About Beginning

I wanted to start this phase of the journey (the blogging, the public admittance, the cataloguing of successes and pitfalls...) a month ago when A Chair Is sprang into existence. It seemed the right time, and it seemed an approachable format.

And then I got injured. I sprained my knee on the ski slopes, and it has been a long and tedious process of healing.

This past month I have had opportunity to sit on the couch and notice how deeply the visible clutter bothers me when there is nothing I can do to change it. I have had the opportunity to trip over boxes and clutter because the footpaths I left for myself were sufficient when I was healthy but too narrow when I needed a cane to walk.

I have felt frustrated, incompetent, overwhelmed, sloppy, inadequate, dirty, greedy, gluttonous, afraid of letting things go, over-invested in the littlest of details, wondering whether I'm really "okay" after all.

I have felt sad, tired, hopeless, ashamed, embarrassed, guilty, and resigned.

I have watched helplessly as the daily chores pile up around me despite my housemates' help.

I have felt worthless, like a freeloader, slacker, lazy, stubborn, and apathetic

even though the primary barrier to my active impact on the problem has been (and to some extent still is currently) my injured knee.

I feel like I should be able to do what I envision just because I can envision it.
I fall short in putting in the time and effort.
Or sometimes I underestimate the time and effort required to achieve the results I insist upon.
Not just sometimes. Almost always. In everything that I do.

And normally, I can make a miniscule headway against my own current.

But not when I'm injured. When I'm injured, or sick, or out of town, or depressed, I backslide. And then I need to put forth double effort as soon as I'm on the mend just in order to catch up again.

I'm tired. I'm grumpy. I'm frustrated. I'm judgemental of myself.

I begin to feel that there is no way that my housemates could possibly be so kind and supportive through it all. I begin to wonder whether they're lying. I feel like I could not possibly put up with it this long, so how could anyone else?

I avoid inviting friends over because I feel like they will not be comfortable. I have to clear my current project(s) off the couch just to invite them to sit. I know that I will not be comfortable because I will see all my clutter with frightened eyes, wondering whether I am being judged, wondering if my friends are thinking "how can she live like this?" because it is what I ask myself every morning when I open my eyes and see the clutter beside my bed.

My friends are kinder than I am. They insist that they see the changes in the content of the clutter. This month it's pysanky egg dying that is covering the kitchen table. Last December it was quilting. I don't see those things so well. I see that every day my kitchen table is covered with Something. I clean the previous thing off of it to make space for the new one.

I'm running beyond my capacity.

I need to slow down, and I don't know how.
Maybe I'm scared to be doing less.
I was always told "be the best you can be in everything you do." So my answer now is that "good enough" Isn't.
I get wrapped up in perfection.

Going through a box of papers is not a simple matter of throwing it all in the shredder bin or the recycle or trash. It's skimming each sheet to be sure there isn't something important written on it. It's transcribing old notes to new medium. It's setting up a filing system to keep track of the things I've decided to keep.

It's that level of perfection that makes me happy at the end of the day... It's looking at my CD rack and seeing it alphabetized, knowing each cd is in its proper sleeve, that the empty sleeves are in a separate stack each waiting for its cd to be returned, that generates a sense of calm and accomplishment.

Nothing less seems good enough. Anything less, and my eye is drawn to the flaw, the detail left unfinshed.

This week's challenge: Laundry.

While my knee has been injured, the laundry has been piling up. I've managed a load or two along the way, but the stairs involved have been hard on my knee, and the laundry has been accumulating faster than I have been able to put it through the machines.

Today's progress:

from

to


I got the laundry collected and sorted. (quite an accomplishment since it required kneeling which my knee is not yet ready for. ow.)

Each pillowcase holds at least one load, which means I have approximately 22 loads as of sorting.

I can hope to run two to three loads through per day if all goes well.

So I'm looking at a hopeful finish target of seven days, minimum.

There will be new laundry piling up on top of what I already have, and there will be days I don't manage the minimum number of target loads..

So I set a progress report date for next Wednesday, March 8.

Right now I feel: overwhelmed, sad, hopeless, frustrated, nauseous, inadequate, frightened.