Start with the Heart

The hangers were all the same and lined up evenly-spaced between the color- and style-sorted shirts that were hanging on them. Shoes that weren’t worn often were removed from the tidy shelf where only my favorite choices were allowed to stay. The bed was made like a housekeeper had been there and nothing was out of place. I dressed in the quiet of the morning, the only sounds were the birds outside the window perched on the lilac bush. The peaceful stillness wouldn’t last but the noise that was coming would be welcomed. As I sat down at the counter with my morning steamed chocolate, I opened my planner, which I already knew was full of just the right number of activities and tasks to keep me on track but not so much to push me over the edge with anxiety and overwhelm. I emptied the dishwasher from the dishes that washed overnight and began preparing breakfast for my children, who were in their rooms getting dressed. The sounds of their feet pounding down the stairs filled me with gratitude because my heart ached for the bang of the feet that were not coming.

The kitchen was my safe space, the heart of our home. Where we made meals, talked about the day, where little chins rested on little arms while big eyes watched the magic of meals come together. I couldn’t get enough of spending time in the kitchen with my family, and that meant everything in there had to make life easier, flow smoother, and stay organized. There was just enough time to put away the load of laundry in the dryer while the kids ate. I had learned long ago that it was best managed by not combining and sorting. One basket for each family member, and each had a night that their load was started, to be put away in the morning. Having only one type of sock, all white, made matching easier, and all tops got hung, bottoms folded. It only took a few minutes to handle each morning and it pushed the chaos away. I knew as long as I kept the balls in the air they would continue smoothly circling. The breakfast dishes were rinsed right away and put in the dishwasher, the backpacks that were hanging on the wall by the garage door would be the last things grabbed after a family prayer to guide us throughout the day.

It wasn’t always like this, and it wasn’t perfect, but it worked. The not-so-distant past was filled with turmoil, heartbreak, loss and grief, chaos, disarray, and constantly feeling like we were choking. But for them, for my sweet and wild angels, I knew we had to get it under control. It wasn’t stuff that needed to be organized to solve the problem, it was thoughts, feelings, experiences. The clutter in my head was what had to be cleaned out before anything in the house could be tackled. When the pain and disappointment and unfairness of life is pushed aside over and over until it explodes, it bleeds into the house and tasks get ignored, feeling like burdens too heavy to bear. There were nights of no sleep, bad sleep, and too much sleep. There were days of doing nothing but staying in bed and barely remembering to eat just enough to not need a hospital. Too much money was wasted on no one knows what and accountability of all sorts went out the window.

During that time, tempers were short and tantrums were long. The cloud that hung over was hurting everyone. Things were frequently broken or lost, bills were missed, and really honestly nothing felt like it mattered. It seemed like the intrusion happening in my head was causing physical pain as well, as I couldn’t do much or last long before I had to rest. But those little faces, those tiny hearts, those soft little arms around my waist, they needed more from me. It wasn’t their fault, and it wasn’t their responsibility to fix, and it wasn’t fair to them. I knew it had to change. I knew that they deserved to have as much wholeness as possible and that it was on me to give that. I had to be and do better than what I had. It was time to break generational cycles and put an end to little ones being buried in someone else’s trauma. I was responsible for setting the pace for their future. I had given myself the grace to survive. But then it was time to grow.

It didn’t get better overnight but one little step at a time I learned to clear the anarchy in my mind. It took therapy, friends, family, self-care, self-love, and knowing that not only are they worth this effort, but that I am also. And if I don’t fight for me, and I don’t fight for them, the trail of trauma will continue and I can’t have that. So, I keep doing the work to organize my brain, so I can have a house of order and peace and we can cut the binds that have held back my ancestors from doing the same. Finding the right person and the right style to therapy and not giving up on that is daunting but crucial. Learning what makes you feel alive, what brings light to your eyes and glow to your cheeks is just as important. For me that looked like a weekly bath soak, addressing medical issues that were interfering with sleep, eating well and increasing movement a little at a time, filling my counters with flowers and my home with beauty. Honoring my body improved my mind. Each step toward wellness was like putting glue on my life and my house.

And now, several baby steps later, we are able to get through new challenges and trials because the effort to treat my mind has turned into order and organization in our home. I’ve learned that everything needs a place, to minimize and limit consumption, that if something doesn’t seem to fit anywhere then it’s a sign to let go of it. I use as many shelves and containers and trays as needed to make sure things are not stacked or difficult to get to. When you can easily reach and use what you need it is easy to put it away when you’re done. Anything that feels too heavy to keep giving energy to no longer has a place. Allow people to help, allow love to be received, allow hope to be felt. Build fences but not fortresses. Balancing routine and structure with flexibility and spontaneity and putting enough into maintaining order but not so much that I aim for perfection, and treating my mind and body with as much importance as my closets and floors, has helped me find my way to a home of peace and contentment where my little family can blossom. Our spring cleaning is in our hearts.

Get right in the heart,

Get right in head,

Get right in the home.