A Room of One’s Own.

I have a room of my very own. I’m okay sharing this with you. It’s like donating your body for science. It’s for a good cause. My room is gorgeous and sunny and bright and my husband made it just for me. It has a door and a love seat and a desk and a lovely chair. There is a 6 foot long transom window and there’s also a pretty rug. Doesn’t that sound nice? I also call this room “The room of shame, disappointment and failure.”

Shame, disappointment and failure. Those three words roll off my tongue. The room is full of dead people’s ashes, dead people’s papers and mail and things that need to be shredded. The room is full of things not said, things that should’ve never been said and a whole heap of things I wish I would’ve done. Like I said; shame, disappointment and failure. I know the room needs to be cleaned. I know I’m capable. I can do it. I don’t need a book on tidying to walk me through it. I just. Really. Don’t. Want. To.

I’m betting that many of us have a room. And if you don’t have a whole room, you have a crawl space, a closet, a box or maybe a very messy under the bed space. Someone died or someone left you or something happened and you’ve packed it all away like if you don’t see it, it didn’t happen. It didn’t hurt. I’m here to share that it doesn’t work that way. Not looking under the bed doesn’t mean there’s not a boogey man (I don’t know why he’s not a boogey woman but that doesn’t have the same ring to it) under there. It just means he’s waiting for you. Now what? Well, I can tell you one thing. You probably don’t need to go to the container store. We don’t need anther way to pack it all away. You probably need a shredder and a recycle bin and a garbage can. And here’s a hint: If you’re waiting to feel motivated, much like the “it” guy in junior high, you can let that dream go. You just have to do it. Nike got that right. Just do it. It will be hard and sad and it might make you mad but you’re already feeling that anyway. You’re just pretending you don’t.