Fuck Cleaning (A Reflection On The Things That Really Don't Matter)
I am reposting my own words because I am in need of this reminder today. An older iteration of me is hijacking my brain and pulling me back into past but deeply ingrained thinking and behavioural patterns that do not and will not serve me.
The compulsion to clean in order to present a perfect (there's that dangerous word again) and tidy living space is raging in me now that I know my father-in-law is coming to visit in a mere three days. I can imagine that familiar feeling of shame I have always felt when anticipating that a guest will see my mess, my imperfections.
As soon as I found out, I drew up a cleaning schedule for this week. I drew it up knowing that I honestly did not have the energy to safely do it all. I drew it up knowing, however, that I could still WILL myself to do it all, to my utter detriment.
Even today, I have been lying in bed for over three hours since awakening, too tired to get up, but spending that entire time thinking about how I was falling behind and how much I needed to get up to start cleaning.
But do I really NEED to clean?
Is having a messy house indicative of my worth as a person?
Will I be judged and perceived differently by someone else entering my space?
Perhaps. That part of the equation isn't up to me.
But what is up to me is knowing my truth.
If I were able-bodied, if the playing field were even, if I had ten useable hours in a day like a typical person compared to the thirty minutes I have now, then yes, my house would be cleaner than it currently is.
But I will not heal if I do not accept all of me. So today, I accept my current limitations. I accept that I am in an energy deficit. I accept.
So here's to tearing up that cleaning schedule and learning to give zero fucks about the things in life that do not truly matter.