Making Messes...

Keri Smith is this amazing author, illustrator, and most of all artist who creates books that inspire.  I loved Living Out Loud and anyone who loves creativity should definitely check it out.  She has a new book out, Mess, which I am sure she created with me in mind.  I love to create, but I hate making messes.  Rather, I hate cleaning up messes.  This book is a how-to in creating messes - the fun kind!  I think I will have to start dropping birthday hints to Kyle so I can get a copy of Mess sooner. Check out what Ms. Smith has to say about her new book here.

While I sat at my computer reading about Mess and thinking about the genius behind it, I realized how hard it is for me to let go and just create without thinking about tidiness and neatness.  I was excited at the prospect of Mess because it would give me permission to make a mess.  How sad is it that I feel like I need approval to make a mess?  It's that part of my personality that's a little obsessive-compulsive.  I definitely have trouble when everything is out of order and not in its proper place.  I have trouble getting down and dirty and enjoying my stamping, scrapbooking and cardmaking because in the back of my mind a little voice is saying, "You're going to have to clean that up!"  It's time for me to start shouting back, "So what?!" (Disclaimer:  I'm not really hearing voices.  Really.)

Why do I feel like every part of life has to be in its place all the time?  Why do I freak out at the thought of scrubbing up ink or vacuuming up scraps of paper?  It's not as if my house is always spotless or we never make a mess.  With a puppy and a hubby, there are plenty of messes to clean up on a daily basis.  So why does the excitement of creating get undermined by my fear of disarray?  What is it all really about? 

See, this is what happens when one spends 42 days in treatment.  You start analyzing every little aspect of your life and seeking out the "core issues" that are behind your behaviors.  It's a little funny but a little life-altering, too.  Introspection gives me the chance to ask myself what is working and what isn't, and of course, always "why?"  What is it about neatness that is so blissfully calming to me? 

It comes down to security and a sense of control.  I'm a control-freak.  I like to know who-what-where-when and why.  I want to have everything written in ink in my planner. I don't like surprises. I don't like the unexpected.  I want to be prepared for everything so that I can tend to it with poise and grace and dignity.  I don't want to be caught off guard, appear shocked or, heaven forbid, unprepared.  It comes from growing up in a household with few rules and a lot of changes.  It comes from a desire to always appear to be in control.  It is a false comfort.  It gives me a false sense of security.  Because my house is clean, organized and - well - perfect, then I can be, too.

Perfect.  Another false comfort. Because after all, who is perfect?  No one.

I've long felt that I have to be perfect.  In order for people to like me.  In order for people to need me.  In order for people to want me.  In order to be worthwhile, important, and necessary, I had to do everything perfect and be perfect.  It's exhausting. 

My (early) birthday wish for myself is this:  Be okay with the mess.  Be okay with the little messes, like chewed up paper on the living room floor.  Be okay with big messes, like the backyard after a windstorm.  Most of all, be okay with me.  Remember that the condition of my kitchen or my car or my bathroom has nothing to do with, and is in no way a reflection of, the person I truly am or can be.  It is my hope that in celebration of my birthday I can make a big mess - maybe I'll throw confetti on myself and wait until tomorrow to clean it up.  Maybe I'll get all my stickers, markers and glitters out and pick my favorites and plaster them all over my planner or a favorite notebook cover.  Perhaps I will bake sugar cookies and make wild colored frosting and decorate cookies with the passion of a five year old.  Whatever the activity, that is the key - with the passion of a five year old.  Five year olds love making messes.  Nothing has triggered them to believe that making a mess is anything other than a perfect way to spend an afternoon. And that is why five year olds are perfect - they love being themselves.  I've just got to find the ways to love being my self.