This past week, my uncle, cousin, and her two children came to stay with us for Thanksgiving, which of course meant that I had to give up my room. This is how it's always been, whenever we have house guests they stay in my room because I am the only one out of my two siblings who has their own bathroom. Unfortunately, this also means that whenever company is coming, it puts me into a mad dash to clean my room. For someone who keeps almost all other aspects in their life in complete order, I've never understood why I allow my room to get so out of hand. But I do, and it's always a mess, but at least it's my mess. There is always order within the disorder that is my room and I have a constant general sense of where exactly everything is. I've found that when I do attempt to organize my room, I often end up outsmarting my self and putting things in logical, smart places, but then later forget where those places were. So as I was cleaning my room, a good three hour task, I got to look at all the ways that my past self was smarter than my current self, and all they ways that it was less intelligent as well.
I'm usually apprehensive before starting an organizational project because I know it will lead to frustration and eat up a good deal of time, but I always end up really enjoying myself because I actually love to sort things. I enjoy putting things in places and making them look nice , and afterwards I constantly have a sense of accomplishment because I know that everything is where it should be. Then that sense of accomplishment turns into anger as I frantically search to find things I've hidden away from judgmental house guest eyes. Sometimes I just don't understand why I do the things I do. I have no idea why I there is a tub full of every paper and handout I received last school year sitting under my desk, but there it is, quietly mocking me. Nor do I know why I have a drawer full of dance stuff when I always forget that I put my dance things in there and then end up having a panic attack before performances because I can't find any of it, even though it's all neatly stored away. It's amazing how rational and idiotic I can be at the exact same time.
One of the things I realized while cleaning was that I hold onto things for far longer than I should. This is probably one of my worst habits, because it just leads to excess clutter and my room being filled with bizarre things I haven't touched in ages. It's so hard for me to throw things away because I always get that terrifying, nagging question, "but what if I need it?"I constantly seem to come up with the most absurd justifications for keeping things I shouldn't, and then just end up feeling claustrophobic in my prison full of junk. I need to learn to let things go and stop living my life in hypothetical "What if's". There is a time and a place for everything, and a good majority of the things I own have lost their time, so therefore they must now lose their place.
In conclusion, cleaning my room has shown me that I need to be more logical and less, for lack of a better word, stupid. Probably in all aspects of life, but especially in the state of my room.
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