I am semi-organized. And that description of myself is semi-accurate. Yes, I can find the things I use regularly, the clothing I wear often. I almost never misplace my keys or my wallet. Yet underneath the piles of things that I use often is a different kind of darkness, a monster in my closet that I keep hidden away. The monster of disorganization and disaster.
To be more accurate, my preferred cleaning method is to shove things into the closet. After all, out of sight out of mind. And honestly, I have enough anxiety in my life without worrying about which shelf I put my undershirts on or whether my suits are hanging up next to my dress shirts. Yet like any monster, it waits for its moment to sneak out of the shadows and attack.
I will open my closet to find something I don’t use regularly (most recently Christmas sweaters) and am confounded by the monster I have created. A Frankenstein-esque combination of things shoved out of the way in past months peers out at me from the shadows and my anxiety quickly joins in the chaos as it whispers, what the fuck is wrong with me that I let it get that bad. And the more I think about it the more I think, “I’ll just wait until tomorrow to start tackling that mess, tomorrow I should have time.”
Yet the depression then sneaks in telling me what is the point, it is not like anyone will love me more if I clean this mess up and you don’t really have the energy to tackle that mess anyway so maybe just turn off the light and let that monster sit in the darkness.
Well, tomorrow is today, which confuses me about what yesterday was, but before this analogy gets even more off the rails and before it gets lost in the mess, I say no. No more waiting. Part of self-care is not letting depression and anxiety trick you into sweeping monsters back into the closet. It is working to improve yourself and one way I need to improve myself is to improve my organization. So I am off to the closet.
If no one hears from me for a while it likely means the monster trapped me. Send snacks.