Having a clean room isn’t a failure or task that I feel is something to “mess up,” yet it is a state of disarray that I tend to flog myself internally for when it begins to happen.
I am painfully aware that the internal state of our clutter often will find it’s way to the external zones or our lives. When my pants lie on the floor for more than a few days, and are then joined by several of my sweatshirts and my piles of weird art supplies and thousands of flying, disparate to-do lists—it’s a good sign to me that something is “up” psychologically and that if I let the clutter persist too long, my mental health will probably start to unravel a bit as well.
I also have another dirty little secret,
Which is that I kind of love when my room gets into a certain state of disarray when I’m in a creative sprint.
In an equal weight of acknowledging that clutter in the mind sometimes points to a lack of self care, I also tend to view the clutter as my ideas not being fully-baked yet. That of course I can’t clean up my room until my creative idea has fully gelled into the physical world. Of course there is chaos around me as I try to figure out where each individual piece goes! It’s exciting and feels like a strange game of chicken. What will become unbearable first? The clutter in my room, or the clutter in my head? Will I manifest my creative dream into reality or will the haunting pressure of my dirty laundry all over the floor cause me to halt the entire process and get my life back together—stunting the creative process?
I’d say this only really happens once a month, and lasts a few days at a time. It makes me thank god I’m still single and not co-habitating with anyone who would get annoyed at the way I preciously protect my mess when I’m in a creative boon. How can my embroidery floss cheer me on from my art desk when I wake up at 4:30 A.M. to working on writing prompt before my day starts if it’s neatly tucked away in a bag, and on a shelf?
You’re right.
It can’t.
So, while this morning, I’m begrudgingly picking up all twenty-seven sweatshirts I’ve left on the floor this past week, and about to go start a load of laundry, I know I will feel better once the room is tidy and shiny. I will probably even dust.
I am also whispering over my shoulder towards my creative side saying:
“Don’t give up! Don’t let the man get you down! You come back and create when you damn well please! You can wear the bossy and stuffy parts of her down if if you really want to! Viva la revolución!!”
This has been the March iteration of Our Dirtiest Word.
On the second Tuesday of every month substack segment, Our Dirtiest Word, is all about failure. We'll be exploring the story of something I ‘messed up’ in my life and what I learned from the process.