Procrastination at it’s finest - Writing as avoidance

I am collapsing on the couch after almost two hours of what I like to think of as organizing/cleaning/purging. Right now our home is one pile away from an episode of Hoarders (at least that is wishful thinking, it probably qualifies) and I am finally getting around to tackling it. Slowly. I can give you all the reasons in the world, but to be honest I’ve never been a neat person. I am an artist. I collect things that I plan to use. I am a full time working mom. That means that the things I collect almost never get used. But I have trouble parting with things that might come in handy for myself, my kids or my friends. So I pile. My husband and children are not any neater than I am. Dan is the king of shoving with reckless abandon. Which combined with my collecting is the perfect storm on an ordinary day. We’ve always struggled and explained that we are clean, but cluttered.

A microcosm of our mess

Depression and the exhaustion that have come with it have taken a bad situation and exacerbated it to a new degree. I have a stack of self help books piled on the fireplace (see above). Clean laundry piled high in a basket on the couch. Art supplies as far as the eye can see. Not to mention that I have started working on invitations and decorations for a party that isn’t until March of next year and they are all collected in what should be a dining room. Needless to say we won’t be eating a meal in there until mid-2017 at the earliest. Camp packing is happening in the living room, along with a growing collection of things to be donated. I haven’t even mentioned the upstairs or the unfinished basement. It’s scary. And overwhelming. Extremely overwhelming. I’ve actually been making an attempt to get the house in better shape in the last few days. Starting it has had a domino effect, as I go to put something in its’ proper place and then I have to organize and straighten where it belongs. Not to brag I have cleaned the front pantry closet, garage tool shelf, part of the office and sorted the lost sock bucket that had been living on my bedroom floor for the last several months or years. Well over 150 socks had lost their matches although I am happy to report many of them were reunited yesterday.

Sadly I would say that anyone entering our home would not be able to see the dent that was made. And I am worn out at 9 in the morning. I have to also make dinner and take my daughter to an appointment. And go to the pharmacy for a refill of my meds. And go to my processing group. And my energy level is not ready or capable for getting all of this done in addition to more purging and cleaning. Yet I can’t leave the den the way it looks now. I sat down to get my thoughts on paper and then I’ll drag myself back to get at least part of that room done. Only because I have a good friend stopping by with her little girl and I’m afraid we could lose her in this mess. Unfortunately that is the only reason. I’ve become somewhat complacent to tell people coming over that they have to excuse the mess. That is not the home I want to portray. I don’t want to live in a cluttered mess. It is not mentally healthy for a variety of reasons. And I want my children to learn better housekeeping.

Off to separate the mints from the glue from the kids artwork, hammers, glue guns, hats, thread and so many other items that are co-mingled in boxes and bags in the middle of the den.

I am going to try to accomplish lots more today and also not to beat myself up if I don’t get as far as I want. Wish me luck.