orderliness

A side blog at the intersection of parenthood, housekeeping, and mental illness.   (My main blog is lovelinessofsmallthings.)

[unfuckyourhabitat]

It’s OK if it’s not easy for you

So generally, I’m a good internet citizen, and as a rule, I don’t read the comments. On anything. Ever. With some of the publicity that the UfYH book has been getting lately, though, I’ll admit to briefly losing reason from time to time and reading some comments. And there’s one kind of comment I keep coming across that makes me want to scream:

“This is so stupid. I mean, it’s so easy. Just clean up your house. No need for lists or tricks. Just clean it.”

“Can’t this whole article be shortened up to: don’t be a slob?”

“Ugh, how hard is it these days that we need all these ways of telling people how to clean?“

And I always refrain from responding, because I haven’t completely taken leave of my senses, but here’s what I always want to say:

“If you think it’s easy, then this isn’t for you.” That’s it. If you think it’s easy, or stupid, or unnecessary, UfYH wasn’t meant for you. If you think articles and books about cleaning are pointless, well, I’m not sure why you read them except to be a jerk about it in comments. It’s meant for everyone else. For people who don’t know how to clean. Or who don’t know where to start. For people who can’t do it the way they were taught because that takes energy or mobility that they don’t have. For people who are overwhelmed. Or ashamed. It’s OK to be any or all of those things, no matter what sanctimonious strangers on the internet say. If you’re any of those things and you’re here, you’re using the resources you can find to try to make things better for yourself. Isn’t that the point of the internet (well, that and cute animal gifs)?

Screw those jerks who think that because it’s easy for them, that it’s easy for everybody. It’s not. Don’t let them fool you into thinking you’re somehow lesser in any way because you don’t innately know or instinctively do this stuff. There are way more of us than there are of them; we just usually keep quiet about it for any number of reasons (shame, fear, judgment, frustration…). They can go feel smug about their clean houses or whatever somewhere else. Now, go clean, be awesome, and don’t read the comments.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

“It’s OK to be any or all of those things, no matter what sanctimonious strangers on the internet say.“

So much yes to this.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

New Year, new beginnings.  I need something new.  I am struggling in so many ways.  I need more orderliness in my chaotic house.  I need more orderliness inside my chaotic mind.  I hope it’s been better for you.  Maybe I’ll see you around Tumblr again?  That would be lovely.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Reality, unreality

Okay, so it's been a while since I've checked in here.  There have been birthdays in my family -- the end of October is the beginning of All Holidays, All The Time at my house.  Birthday, Halloween, birthday, Thanksgiving, Advent (like a month of All Holiday itself), Christmas, New Years.  After homeschooling for almost eight years now, I know that any plans I make for this season will be disrupted.  So we'll just do what we can, and as far as possible without me beating myself up over what we can't do.

Plus there was an election here in the U.S.  Perhaps you've heard.  I am not happy with the outcome, but I'm oddly not distraught, just ready to roll up my sleeves and get to work.  I am not fundamentally, deeply shaken to discover that a lot of people chose to vote for a man who looks so bad to me.  I already know that evil lurks in the hearts of men and women, often right along with goodness.  Mr. Trump is more publicly evil than many, but I knew that he exists.  And the men and women who voted for him, I am certain, did not think they were voting for evil.  They might have been voting for him *despite* evil (in which case would they please speak up now to denounce the evil, so the rest of the world knows what part of him they wanted), or they may have been unable to see it.  And... okay... maybe some were attracted to the evil too.

I saw something dislocating, like the shadowy possibility of a Trump victory, while watching the third debate.  While he lied and said impossible things, he didn't sprout horns or actually catch fire or any other outward, undeniable visible sign that something was wrong.  He just looked like a person.  He was saying these unbelievable things, as if they were so obviously and boringly true they didn't need arguing for.  It felt weird.  Because I knew what he was saying wasn't plausible.  But if I weren't watching with an eye already to catching him in a lie, it would have been easy just to accept it all at face value.  I'm told that this is how emotional abuse works; that's a chilling idea, that we're being gaslighted by our President-elect.  But that’s what it looks like.

Anyhow.  I’m back.  At least partly, because I need a place to write my way through the surreal election and what comes next.  Partly, because my house is once again a mess.  But that will be another post, another day.

[wordsnquotes]

All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life — where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it.

Miranda July, It Chooses You (via stolenwine)

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Complaint day:  I am sick, and I’ve been sick all week, and although it’s not getting especially worse it’s not getting better, and I’m tired of it.  Stop being sick, self.  (Yeah, that works for me every time.)

And I’m being beaten up by end-of-month hormones, which this month is possibly combining with my daughter’s high school dance adventure and Trump in the news to bring back memories of extremely unpleasant experiences of harassment in school.  So while my body is dragging around all sniffly and coughing and tired, my mind feels kind of bruised and shaken, ears ringing, numb.

And my hands hurt from typing in a bad position, and I need new glasses to read this screen, and I don’t know what to call this blog anyway.  And I am failing my children and my family and my friends by being so... whatever you call it... the word for “not robust”.  And I use too many “and”s because I am just writing and not editing.  And I kind of need to call my mom back and am dreading it.  Phooey.

But you know, where I live, it’s really pretty outside today.  I don’t know whether I’m going to get out there or not, but I can see the blue sky through the window.  I bet that wherever you are, there’s something lovely too.  I hope you find it.  I hope you find something absolutely gorgeously blue-sky beautiful.

[daydreamzy-deactivated20200626]

I want to be known as someone who’s full of love and radiates light

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Very brave today

I’ve been feeling much better the last few days -- surprisingly, wonderfully solid.  So much so that when I found out today was National Coming Out Day, I did something very brave and left a note on my Facebook page for my IRL people to see if they happen by.  That someone they care about is LGBTQ of some sort, and they don’t know, and I’m her. 

I look pretty conventional, I think, if maybe toward the geeky end of the spectrum.  My family looks pretty conventional, although behind closed doors we are secretly the Catholic/Quaker Gamer’s Horse, Toad, and Star Trek Fan Club.  People have been saying “Nice girl, kind of quiet” about me for three decades.  That is completely just as true as it ever was.

It’s also true that I am a woman who can be attracted to women.  At least some women.  And to men.  At least my man.  It’s a bit confusing in here sometimes.  But it feels very good to be able to at least name the confusion and to be at last choosing to let it to be said out loud in my life.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

And keep breathing

So.  Hormones.  I’m accustomed to the end-of-month mood changes.  This month I get an extra special mid-month ovulation bonus.  Instead of being hopeless and slow, I’m wired.  Electrified.  My body is ready, man, to run away from the lion or go kill it or something...except there is no lion.  I think I need to go lift a car or something.  Settle down, body.  Nothing is happening here.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Take one breath

I spent the weekend reading Glennon Doyle Melton’s new book, Love Warrior.  She describes this as a book about her marriage -- how it fell apart, and how she and her husband healed.  I heard is even more as a book about how she discovered the toxic kool-aid ideas about femaleness she accidentally drank as a child and how she began to build a new life as an adult.  A really good book, and I highly recommend it.  I hope to revisit out some of the more resonant parts later, but first I have to get through this unfortunate side effect of feeling temporarily even more sensitive to my own toxic mind than usual.

Time for the usual remedies: Take one breath.  Then another.  Feel my feet on the floor.  Rest my hands on my thighs.  I can feel that, too.  I am right here.  I am an adult.  I am in my own space.  I’m safe.  What is the next kind of care I need right now?  First write a little; that helps me find myself when I feel lost.  Then probably breakfast.  Then check on my children.  By the time I’ve made it that far I will probably have forgotten all about having feelings and will be able to slide smoothly into the rest of my day.  I can do this.  I am already doing it.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

I’m still here.  Just so you don’t worry.  Sometimes worry is appropriate with me, but this time I’m just busy.  And resting.  It’s been a month, all right, and I need the rest.  I hope to be back writing next week -- see you soon!

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Small recoveries

Ok.  I am still here.  I am still breathing.  I walk past the empty terrarium, and I have neither thoughts nor feelings, which is slightly odd considering how distraught I was a few days ago.  But I’ll take it for now.  There is a mountain of toad-related plasticware that needs cleaning; I will probably be able to feel something when I start dealing with that.

In other good news, the thing on my shoulder is healing.  The new skin is not pretty, but it’s waterproof.  Good enough.  Last night I pulled out my old favorite vanilla coconut oil after my shower and slathered myself, just like I did before the surgery.  It smells familiar and not at the same time.  I can’t tell for sure, but I think I like it.  I’m not sure, but I think it’s okay for me not to know.  There’s time.  Right?  I can take my time re/discovering what I like.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

My toad Ribbiter died yesterday.

I want to go home.  Which is odd, because I am home.  This is my house.  I have lived here with my family for a decade.  But.  I want to go home.  Please.  Last night was worse but I can still feel it. 

It’s like being a kid who has had a long, long day at school.  Maybe the other kids are mean, and the only privacy is for three minutes in the bathroom which smells funny, and recess was cancelled because it rained and instead we had to go to the gym and play dodgeball.  And if you fall down and cry for the startle of it, everyone crowds around asking if you’re hurt and why you’re crying and you can’t even.  And the teachers are the only bright spot but they are so busy with the people having fistfights or the ones who struggle to read or spitballs that they don’t have time for you ever.  And spitballs.  And the cafeteria.  And the only other kid who kind of got it moved to Macon, Georgia after half a year, and kids at the bus stop used to tease you but you were just grateful to have a friend at all, except you don’t any more.  And learning multiplication was bad enough but now it’s long division.  And you’ve just had enough and please, please, could this day be over and could it be time to go home where people love you the way you are and things smell nice and you can read or play in the forest or go to your room alone with nobody else around, and you can rest and recover before tomorrow hits.  Please.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Taking stock

I guess this is the first day of the rest of my life.  I just ran out of instructions to follow, and I'm not sure what to do next.  I suppose the place to start is where I am.

Some things haven't changed over the last two months:

I'm still wrangling the mood disorder.

My kids are still lovable, complicated, and intense.

We as a family are still homeschooling, with some success and some cringing failure.

There are still books (among other things) piled all over the basement floor.

Some things have improved immensely since I started this project:

The front stairs and hallway are now clear of debris.

The sink is still shiny and the kitchen counter is mostly clear.

The junk magnet behind my chair at the table is clean.

I am making lists every day for what the kids need to do, so they know ahead of time and I don't have to decide on the spot whether we're done.

I have a great little notebook for keeping me on track through my day.

My husband really appreciates and enjoys the progress toward clean/tidy, and has been working in parallel to get the house under control.

I love my kindly post-it notes.

Some things started getting better but still need work:

The living room table was cleared last month by the traditional method of moving everything on it into piles on the floor.  The table is within striking distance of clean most days, but the piles haven't shifted at all.  I'd really like to have the rest of the floor back.

I need to be more reliable about keeping records of the homeschool work we do, so when it's time to turn R's work into a transcript I know what goes on it.

I have gotten slack about doing Fit2B in the mornings.  I think I'll feel better, mind and body both, when I'm exercising more.

So...what comes first?  I have another ten days of September, just right for a minor project, while I think about what I want to focus on in October.  This would be a good time to rub it down and make it stick, as we say here.  Without adding anything new, just keep on doing the daily things, so they become a little more automatic.  See, Tumblr, you're still helping me: writing about what to do next is reminding me I've gotten out of the habit of reading the checklists in my useful notebook.  Just doing the morning and evening routines would get my body moving and my notes made.  I can do that.  And although I can't always declutter (because mental problems are paralyzing me) and I can't always clean (because meeting basic vegetative needs comes first), *sometimes* I can.  That's okay.  That's good enough.  Who I am is good enough.  I will just do what I can.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Hooray!

Day 31: This is only the beginning.

Congratulations, self!  I did it!  It may have taken me almost two months to do 31 steps, but that is more than I have ever managed before.  Writing about the process definitely helped: thanks, Tumblr!  I'm sure I wouldn't have made it without you.

The question now is, what comes next?  Today's message from FlyLady reminds me that there is more to do.  More decluttering, for a start.  More work on forming habits and routines that will keep me healthy and give me a shot at happiness.  Eventually, there will be detailed cleaning as the house emerges from its shroud of stuff, and then weekly maintenance.  It sounds daunting.  But it all can be accomplished little by little, by taking tiny manageable steps, just like I've been doing.  Jump in where you are,  says.  I think, maybe, I can do that.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Mind/body, continued

Last night I woke up to the painful sensation of the wound on my shoulder ripping open a little further.  I wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I was just sleeping.  Evidently just the weight of my relaxed shoulder is heavy enough that it is pulling the incision apart.  I think that the first couple times it split were also at night, when in a mostly-asleep state I reached for something beside the bed.

I’m left feeling again like I can’t trust my body.  It’s as if my physical being is a small child who can’t be left unsupervised: as soon as I’m not consciously looking out for myself, mischief starts happening.  That is frustrating enough.  But in addition, the situation cuts right into an old, old psychological wound.  I keep finding myself overcome with grief, the awful whole-body sobbing kind.  Because nobody is protecting me.  Because I am helpless and defenseless and in need, and nobody is looking after me.  Because there does not exist any person who will take care of me or fight for me or give me what I need and can’t get for myself.  In this place in my deep psyche, I am small, defenseless, and alone in a damaging world.  So at the same time I’m trying to heal the physical injury on my shoulder, I’m also struggling to cope with the mental and emotional fallout that is unhinging me.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Errands, groceries, lessons, appointments

Day 30: Weekly things

Once again, it's affirming to see that FlyLady is naming things that I have already blundered into doing as a way to manage my overwhelming life.  Today's idea is that each of us has things we need to do every week, and it will help us stay on top of them if we plan a regular day for each of them.  Having kids' activities during the day has forced me into planning like this.  Often there's only one day a week when I have time and transportation for grocery shopping, so that becomes Grocery Day.  Likewise, there are only a few windows in the schedule that are even possible for doctors' appointments, so that determines what day becomes Outside Appointment Day.  Which day is which can change from semester to semester, but that's okay.  Just knowing what to expect in general from Mondays (or whatever) makes planning for and living through the actual day easier.

[orderlinessofsmallthings]

Mind/body connection

Having the carcinoma removed from my shoulder has damaged more than just a bit of skin on my back.  After the surgery, normal kinds of movement, like turning or reaching, stretched the skin and hurt.  More so in the first few days, but even now, two and a half weeks in, some positions and movements are painful.  Which means I reflexively hold my body differently, and I move my body through space differently.

I have a diastasis from my pregnancies more than a decade ago; over the last year I've been working consciously to build habits of good posture and of engaging my abdominal transverse muscles, which have allowed the separation to finally close.  The first day after my surgery, I was all happy: "Look how learning to squat helps me!  I can't bend over because of my back, but I can still squat and reach things on the floor!"  But over the next few days I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that the habits of core engagement I've learned were not happening any more.  I'd catch myself squatting, or lifting my feet in the shower, or getting out of bed, without automatically bracing my core.  After a week, my navel was sore in that suspicious old way, like there's stress on the diastasis.  My clothes don't quite feel comfortable, in that same suspicious way.  I am not happy.

This surgery, which looks so small, keeps unhinging me in new ways.  I am not well connected to my body anyway.  Am I now going to have to start teaching myself all over again?  Think about reaching, engage core, now reach.  Here's the chair, engage core, now move mindfully and sit down.  I had come to a point where I didn't have to think about all those steps.  I was just doing them.  But the sensations and body cues feel different now.  It's almost like having a new body.  I've forgotten how to move.

I don't want a few weeks of not exercising to make this big a difference.  I don't want it to be a problem.  I don't want to have to start over.  I don't want this.  I don't, I don't.  But.  Here I am.  After I have my little tempest of unhappy feelings, I can take a big breath.  I can start where I am.  Wherever that is.  As my back heals, I will be able to exercise more.  I will get stronger again.  I will make friends with my body again.  I can do this.  The flood of feelings will probably keep coming back, too, and I'll keep writing my way through until I reach the big sigh afterward.  Maybe I'll be able to smile at myself.  Then I'll engage my core and mindfully get out of my chair, and I’ll go on.