to be graded. I often start some cleaning project, walk into a different room for some reason and start something else, and maybe even get distracted from that and begin a third activity, all the while mulling over what I really should be doing. Before I know it, hours have passed and I have three unfinished cleaning projects - with all their in-process messes, and papers that still need grading or bills that still need paying. What began as chaos just in my head has expanded into environmental mayhem. I can't be the only person on the planet who re-enacts this scene regularly, but I'm unaware of any 12-step programs for procrastination addicts.
The April issue of Martha Stewart Living (part of my mom's regular contributions to our paper piles) features pictures of author Bea Johnson (Zero Waste Home) in her knickknack-free 1400-square-foot home where she and her husband are raising two sons. According to the article, she has mastered home mess and clutter to the degree her entire family generates only "two handfuls of trash each year." I have to admit I am more than impressed. I'm buying her book because the closest I'll get to that kind of home zen is reading about it.
Meanwhile, family members and friends are dealing with all manner of life-altering situations, some of which may cause detours in my own life's journey. I'm looking at my home full of knickknacks, paper piles, and corners that need cleaning. I have papers to grade, a checkbook to balance, recipes to organize, bills to pay. At this point I need a slogan I can live by: Life is messy. Get over it.
Meanwhile, family members and friends are dealing with all manner of life-altering situations, some of which may cause detours in my own life's journey. I'm looking at my home full of knickknacks, paper piles, and corners that need cleaning. I have papers to grade, a checkbook to balance, recipes to organize, bills to pay. At this point I need a slogan I can live by: Life is messy. Get over it.