Peace

I was at peace this morning, sitting in my living room. I have decided after all of my work with sorting and throwing away stuff, I needed a reward. My reward? To keep my living room clean. I'll like to add my foyer, too.


I have to tell you that I hate being home. I can never find anything so I try desperately to escape it. As a child, I remember spending a lot of time in and out of my friends' homes, but my children do not do that. We are constantly somewhere else. So, I want to find peace in my own home. And, thus, the clean living room and foyer.


After we shoved things in containers into the back room, I felt anxiety. I hated doing it. Then, we left the house. When we returned home, we walked into what appeared to be a clean home. It felt nice. It felt peaceful. I wanted to be in this home.


Many friends have suggested I just take all the stuff I have placed in containers and empty it into the garage. The problem with that would be that I'm afraid we'd never sort it. One friend said, "Then dump it, if it doesn't mean that much to you." there's a problem in that philosophy too. It's not that it doesn't mean anything to me (I know, excuse) but that I never seem to find time to get out to the garage. If it's not smacking me in the face, then I won't pay it mind. We have done that many times--shoving the stuff in containers and placing it out of sight. Ever heard of "Out of sight, out of mind"? That is how life works for me. I just have to juggle to much. But, if the stuff is something I trip over every day, even though I get high anxiety, I do eventually feel like I need to do something about it.


So, in the meantime, the stuff sits in containers in the back room where I will trip over it. But, my living room and foyer will be clean and welcome me home when I walk through my doors. Maybe my children will find peace in being home.