In desperate need of spring cleaning

I am buried. Surrounded by stuff. I want, more than anything, a decluttered life, and yet I can’t keep ahead of the piles. Piles of papers. Piles of school work (kids’). Piles of books (mine). Piles of paperwork (mine). Piles of toys (kids). Piles of to-do’s on piles of lists (mine).

I’ve given some serious thought to just throwing everything away (or recycling) and living with the consequences. A test to see if I really needed it in the first place. But I look under the surface and immediately know why and when I’ll need it. And most of the time, the reason is legit. And then the pile that can be excused is too small to qualify as true decluttering and the whole exercise seems futile.

But it needs to go. It’s in my way. It’s a physical and mental block. I’ve read that 15 minutes a day can lead to clutter free life, but I don’t do anything in 15 minutes. I’m thorough. I like to jump in the deep end and work until I, or the project, is exhausted. I dream of having a whole week off from work, alone, to methodically go through the whole house. Since that’s not likely to happen (because I mean, really, if I had a whole week off to myself would I really spend it cleaning?).  I need to break it down. But there’s always something else to do. Something that either is more important or that I convince myself to be as important (see earlier posts about how persuasive I am). Plus, 15 minutes a day doesn’t put enough of a dent in the grand total. New piles sprout in, like, 12 minutes. I haven’t timed it, but I’m pretty sure the Universe seeks balance by replacing one clean surface with a deeper pile somewhere else in my house.

How do people do it? How do people let go of the stuff and not think back “gee, I wish I still had that?” Or, if they do have those wistful thoughts of longing for past crap, how do they get over it instead of kicking themselves for letting go of it in the first place? I don’t want it. I want the space more than I want the stuff. But I fear wishing I had it still. I fear making a mistake and tossing something that later proves to have been an instrumental part of my past that I’ll forever regret removing from my life. I know it sounds dramatic, but it’s my truth. I need to find a way to have the memories without the stuff (and if you say make a scrapbook, I will find you and throw my piles of scrapbook stuff at you).

Come out, come out, wherever you are: A call to Passion.

I wonder how many other people walk around with a sense they are supposed to accomplish something bigger and better than what they are currently doing.

Because I do. And yet I know it’s all relative. I do a lot. I accomplish a lot. And thinking I always need to top myself is a challenge, but one that I adore (usually). The times it’s too much pressure I list of all I have done up to this point and I feel better.

So many people seem content, or at least clear about what drives them forward. These people talk about finding their passion. These people proclaim that when do you do what you love, it doesn’t seem like work. I am fascinated by these people and want to ask them how they and their passion met. Did they always know? Was it happenstance? Was it truly something they couldn’t turn away from, or was it a series of conveniences they decided to accept as passion?

Are these the same people that believe in love at first sight?

Because I don’t. I believe in attraction at first sight, or interest at first sight. I believe there can be an instant connection with another person. But true love, for me, lives in the intersection of right time, right place, and right person. A true love ménage a trios, in the spiritual sense.

And true love takes work to keep it true and to keep it love. It doesn’t just happen. This brings me back to passion. The nature of passion seems to be that all-consuming, sweep-you-off-your-feet, make-it-impossible-to-consider-any-alternative, type of experience. Passion announces itself. That idea of passion feels like “love at first sight.” If I don’t believe in love at first sight, can I believe in a passion that doesn’t appear as something I automatically know to be “the one?” Can passion be quiet and unassuming and gently push you forward, step by step? Or is it something other than passion if that’s what it is?

Does passion declare itself to me, or do I declare something to be my passion? And if it is the latter, how do I choose? I can talk myself into being passionate about the idea du jour. But I get bored easily, which makes me feel like it was faux passion.

I am completely ready to follow my passion and accomplish great things; I just need help figuring out which of my thoughts, ideas, and interests is my true passion. I know once I do there’ll be no stopping me. I just don’t want to make the wrong choice because the ideas not taken might feel left out and seek revenge.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Yay, I have followers! Feel free to tell your friends.

When I was a senior in high school, my English class was part American Literature and part “let’s explore who we are in the world.” I’m sure there was an official curricular title to that, but all I remember is choreographing a modern dance routine with a friend (she danced, I advised), and giving a presentation on right brain vs. left brain thinking. I went to a competitive high school and by that point in the year we’d all been accepted to college so it was probably a way to give us a break. Or maybe it was to torture our privileged selves so that we’d have something angst-ish to write about. Heeeeyy---lookie here! I am writing about it now, 21 years later . . . I guess this means they win.

Off and on I’ve looked for the level of truth in that to help me figure out what I’m supposed to be doing. I was not ready then to explore who I was in the world. Which is the whole point of high school, isn’t it? Back then I could just Be. But that class put the idea into my head that I was supposed to Be Something In the World. It just didn’t tell me how or what or where to look. Or how I would know when I found it.

I blame my resentment on the right brain vs. left brain theories. Every time I take any of those learning or work style tests (traditional right brain/left brain, Myers Briggs, etc.), I always test exactly in the middle. If there’s an axis, I’m as close to the cross point as the standard deviation allows. I think this means I am creative within clearly understood boundaries or I organize with a flourish. It means I can’t leave anything behind. Instead of not committing to anything, I want to do everything. And that gets tiring.

It also means I'm a highly competitive person tempered with enough insecurity to avoid outright competition with anyone but my own brain. I feel the tug of right brain creativity and left brain analysis on a regular basis. When I try to be free-flowing or follow my passion, I get lost (because free-flowing means no clear direction) or mired in the technicalities (because I whatever I do, I have to do it the right way). But when I make the smart, practical, left-brained decisions, I feel like I’m not living up to my potential. Up until now I feel like I’ve just been lucky—my life is good despite my lack of commitment to any one direction. I wonder just how amazing could I be if I just picked something to focus all my attention upon? (And the other side of that is “but what if I pick the wrong thing and I’m still great [of course], but I could have been even better if I picked the other thing.”)

I went to graduate school for 5 years (and I feel the need to add “part-time while working full-time, raising a toddler, and I had another baby in there, too” to make it clear that it took 5 years because I was ALSO doing, not ONLY doing). All along I was telling everyone what I would be when I grew up because that was the point of going to school in the first place. Two years out, I see job postings for that career and pray there’s something about it that makes it clearly the Wrong Job for Me. I just can’t admit I don’t want to be that anymore. I try to see it as another step on the journey. And I try to be ok with that now because years ago a friend helped me be ok with a different focus shift by pointing out if I was miserable on the journey, maybe the destination was wrong.

I mostly enjoy the journey, but I envy people who enjoy the journey, get to their stated destination, and stay there long enough to see what else can happen.