In trying to understand myself better and trying to be better able to explain myself to others, I try to observe my behavior and label it. I investigate the reasoning behind my behavior. What was I feeling? Why was I overwhelmed? One thing that I believe reflects my emotional and mental state is: my room.
When my life makes sense to me and is the way it should be, my room is perfect. Cleaning comes easily. Every time a mess is made, it’s cleaned up before I climb in bed. Everything has a place and everything is in it’s place. The surfaces of my room are dusted and shine (mostly hard wood). My bed is made and my clothes are folded and put away. My clothes for the next day are either physically or mentally lain out before I go to sleep. My books are all in place on my bookshelves except for the one I am currently reading, which resides on the nightstand beside my bed (that is, of course, when it is not in my hands). That is what my room is like when I’m content, happy, and calm. That is what my room is like when I feel emotionally in control. That is what my room is like when everything is going well in my life.
When my life does not make sense and is not going as it should be going, my room is messy. Every time I attempt to clean, I come close to a meltdown for no apparent reason or I just close my door and leave because I can’t focus on the cleaning at hand. Everything has a place, but everything is not in it’s place. The surfaces of my room are dusty and cluttered. My bed is unmade and my clean clothes are piled on my desk chair. In the mornings, I search through the pile of clothes for whatever looks clean and matches (even though I know that the clothes in that pile are clean). I have books piled on my desk, bookshelf, floor, and nightstand, even if I’m not reading all of them. That is what my room is like when I’m stressed, confused, and overwhelmed. That is what my room is like when I do not feel I am emotionally in control. That is what my room is like when everything in my life is not going well.
At the moment, my room is messy. Maybe it’s because I’m stressed. Maybe it’s because my routine was thrown off about 2 months ago and I’m still reeling from it. Maybe it’s the empty, pointlessness that my life seems to have become. Maybe I’m feeling a new emotion that I’ve yet to label with a word. Maybe my mind is just cluttered, disrupting my focus. Something is amiss in my life. I’ve yet to figure out what it is, but when I do, I’ll fix it right away. I don’t like having a messy room.