Cleaning

I find it hard to clean. My room sits here in a state of eternal clutter and dustiness. Now, it's not like I don't WANT to have a clean and tidy room, I'd love having my laundry put away and an empty bin and space to move. I just find it hard to begin.

I know that once I start I'll spiral into seemingly unrelated tasks my brain comes up with, noticing things in the wrong place and needing to set them right, ending up in a separate room sorting things there, realising something in the starting room could be done more efficiently if I take it all apart and start again.

So I don't clean, I don't tidy, out of fear that the job will never end. My clean clothes stay at the end of my bed, piled high waiting for the day I can finally bring myself to it. My pile of things to sort continues to build, consuming my desk and my shelves. A blanket sits on the floor, expecting to be moved and used. All untouched because of a fear that once I start I can never stop.

This isn't to say I DON'T clean... every cup and bowl and plate and drinks can always ends up back in the kitchen in either the bin or sink. My dirty clothes find their home in the households washing basket. Those are things I do in the moment though, those don't need time carving out for them, they're a part of my daily activity. They occupy the same space as remembering to shower or brush my teeth or making a cup of tea in the mornings. Those aren't jobs, or tasks to do, they're routine.

So maybe I'm scared of cleaning. Maybe that's my next thing to work on. After all, I can't move out and be independent if I'm never going to clean. But I know I can clean. It happens in those moments where I go wild and suddenly I have a spotless room ready for the next buildup. Maybe I just need to force myself to begin... after all those clothes won't put themselves away.

contact me!: luna@soup3461.com

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