Enough with the food journey. Let’s talk about the Haus.
Spring has sprung here in the mid-south and that usually brings a slew of additional items for the Frau’s never ending to-do list. I need to come clean about the fact that the to-do list to which I am referring is not a constantly evolving, daily or weekly, ‘life-maintenance’ to-do list like most people have. I am referring to the to-do list containing all of the stuff I NEVER DO. The projects, the trash-to-treasure stuff cluttering the basement and my spare room, the shelves to hang on the wall, the curtain rods leaning against the window sill, the unplanted bulbs in the freezer…. THAT stuff. See, I am a ‘junkie’ which means I drag stuff home from tag sales, junk store, and the side of the road because I think ‘ I can make something sooooo cool with this useless piece of crap.’ And given the time, skills, and resources, I probably could. But I don’t, so it all sits there, in my way of doing anything productive/creative/enjoyable at all.
So, I go about the business of deciding where to start. This is problematic for a number of reasons. I’d like to blame it all on a lack of time but let’s face it…this has been a lifelong struggle for me. Even when I have more time, I can’t decide where to start. I choose activity A. But while I gather things mentally for activity A I think “wait…I can’t do this because activity B should be done first so it is out of my way and then I can move back to activity A.” And so on, and so on, and so on. Like some Faberge commercial from hell, I find myself in this self –perpetuating, replicating spiral where I end up right back where I started. My mind tries to seek out the deepest, darkest corner of my house which seems like a good place to start and work my way out. I feel the need to find that farthest corner, reach my hand in, grab the end and pull it inside out. The layout of my house even provides a visual image of this. It looks like a DNA spiral that starts in the upstairs closet at the back of my spare room, spirals its way down two stories of house and into the deepest darkest corner of the basement, which has rooms and closets of its own. Somewhere along this strand, there is a fold in the time-space continuum and you always wind up back where you started. You could play the Kevin Bacon game and find far fewer than six degrees of separation between all of these projects. There is no way out.
A dear friend of mine once shed some light on this for me. At the time I considered myself to just be a slob who couldn’t organize herself well. But this friend suggested that I was, in fact, not a slob but a perfectionist. As two days worth of dirty dishes, two weeks’ worth of laundry, and two months worth of dust bunnies passed before my eyes, I was intrigued. Being a perfectionist is certainly more appealing than a slob right? She said that I was paralyzed to do these things because I felt like I couldn’t do them until I did them ‘just right’, wholly, completely, and…well…perfectly. And she was right. I have a hard time just straightening a closet for a few minutes; I need to empty it first. I usually can’t just cook a nice dinner for four people; I have to ‘power-cook’ multiple meals for the table and the freezer like I am cooking for a bunch of farmhands. I know the old adage “you can eat an elephant one bite at a time” but I routinely kill my elephant and leave the remains to rot. My dear, supportive husband just looks at me with that weary note of resignation on his face and says “you need help.”
He’s right…but who can help me? I am unaware of any 12 stepper, ‘messie’ meetings going on in my neighborhood. With this sort of pathology, I am really the only one who can help me. But I need some info, some support, some inspiration, and some accountability. So how about it fellow Fraus…anyone have experience in this area that you’d like to share? Any recovering clutter addicts/perfectionists out there? Bring it.
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6 comments:
First of all, I find your food journey inspiring. I don't think I can do it--now, if ever--but I like to read what you're doing and IMAGINE that someday, I, too, will refuse to eat food that has "cancer" listed as the first ingredient. There's no question it's a better way to live, and eat, I'm just so.damned.lazy. EXCEPT, it seems, when it comes to organizing and throwing shit out. I'm very, very good at that. Maybe you can do my grocery shopping and I can clean out your closets? Think about it.
Funny thing is, I am also good at encouraging people to get rid of their crap. But their crap is crap and my crap is stuff (apologies to Carlin). There is so much POTENTIAL there. My house is a gold mine of project 'pieces' and I do mean 'mine' because you would need a backhoe to find it all.
And when I can be left alone with no time constraints, I love to grocery shop. So watch what you wish for or you might find yourself holding a boarding pass to St. Louis, while explaining to Dave and the kids why there's someone singing in the kitchen, making enough food to feed a busload.
Oh me, oh my...and where to begin...hmmm. Your description in the physical sense is a scary desciption of my mental state most of the time. I say "most", but more honestly, probably all of the time and for many of the same exact reasons. I need to find my peace (a.k.a. my idea of perfection) with whatever challenge I face by my own choosing, probably nothing less than an OCD binge where the desire to control is so great that the conducive environment seems forever out of reach.
I know the usual advice, "start with something small and manageable"..."you will feel the immediate satisfaction of a task accomplished and feel more inspired to complete more..." Really? Not me! To start with the "simple" is for me...well, so much more complicated. The visual double helix reference is genius, and I can definitely identify with that. I would respond to that in this way: Go to that upstairs closet start point, or basement endpoint, and make it yours. Your space, even if it is nothing more than one shelf in a closet reached only by balancing on a tote that is precariously set on a chair you thought you had sold at a yard sale last summer. Clear it with less regard to what you are taking off of it, but more attention on the best purpose for this shelf now, at this moment. A good spot for something you can't ever imagine needing perhaps, but can't technically part with, or a safe spot to keep old bank statements. Whatever, it's your shelf and you are in complete control. Don't feel compelled to replace clutter on the shelf in a neater way. If the purpose for this shelf involves you on a scavenger hunt through the house, then so be it! As far as the rest of the stuff, don't sweat it. When the best shelf or box or tote presents itself to those items you will be back to collect them (remind them of this before you leave the room, they will worry less and so will you).
Now, the fun part...how to not look at the rest of the closet as it throws things at you and taunts you with jeers as you utter colorful metaphors under your breath, or scream at the top of your lungs, depending on how hard you smashed your knuckle between the box and the door jamb while attempting to exit the closet. Deep breaths help some people, sometimes. I fall back on my personal mental dysfunction. The inner monologue that is constantly at chat serves as a good distraction sometimes, much like tuning into a conversation already in progress. My guess is that you are far more stable. Try getting a book on audio, something you enjoy. This could be reserved for "your cleaning/organization time"...a treat for showing up, only listen to it during this time. I have employed this tactic while cleaning a garage that I had managed to fill to the hilt with my many awesome unfinished project ideas. It did bring me some amount of distraction that would of otherwise prevented me from doing anything about it but stewing (which it turns out I am very good at).
Don't...I repeat...Don't...stop grabbing bits of this or that. When something speaks to you...listen. When the old wooden window frame leaning against your neighbors trash can hails you driving by...pick it up. This is your inspiration speaking. We love how it feels to allow our minds to ponder the cool ways to repurpose a rescued find, so don't rebuke yourself now. These moments often make the rest of life's unpleasant chores bearable. The trick will be to find your sweet spot between the collecting and organizing. It can be done, maybe not without a little chardonnay, but I am confident you will find your own success!
Oh Coach Angie...this makes me so sad that when you lived here we never got to hang out. My inner nerd thanks you for noting my DNA reference. And as a Richardson (even if only by marriage) I knew I could count on you to tell me it was ok to keep collecting junk. Funny thing is, one of the items in the basement 'endpoint' is an old, red, window frame with two panes broken that I wanted to fix and use as a 'frame' for black & white photos. Please start your own blog so I can read it everyday. I think I can...I think I can...I think I can...
...yes...I also regret the hectic pace I managed while living in SI...albeit an interesting adventure...ahhhh, would-a, could-a, should-a...I appreciate your whit and your brain that also tweaks my inner geekness, though more outer than inner recently I've found...
...so if you are ever in SC...I know, so far away...we will definitely need to hang out...Until the cosmos see it fitting to align themselves in such a way to allow this...I will continue to look forward to your posts, which I very much enjoy.
...and the little engine didn't really get all the way there on his own steam, did he? I'd be willing to bet he had help...even if only just the thought of another engine that made it up that same blasted hill. You inspire me! Thank you...perhaps I can...perhaps I can...perhaps...
Mother dearest.. If you were ever to rid yourself (and you're closets) of your slovenly artistic ways, what would this world come to?
I find that I may be following in your footsteps, for I have a pile of old cds that I once planned to use for some sort of project, a box of acrylic paints I never touch, too many spools of yarn, and an entire box of unused fabric scraps that all await some sort of use.
Miss you.
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