Last evening, I had the pleasure of going to dinner with my friend and former roommate Lyla. (Hi, Lyla! I told you I'd be mentioning you!) Lyla proceeded to blow my mind in two ways. One, she told me to order the lemon ricotta blueberry pancakes, which were even more delicious than they sound. Two, when we hung out at her apartment and I showered her cats with love, she showed me her room, which was simple, elegant, and beautifully clean. "I've been keeping the cats out of it," she said, as said cats wrestled and hissed at each other beyond her bedroom door. "I've been spending more time in my room because it's my haven." This was a big deal to me for several reasons. I would never call my bedroom my haven. For one, the window is currently permanently cracked open, which means that the wind can slither in at any moment despite the bath towel I have wadded up in the sill and the saran wrap I haphazardly taped to the glass. My portable space heater is no match for Chicago winters. Secondly, I am, without hyperbole, the messiest person alive. My room is less haven and more Bermuda triangle, where socks, cutlery, cat toys, books, and important paperwork can go mysteriously missing at any moment. As a wee lass, when my parents instructed (then demanded, then pleaded) that I clean my room, I would grin in the smug way that only a precocious, snot-nosed 11-year-old can, and retort, "But messiness is a sign of genius!" Spoiler alert, 11-year-olds of the world: it's not. Or, if it is, it's still not worth it. Now, I'm more apt to retort that the state of my room reflects the state of my mind. Whenever I get especially busy, or stressed, or depressed, or anxious, my room becomes progressively messier until, one day, I wake up to see my cat napping on my damp bath towel, every article of clothing I own on the floor, and more dishes on my bookshelf than in the kitchen cupboards. It's not endearing. It's not cute. For God's sake, the kitty litter box is in the corner of my room, and there is kitty litter in my bed. I am a monster. I like the idea of my room being a haven: a place just for me, and also for my cat, who I refuse to kick out because she's huge and sleeps on my head and keeps me warm. Therefore, for the First Day of Self-Care, I am going to CLEAN. And I have a feeling I'm not going to have a good time. SELF-CARE METHOD: CLEANING MOOD RATING (from 1 to 100, with 1 being the worst): 51 EMOTIONS: sleepy, anxious, willful, reluctant, excited The following is a picture of my room before I cleaned it. Viewer discretion is advised. THOUGHTS ON THE METHOD: I cleaned. Boy howdy, y'all, did I clean. I picked up all the clothes and dumped them in a bin, or put them away if they were clean. I threw out all the wrappers and receipts and discarded D&D character sheets. I let the Roomba loose to suck up all the kitty litter that was on the floor. (SO. MUCH. KITTY LITTER.) I cleared the empty wine bottles and socks off my bed, swept away the kitty litter and smudged sage ashes from my sheets, and resolved to do laundry... Soon. I know when to pick my battles. The process itself wasn't exactly relaxing. I felt a sense of accomplishment about 15 minutes in; after an hour, I was staring at the wall, ruminating about what a messy, unorganized piece of shit I was while chugging a Mountain Dew. I wonder if other forms of self-care can at times lead to resentment or disappointment. Maybe taking a bath, or putting on makeup, could trigger a flicker of self-consciousness; taking the time to do something enjoyable could feel like a waste of time. My therapist often tells me that negative thoughts and internal judgments are habitual, and that it takes a lot of work to "rewire" the neural pathways that feed negativity. I imagine I'll do fisticuffs with a good number of self-inflicted judgments during this self-care process. However, lo and behold, two hours after my starting time, my room looks like this: I don't feel as if my room has suddenly transformed into my private oasis, but it does feel considerably more relaxing, warm, inviting. Now that I'm not distracted by the LITERAL MOUNTAINS OF STUFF on my floor, I can focus on more important things, like the Frida Kahlo candle flickering on my makeshift altar, or the art on my wall that I did during my outpatient stay--or on my cat, who really wants me to feed her now.
POST-CARE MOOD RATING: 55 EMOTIONS: satisfied, accomplished, relieved, proud, anxious Tell me, sweet ones:
2 Comments
1/6/2017 01:50:29 am
WOW! You did good! I have gotten messier as my anxiety has gotten worse, but it does feel so good to get something clean...something I have to do soon. Thanks for the inspiration. Your room looks great. Be proud!
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Lida
1/6/2017 10:45:44 am
I fight anxiety everyday, sometimes my only self are is exercise!!! I'm OCD on top of everything else, so if I don't clean I would be worse!! I feel like I play tug of war with myself daily!!! I'm glad you got to clean today and felt a little better😘❤️ Your room look great now!!! Hope you enjoy your vacation, tell your parents I said hello!! Love you Dani keep up the good work
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