I remember putting on my sundress over my clothes, shimmying it down around my waste, and declaring it my "apron" when I was around 3 or 4. I'd wear it while helping my mother clean, which consisted of taking every item out of her sizable sewing cabinet and replacing it in a nice neat order. It was one of my most fun activities.
I still get some sort of bizarre joy from things like that-cleaning out my dresser drawers, folding panties and bras, arranging them by type and color and replacing them neatly...rolling up my socks neatly, folding t-shirts and stacking them by color and type...lining up shoes on the floor of my closet by color and height...and yes, I inevitably know that I won't keep them that way. One hurried morning and the thongs are in with the granny panties and a pair of pumps is stuck inside a pair of boots. But, for a brief moment everything is tidy, and orderly, and contained...and that makes me feel good.
I kind of think of myself the same way. I try to keep my emotions and reactions tidy and in order, and I feel proud and happy when I keep myself in check for just a little bit. But, inevitably, something will happen and I'll let my ugly out...cry my eyes out when I see a Pampers commercial...act jealous when my guy's attention is not fully on me (even if it's totally justified)...say something snarky under the guise of "joking".
The truth is that things will always get messy-whether it's my skivvies drawer or my personal life. I have to learn to applaud myself for the moments I have it all together, but give myself permission to let things get messy occasionally.
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