When Your Room Resembles Your Life.

Maybe it’s the somewhat nice weather.

Maybe it’s because I’m slightly thawed.

Or maybe these sinus meds and overuse of Nyquil has finally ripped my psyche and made me insane.

Whatever it is, I feel the need to sort, purge, and organize.

That’s a little professional organizing jargon.

It hit me when I woke today; my life is a mess. Not a normal mess, but a dirty, unkempt, mess.

I can not live in such conditions.

Oh sure, I can certainly live in a mess, but emotionally, I become a serious disaster.

There are papers everywhere.

There are clothes lying on the floor.

There’s a smell of wet dog in Einstein’s kennel, and I can’t get over the feeling that I’ve lost something I may need, though I’m not sure what it is. Thank you anxiety.

You can have a look for yourself. A personal glimpse inside my room, a.k.a my brain. (It’s an unfinished house, but we can save that for another post specifically about what I like to call, environmental projection).

This is the top of my dog’s kennel. The catch all of my life.
My notepads are on the floor. SMDH.
This tote is for immediate items. It’s a damn mess.
My desk. Nothing gets done here.
This is just sad.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Can we just vacuum all this up or throw it all away or something?
Oh, look, my dog. Even he doesn’t want to talk about it.


I need to write. I need to create. I need to be clean.

I have a friend who tells me, you are what you project, or something to this effect.

In other words, if I let my life become messy, I, myself, will become messy.

There’s something to say about a clean room. Perhaps she’s right?

Perhaps my dirty room is a projection of my dirty mental state?

So let’s be honest. My room is a disaster, (this bears repeating).

I haven’t cleaned in nearly a year.

Of course, I do laundry. I wash my sheets, but what I haven’t done is put those clothes away. I haven’t put all those papers inside their respective folders. I have endless amounts of crap on the floor. It’s a damn disaster.

I used to be a professional organizer, which is why this is all the sadder.

If I walked into your bedroom and saw what my bedroom is now, the first thing I would ask is, so what’s been going on in your life? How is your mental well-being?

These may be questions too personal for some, but they need to be answered.

So let’s answer them, for the sake of my room.

My mental well-being is shit.

Yep, you read that correctly.

It’s shit.

First, I have depression and anxiety. I have PTSD and a slew of other low-lying mental health issues. This plays a huge part in the state of my room.

Second, I have absolutely no money. I have two jobs and I haven’t been able to pay my bills properly since June. This is serious. Thank God I live with my parents because they have helped me pay most of my bills.

Third, I was given false hope. I was a server. I was making decent money. I lived a life. I stopped to take a mental break and went to serving and making ice cream at the same job. It was a pay cut, but this was okay because I was promised a new job with better pay, benefits, and the prospect (in my mind) to move on up and out, which is very important to me.

This did not happen. My second, more lucrative job, (supposedly), at the cheese factory, stinks – literally and figuratively. So now I work two jobs with one day off, no money, and I’m losing my mind.

Thank goodness for offseason at the diner because now I just work at the cheese plant. This gives me time to think. I need time to think.

What all this time did not do was give me personal time to be creative. When you work two jobs with one day off, you lose time for yourself – putting my mental well-being in a state of despair. All I’ve been doing with my free time is catching up on my self-care – my neglected life.

It isn’t pretty.

I need my outlets. Self-care is critical.

So in turn, my life became shit.

My room became an even bigger pile.

Your life can project your mental health.

Let me take a deep breath. This is a lot.





If I were your organizer and you let loose all your baggage, I would place my hand on your shoulder, if it was okay, of course, and let you know it was all going to be alright. We will fix your room and your life one step at a time.

Life can get completely out of hand, out of touch, and out of control, if we let it.

I let it.

It’s time to bring it in, let some of it go, and change.

*as a side note, in a few weeks, I’ll quit the cheese job, and go back to the diner. Secretly, I love it there. I love my friends. I love the atmosphere, and I love to sing. It makes people happy. The job lets me be creative, and most of all, it gave me time to live.

It’s a new year (January doesn’t count. That’s a trial month), so let’s make it better than the last.

Thank you for reading.

Let it out... we are all listening.

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