My Mum’s favourite exasperated complaint about me when I was a young adult was, “You live like a student”. Shit was always haphazardly strewn around me – normally there were at least three art or science projects going on, random college work across the floor, and a shit tonne of cleanish clothes piled up waiting to be worn. I would never make my bed which I remember being a weird source of pride to me.
When I was about 10 years old, my cousin stayed over and borrowed my room for the weekend. After his first night, I came in to see my bed neatly made (for the first time ever). I asked him why he’d bother wasting his time with that when he was just going to make it all messy again 10 hours later. I don’t think I ever did get an answer, just a smirk.
It’s only been very recently that I have come to understand the importance of making a bed and keeping a clean space. I’ve recognised that I couldn’t use being artistic or juvenile as an excuse for my sh*t. My space was unruly because my brain was. There was just no direction or pride in my life and I didn’t yet understand the saying, “How you do one thing is how you do everything”. Now I understand completely.
Now I know that if I ever feel like things are getting too chaotic in my brain, the first place to look to for a remedy is how my environment looks. And normally fixing that one thing allows me to fix everything else too. I missed a few days of social media and blog posting last week because I couldn’t concentrate and everything felt too much. So I tidied my room which was messy from decorating, and here I am writing this now.