I genuinely like you, which is precisely why I can’t open my front door to you. And no, it’s not because my place resembles a tornado aftermath—unless, of course, you’re cool with that. Would a chaotic home indicate that I’m comfortable around you? Maybe it would signify that my life is just as messy as yours, and that I’m prioritizing memories over appearances. A sign that I, too, am only human and not some relentless cleaning machine?
Did you nod along to all that? Well, surprise! You’re still not getting in! Here’s the truth: my home isn’t cluttered. Not even a little. But let me clarify: it’s not because I’m more organized or superior to you. It’s not about giving the impression that I’m flawless or that I have it all together.
The reality is that when my sink is overflowing with dishes or the laundry piles up, I literally can’t breathe. If I can’t breathe, trust me, nobody wants to be around me. My anxiety ensures that. So, yes, I have a routine I stick to morning and night, and even sometimes in between. But it’s not for you; it’s for my own peace of mind. I feel my best when things are in order.
When my surroundings are in disarray, I spiral into chaos. I become unfocused, irritable, and unproductive. The world starts to close in, and if I don’t tackle the mess immediately, I panic. I fear I’ll never catch up, and everything will feel permanently out of place. When I’m scrubbing the floors, I’m really cleansing my mind.
Is it strange that I find joy in the scent of bleach and organizing my closet? Perhaps. But I promise, I don’t have it any more figured out than you do. I have my share of messy days, too, where I might be in pajamas and my hair is unkempt.
You don’t need to hide your home from me just because mine is tidy. My anxiety is confined within my own walls, while yours doesn’t bother me at all. So, you do what feels right for you, and I’ll stick to my routines. That’s the beauty of friendship—embracing each other’s quirks and differences.
As for creating memories, rest assured that my kids are still having their share of fun. We might tackle one toy bin at a time, but we go on plenty of outdoor excursions, bake together, and craft (just not with glitter; I can’t handle that!). Often, they won’t even notice me tidying up behind them.
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In summary, while my home may be tidy, it’s not a reflection of superiority; it’s a necessity for my mental well-being. We all have our unique ways of coping, and that’s what makes friendships special.