I am not an inherently neat and tidy person. I could have been. But growing up I was made to keep a spotless bedroom, clean the kitchen, straighten up the house, and do yard work at the behest of my parents. Which, yeah! Of course! That’s what is supposed to happen. But my ADHD brain rebelled against it when I moved out to go to college, and it never truly recovered. All those cleaning and organizing skills just went out of my brain entirely, and I’ve struggled with it ever since. Like, I had a part time job in college and instead of spending money to go out to the bars I would pay my roommate to clean my room. Common areas were not an issue, strangely. I had no problems keeping the living room and kitchen neat. But my bedroom and bathroom would turn into absolute disasters if I did not stay on top of them.
This theme continues to this very day. Except now I have a husband, four children, two dogs, two cats, and eight chickens living with me. I fight for my life every single day in this house just to keep the common areas semi-presentable. My husband, damn him, can clean the entire house in no time at all. He called me on Sunday while I was picking up one of the kids to let me know that a former coworker and good friend made a surprise stop by the house while she was in town for a baby shower. We have like, three friends who can come by at any time, because they also have young kids and pets and equally busy lives and understand that life is crazy and the house isn’t always clean. So I dreaded getting home and feeling the embarrassment of her seeing the mess that the house was in when I’d left it earlier. But I walked in the door and everything was…clean. I looked around and looked at her and said, “I’m gonna need you to do a surprise visit every weekend, I’ll buy your gas.” He is able to see the big picture and take care of the obvious items that need to be addressed. I get obsessed with the little details. So we make a pretty good team when each of us is doing what we’re good at.
So yeah, I am not a great housekeeper, but I do okay. I do wish I could’ve gotten the cleaning and organizing flavor of OCD instead of the counting steps and checking door locks and unplugging things and constant doubt and anxiety, but the universe saw fit to give me this fat ass instead. Can’t win ‘em all. And while the main floor of the house is presentable most of the time, it takes up a good portion of my mental bandwidth. So when I am struggling, the bedroom and my bathroom and my car can really get out of hand. And gentle reader, I have been struggling with my grief and coping with loss. But today I did this.
I wish I had taken a before photo just to show the level of clutter that had accumulated. The entire surface was covered. My hair and skin products were all over the counter. Things that the kids set down and left there. Medication and vitamin bottles. Makeup. All my hair tools were just strewn across the counter. Water cups. There were clean clothes hanging on the towel bar. Hair ties EVERYWHERE. Essential oil bottles. Makeup brushes. Hoodies and tank tops and tshirts hanging on the hooks behind the door. Shoes on the floor. It was awful, but I just have not had the capacity to do anything about it. And the shitty thing is that I KNOW I will feel a little better about life when I take care of something like this. It gives me just enough dopamine to take the edge off the depression and grief. But I just cannot force myself to do anything until I am either mentally ready to tackle it or I have a catalyst. And it didn’t even take that long. It never does. I spend so much more time dreading and putting off the thing I know I need to do than the amount of time it takes to just do the damn thing and be done with it.
But today I did something. And I’ll probably do another thing later. And I sent a pic to my husband and he was so proud of me. And honestly all I really want is for someone to be proud of me. So today I feel slightly less like a worthless piece of shit. Slightly. But it’s a start.