I’m a bit late for my spring clean this year, but that’s because I just hate it. Sadly it’s needed regularly to make sure that everything in my home is wanted and has a purpose. What that is doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else but me. It could just be a memory of a beautiful moment with someone, something ugly to remind me how far I’ve come or something given to me that may not be to my taste but was a present; it’s nice that someone would want to give me something willingly. Either way, this is my home; I want it to be my sanctuary and I want it to be as perfect as I can make it.
With deep cleaning, until everything is done, my home ends up in a much worse state than it began. There is mess everywhere, in some rooms I can barely see the floor and the only room completed, because it was the smallest/ easiest is the bathroom. I know that I’ll be so happy with everything organised, in its place, sparkling clean, checked and proved itself worthy. For someone who hates cleaning and loves making a mess, this is horrible. I’ve got paints, an easel, canvasses mixed with shoes, brushes and cat toys as I decide if they’ll have a new home for the next year. I’ve rearranged my bedroom, emptied cupboards and put my baking utensils in the middle of the kitchen.
As I look around the shitshow that was my beautiful home; I’m actually proud. Not because I’ve unleashed complete chaos, but because when it’s finished, everything will have a place, be organised, easily accessible and extra clean. I love knowing that should someone have to move a cupboard, there won’t be any spiders hiding because I only polished the surfaces! Everything in my home will be sparkling!
I suppose this is the perfect metaphor for my journey here. Of course, a couple of years ago I was a mess because I was only looking after the surface and not looking deeper. I wanted the image of health without taking care of the mechanics. It reminds me of when my parents would insist that I couldn’t go out until I cleaned my room so the solution was to stuff everything under the bed and in the cupboards. Fine on the surface as long as you don’t look too closely.
Just as the wardrobes and under the bed was a great way to hide my mess, so are a lot of vices. If you know me, you will know I love wine and alcohol in general. I used them as coping mechanisms, to take me out of my comfort zone and deal with life. As I looked into what I needed to do to get to a healthy state of affairs, I looked at giving up alcohol. After all, we are told that it’s the route of many wrongs!
Like most substance abuse and other unhealthy behaviour, my giving up alcohol was akin to putting a plaster on a waterfall and praying that that would solve the flooding of emotions. Or, keeping to cleaning; getting rid of the bed, wardrobe and hoping that my stuff magically organises itself…(I did just wish now that my cat or any creature would come and finish the job I’ve started! Another lie I was told as a child- humph!!). As much as I love positivity, y’all know I’m a fan of realism too. I’m going to have to put my own shit back once I’ve examined, cleaned it and decided on where it’ll live.
This is exactly my process to get to a healthier being. To the me that can dream, hope and be positive. I needed to break, feel, make a mess of myself before I could be put back together in a way that worked for me. I needed to examine what was important and should be kept, the essence of me. I had to decide what I needed to get rid of because it served no purpose and was just kept out of habit. As annoying as oldies are, time is the greatest healer.
I look out on the huge mess I’ve made, but, I’m happy because I know that it allows me to see what I have and what shit I can get rid of. What serves no purpose in my life. What do I need to take with me on my next journey. Just as with my old pain, I no longer wish to provide room for it on my shelves. This is my home, it’s my sanctuary and I want everything to be beautiful.