Spic & Span

i'm an emotional cleaner.

whenever things feel like they're fallin apart at the seems, or if there is somethin or someone i can't get out of my head. when i'm tryin desperately to make sense of somethin or if i'm upset/happy/frustrated/sad, it appears that the mop and broom and sponges are my go to.  some people look for a bag of chips or a carton of ice cream.  me? i'm tryna eradicate all dust bunnies

i've been tryin to sort through some rather complex and perplexin emotions recently. i'm at a place of confusion and hurt. i'm havin some self-doubt and that's the worse type of doubt anyone can have really. it questions your sanity to where you aren't sure of what you're thinkin or what you believe in anymore. so, i've been cleanin. it usually starts with an irresistible urge to wash the dishes.

 ALL OF THEM.  

dirty or clean, i fill up the sinks and go to work. the mindless motion of wash, rinse and  repeat slows down some of the noise and voices in my head. then i move onto the stove and counters. then the floor. you can see where this is goin, right?

i spent the weekend unpackin. i was sortin through and organizin the contents from boxes that i'd prepared to mail before i left home. bein in a new house i needed to find places for things with less space than before to accommodate them. although i'd lost some things durin the storms, i've realized that i still have quite a bit of stuff. but i digress.

the voices and things swilrlin around loudly in my skull are there because i haven't quite come to the place where i want to talk about them.  sure, i've had some discussions with some people that matter to me, but the intensity of the things needs more attention. add also to the fact that i've pretty much been in hidin and no one really knows where i am and it makes it even more challengin to sort through what/how i'm feelin. i'm anxious. i'm worried. i'm annoyed. conflicted. confused. troubled. angry. hurt. resentful. disappointed. and so on and so on and the list grows and grows with each passin day. one day at a time and all that, but for me it's more like one hour, one minute. one thirty second period . . .

cleanin up is usually soothin for me. it's the physical act of cleansin; i feel like as i remove dirt or grime or grease from somethin, i'm also takin it away from me. i'm gettin rid of the clutter in my head or heart that is makin my life feel messy. i'm creatin a clear space for somethin new to inhabit by removin debris and junk and trash. it usually works. this time, not so much.

so, i dust. i mop. i fold. i sweep. i wash, rinse, repeat until my fingers are all wrinkled and my polish is chipped and my hands reek of bleach and pine sol. but the noises quiet down and the voices are silenced and i don't feel like my chest is goin to explode.

for now anyway . . .