my landfill

i'm not a neat person-i'm not dirty, but i'm just not particularly organized (some things, like my closet, are very organized, to the point that every item is hung in the same direction, in particular shades and particular fabrics, etc.). my apartment is continually messy no matter how many times i clean it up. D has thrown his hands up in dispair, and thinks that like the phoenix, i need to burn the place down and start anew. the mess just doesn't bother me. i remember where i put 99.9% of things, and the other .01% is ususally staring me in the face.

i think that my compulsion to be messy was about boundaries and space issues, but i've realized that's not really the entire current explanation. my new thinking is a retake on the idea that if you can't be organized and control your living space, you can't be organized and in control of your personal and professional life. for me, i think part of me doesn't want to be clean and organized in my living space because then i would have to confront the chaos that is my family's current situation, and that simply is not clean-up-able. it is such an overwhelming situation, and if i come home to a neat and orderly place, where every surface is bare and the place feels sterile, then i'll feel even more like the situation is out of control . what happens when your living space is orderly, and the rest of your life remains unbalanced?