Challenge: STEW ON THIS for Monday, December 12, 2011: "Whenever I come across clutter, the energy field is unmistakable. It presents an obstacle to the flow of energy and has an unpleasant, sticky, unclean feel to it, as if I'm moving my hands through unseen cobwebs. This is what made me realize clutter causes problems in people's lives. [Clutter] creates stuckness and/or confusion in the lives of the occupants." Karen Kingston, "Clean Your Clutter with Feng Shui: Free Yourself from Physical, Mental, Emotional, and Spiritual Clutter." Describe cleaning your clutter.
My apartment is cluttered. I am not disorganized, lazy, or a procrastinator. I simply do not like a perfectly clean living area; it freaks me out. Why? With all of the research done today showing that a clutter free living space leads to a clutter free life, why would it be the opposite for me? Well, the answer is as complex as it is simple. The trauma I endured as a child was inflicted by someone who was a complete neat freak. Her house smelled like Lysol everywhere and all the time. "A home for everything and everything in its place". I still can't stand the smell of Lysol, it sends me into panic attacks. Unfortunately, I spent a lot of time at that house, and since I was only a child, I tended to forget to put away my crayons right after using them, I'd forget to take my shoes off when I came in from outside, etc. The result was not pretty, and I'm not going into details now. I don't want to think about them, and I'm sure you don't want to read about them.
So now, on the rare occasion that I do have to get everything put away and make my apartment nice and tidy and looking as though no one lives here, I feel like I'm six years old again. I find myself afraid to set anything down in the "wrong" place. I can't sleep until I've straightened everything up. I have nightmares about my abuser.
Don't get me wrong, my apartment is not filthy, just messy. I dust and throw out my garbage and I shuffle things around so I can vacuum the carpets. I don't trip over anything except my cats when I walk around at night. And as for books, if there is any chance at all that I will read them again, they stay. Torn covers, food stained pages, and broken spines show that a book is cherished; a bit like the Velveteen Rabbit.
My apartment is cluttered; which is exactly the way that I like it.
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