I am reminded repeatedly by my family that as a child I used to sit in my room for hours organizing my socks by colour, length, and texture. I even so much as went to the trouble of using a sharpie to label one of the drawers "socks." Clever, right?
Yeah, I was ahead of my time, what can I say. Even today I find so much solace organzing and cleansing my closets and belongings. The process of getting rid of the old and finding the perfect home for things is both revitalising and comforting. Recently, however, my love for order and organization has left the building (and I mean this quite literally). My floors are covered in papers and my clothes rarely ever find their designated address. Finding my toothbrush at 11 pm has quickly become the highlight of my evening.
The mess on my floor is a perfect reflection of the chaos and disarray that has become my inner world. I have been feeling a strong sense of restlessness and unease which has somehow manifested itself as the sky-high mound of clothes at the foot of my bed.
Organizing has no longer become a priority as I sit here on my bed (okay, fine, on a pile of dirty clothes) thinking about what I'm going to do tomorrow. Time is pressing up on me like a million strangers in a crowded subway. I need to get off at the next stop, but the pressure and anxiety to keep up with the crowd is freezing my body and freaking my mind.
It's easy to find a hanger for your dress or the least squeaky of drawers for your precious underwear but of all the objects I have found places for, I have still yet to find a place for myself. Perhaps instead of offering such sage advice for home renovation and design, these wise lovely people could please let me in on how to organize my emotions, design my life, or tell me what colour to my paint my soul so it won't feel so heavy.
I'm in an intense and increasingly uncomfortable transition (which feels like that comfortable subway ride I was talking about above). My emotions, my fears, my desires, are all over the floor and I am slowly sifting through them. Half of my things are in an IKEA dresser while the rest spill out of plastic tubs (probably also from IKEA). It feels as if I am between worlds, half in the life I am living and half in the life I am creating. Sometimes where you live does not offer that blessed feel of warmth and strong foundation you can feel sturdy on. And sometimes that feeling of always floating is distressing and unnerving.
Coming from the girl who loves to have her ducks (and socks in a row), this very long period of chaos is hard. But finding a place for important things (I'm not talking about your bobby pin collection) takes time. It's hard to find a place for your work, for your voice, for your dreams, your doubts, or even a safe space to have a nice long deep breath. But finding that perfect place is often worth the wait.
Maybe you'll find the perfect place to settle down in right away, or the perfect platform to express yourself to the world, or a friend you can pour your heart into. Or maybe you won't find the perfect place for everything all at once because that would be very overwhelming. So if all your emotional shit is still all over the floor in your room and you just don't feel like you have it together maybe you should just wait for that crazy jolt of inspiration that tells you exactly where you need to put your heart, work, voice, socks...
You don't have to have your emotions organized in perfect little compartments in your brain or you life plan colour coded, alphabetized, and labelled. It's okay if you are still sifting through the chaos and sitting in a pile of dirty laundry writing your heart out.
Everything is good.