Housekeeping

Time for emotional housekeeping. I need to organize the crap in my head and need Martha Stewart to provide the pretty little boxes to put things in.

These past five months have been all about emotions. It’s been hard to keep them in check, both good and bad ones, and there have been an abundance of both. And you, dear readers, have experienced them right along with me.

But I can only allow these emotions to run rampant so long before they have to be corralled and wrestled into something less disorganized. I could get away with being overly emotional only so long before even I’m sick of myself. So I thank those of you who have been holding my hand and my heart all the way along.

So I need to take all the confusing, conflicting thoughts and feelings and put them in a red box so I can find them when I’m ready to look at them one at a time and figure out what they mean and where they should go from there.

I need to take all the hurt and wounds and injuries and heartache and put them in the oversized wicker basket, making sure that the lid is on tight and nothing can escape. Those are to be exhumed and examined at a much later date, when distance and time and healing will make it safer to open that lid and let the demons come out. For now, that one goes in the back of the closet, and everything gets stacked up on top of it.

And then the pent up frustration and anger and bitterness can be slid into that flat wrapping paper type of storage container and hid under the bed, lurking with the dust bunnies, waiting for the right time to be let loose and destroy the world, or at least become focused and purposeful and specific.

Then there is the glass case, the one to hold the misplaced and misguided affection, the passion and the desire, all those feelings that were put away in a mess over the past few months, sloppily hidden and tentatively secured. These are the hardest ones to put away because many of them are still very strong and very visceral. They don’t want to hide in a case, they want to be unleashed, uncorked, allowed to be free and to be delivered to whoever they want to be delivered to, no matter what the mess, no matter what the consequence.

Then there are a ton of little, tiny enamel boxes needed to file away all those other unspecified things that aren’t all that big, aren’t all that easily defined, aren’t all that simply hid. I might need a whole lot of those.

Hopefully, this will give me some new space to find new emotions, new loves, new passions and even new anger. Open spaces in my head and heart and soul to allow me to go into the New Year with clarity and focus, to find my path, explore the possibilities and be able to maybe, just maybe, find a new love and a new life without complications… or at least with fewer complications. And to continue to allow me to enjoy and embrace the loves and the friends and the pleasures already around me.