I am not a tidy person.
Anyone who has ever been in any bedroom that has ever been mine will testify to that, probably with a slightly terrified expression on their face as they remember it.
I get worse when I slip into depression and then being in a hideous environment makes me more depressed so I do less to fix it and get worse and so on and so forth until I am a quivering heap in a corner surrounded by clothes and plates and boxes and toys and other life debris.
I want to change. I am changing.
I am currently sat typing in this room:
This is how I want to live.
My bedroom is currently still the same as every bedroom ever and I actually feel my happiness slip a little whenever I walk in there, but after the last few days hard work (and a helping hand from Caius) it is the only room left in the flat in need of some serious TLC. The only room.
All I need to do now is keep it up. I need to tidy up the kids toys at the end of the day before I collapse in a heap for the evening, I need to make sure I keep up with the washing up every day and put the dry clothes away rather than leaving them in stacks around the place. I need to put an actual wash on at least once a day to stop it piling up into a scary mountain of biscuity toddler-tshirts and my scruffy hoodies.
I need to find a routine.
Astrid the Motivational Octopus reminds me of some tasks daily and gets sad whenever I forget thus sending me on a guilt trip and making me do it (‘I die a little inside whenever you forget this…’ and such like) and I’m trying to make things into habits so I do them without thinking.
Things are slowly starting to fall into place and I’m slowly starting to feel like, actually, things might be okay. Really okay. Everything.
Life isn’t going to be perfect, of course it isn’t – I’ve got two toddlers who are growing up at four hundred miles an hour and run through life (and rooms) like a pair of hurricanes, sometimes in harmony and other times bouncing off each other and causing widespread mass destruction, I’m in a relationship which inevitably isn’t going to always be easy because you’re endlessly in that dance of existing closely with someone else who is just as entitled to bad days and different opinions as you are, I’ve got to muddle through food-shopping and the like, run a house and stay on top of my intermittent depressive episodes.
But it’s going to be okay. I’m looking forward to the future. No, scratch that, I’m EXCITED about the future because it’s starting to look like real life and positive and I’m not facing it alone.
Everything is falling into place – from the washing up to my hand in that special someone’s – and I’m telling you now, I’m going to learn where everything belongs and remember it all.
Life is looking up and I’m dragging the housework along with me.