I am a slob!
And no, it is not an acronym for anything.
Mommy Darling, sister B, sister C, da Bruvva- stop nodding your heads and wipe those smirks and knowing grins off of your faces IMMEDIATELY! Yes I know- it’s been bad, and believe me you have never seen the worst of it, no-one has. And yes- once I was prepared to be the butt of the joke rather than bother to clean up. I have decided that you may not laugh at me anymore.
Honestly- I am really battling to write this. It sounds pathetic but there really is a humiliation induced lump in my throat right now. And I was determined while writing it to actually post it because it’s kind of therapeutic . . . you know the cliché- the first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem.
So here goes.
Hello. My name is Angel and I have a problem.
You want to know how big a problem?
I literally cringe at the merest hint of someone coming to visit me. I will stay out all weekend and all night to avoid going home to the mess . . . which of course just continues to get worse BECAUSE I’m staying away. I will spend a fortune on fast food so as not to add to the sink full of dishes already waiting for me. I usually have loads and loads of dirty washing to do- and I buy new sheets rather than wash the ones already in the washing basket. Hence I have loads and loads of lovely linen and towels too! I do the barest minimum of laundry- just so we can have work and school clothes and underwear and such . . . Daddy Darling has even commented to Mommy Darling that he wonders if my vacuum cleaner is broken, after he spotted dust-bunnies in my living room when they came to celebrate my birthday. And I thought I’d done enough to make it at least look like I cleaned regularly, including vacuuming! That made me so angry with myself that I cried for over an hour when I left Mommy Darling’s place after she told me. I wonder if she saw me blush. It’s a running joke in our family that I don’t WASH dishes- I WATCH them. Yes, I’m being dead serious.
Okay, you can shut your mouth now.
And then I found FlyLady.net. Feel free to Google it because I STILL haven’t worked out how to put links in my posts! To put it plainly- I am living in CHAOS, which according to FlyLady, stands for “Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome”. And according to FlyLady, I am defined as a “Payroll SHE” (a SIDETRACKED HOME EXECUTIVE who works for an income) because I’m not an SAHM or a WAHM (STAY slash WORK AT HOME MOM). So I joined up. FlyLady then sent me a list of 31 Babysteps to get into a new routine of cleaning and tidying up. Granted- I have taken months just to get started on the babysteps, but I have started- to a degree.
The FLY in FlyLady stands for “Finally Loving Yourself”, and I realised- about a week ago- that I haven’t done that for a loooooong LONG time. And FlyLady says that what your home looks like is a reflection of how you feel about yourself. Makes sense doesn’t it? I admitted to myself quietly that although I was dressed for work and I looked nice on the outside and I put on a brave face and all that (most of the time), I actually loath myself (most of the time). And the more I avoid looking at myself in the mirror- figuratively and literally- the more I loath what I have become. And now, being able to do things I actually enjoy showed me how much I’ve been missing. For example, I have been dressing for work- make up and all- for about a year now. I bought myself some beautiful new clothes and shoes. I didn’t do that for more than ten years. I like my job, my colleagues, my boss. I didn’t have that for more than ten years either. Having my own website; writing again; drawing again; photography. And going back to the gym; working normal hours; not working weekends. And actually looking at how much and how long I’ve been screwing around makes me want to start crying all over again.
So now I have started “Fluttering” to use FlyLady’s terminology, I doubt I’ll be FLYing for many a month yet- probably longer- but I have started.
Wish me luck and pray for me.
Give me a couple of months- and then I promise (I promised myself too) that you can stop by WHENEVER you want to!
There Is Never An Excuse
One in three is not a statistic - one in three is a crying shame.