But it's my blog - I can write whatever I want - it's your choice to read it.
My life is falling to bits around me. Not my soul, not my deeper sense - not yet. But my laundry and dishes, and the little dog hair dustbunnies that are EVERYWHERE. I long for order and neatness (it doesn't necessarily have to be clean) The comfort I get from a orderly and tidy "life" is capable of fueling almost everything else, or at least gives it a push in the right direction. Truth be told, I hate doing house work, and maintaining organization. Actually, not only do I hate it, but I generally suck at it too. But having it done, and keeping up on it is somehow intricately related to my wellbeing, like good Karma or Fung Schwai (sp?) The idea that if you are surrounded by beauty, and happiness, and peace it starts to blend into you, and it becomes a little easier to be beautiful and happy and peaceful.
It's always the first to go for me, the good vibes of my environment, but then everything else that is needed to make me a happy, well balanced, and successful person starts to follow... And that is where I am now... Holding desperately to the threads of my mental health, my walk with God, my relationship with my husband, and my studies.
All of that on the line, and all I can focus on is the dirty underwear on the floor, and the smelly dog blankets that need to be washed, and the pile of "stuff" sitting on my desk that has a place to be and just isn't there right now. The list goes on and on, sitting defiantly - a mockery of the destruction it is causing within me.
Now here is my biggest frustration, the worst enemy in this plight: It's ME. I have no problem identifying the issue, its fixing it I can't seem to manage. Its a cycle of sorts - I feel down and overwhelmed because of the mess, but I don't pick up the mess because I am too gloomy and emotionally fragile (which, hard as it is to fully understand has a direct effect on my physical energy levels) It seems so simple in words - empty the dishwasher, do a load of laundry, pick up the underwear. But that is where I struggle, I flounder, I drown under the weight of the waves. Perhaps I sound melodramatic, but the desperation is intense, the struggle is real, and I hate it - I hate myself for it. I have no one else to blame. If you don't like the state of things, Kristin - change it, or stop whining already! Why, oh why isn't it that easy...
Unfortunately this is one of the places in our lives where Q and I could have used a little more "different but complementing" personalities. Sadly, he is my greatest helper in trashing these physical aspects of our life, we are messy in different ways, but struggle with the organizing, cleaning, and upkeep almost identically. Where we are different, and this infuriates me to no end, is it doesn't bother him!! He can get up an be just as happy and peaceful and focused as always, even when there are poop streaks in the toilet bowl and no clean socks in the drawer. Sure he like a tidy house as well as the next guy but it doesn't eat at him, it doesn't wreak havoc on his soul, and I think he is only just beginning to understand how it leaves my own soul so vulnerable...

So, without further ado, my list:
Fold laundry
take pop cans to deposit
wash dog blankets and beds
organize and put away sewing stuff
vacuum and clean dog room
get dog food
replant cutting of tank plants
clean litter boxes
wash couch blankets
vacuum, dust house
mop dining room floors
throw out bad food in fridge
pick up dirty clothes in bathroom, bedroom, and study
clean out stuff from under bed and vacuum under there
load dishwasher
clean kitchen counters
throw out empty shampoo bottles
clean sink and toilet
clean the baseboards in bathroom
do towel laundry
do clothes laundry
organize school notebooks and tests
print notes for upcoming tests
take car in to get a new tire
clean out and tidy car
e-mail ARL about summer job
clip Jubilee's toenails
buy ink cartridge
organize the bathroom cupboards, and vanity drawers
get my eyebrows waxed and hair cut maybe?
unpack a still packed suitcase
go grocery shopping
call Clear Lake for summer reservations
take fecal sample to vet
replace light bulbs in bathroom
dust TV and computer
I'm sure there is more, I will have to update

This is how I have lived most of my adult life feeling. If I would give to you a brief summary of my self-sense, that’s it. I’m too much and not enough. High maintenance, if you will, without a lot of output in all of the wrong places. Too emotional, too needy, too sensitive, too strong, too passionate, too opinionated. Not happy enough, not kind enough, not motivated enough, not brave enough, not thin enough, not organized enough. The list goes on and on and on. It’s so hard to find and sustain meaningful relationships, I feel unseen, unknown, unsought, even to those closest to me. And the problem has always been me, I’m the problem: I’m too much and not enough. I can try harder or retreat deeper, and yet never fix the problem. But for the first time I am realizing that perhaps I am not the problem at all…
I have hundreds of ideas and thoughts rushing in and out of my brain. Colors and flashes, moments of brilliance and complicated pathways of hope and wonder. Every turn supplying new confusion and breakthrough, deep sadness, and great joy. I get lost so easily, so scared, and lonely. Everything is so deep, far far away, and so alluring. I couldn’t live on the surface of my existence even if I gave all of my ever fleeting energy to do so. The call, the possibility, the glory in the world of the spirit and the blend of the soul, I can’t deny it, I can’t avoid it, I am forever drawn. But with its wonder so comes confusion and emptiness. I long to share myself - the darkness and the light. I long to have someone come alongside in the adventure of my soul, the meaning uniquely my own, the something that I am almost certain of, at times, is a gift directly from the Creator himself… but in the depths of feelings and pains that I so easily lose control over, I sometimes doubt. Maybe though, that’s the key I have missed all along - maybe instead of being the roadblock, the thing keeping me from my heart’s desire, perhaps it is my gift, my essential beauty. If I can only be brave enough to embrace it. To be alone hurts so very much – it hurts more then anything else – but to ask for, to expect a partner in the turmoil, in the confusion, in the complicated and yet beautiful adventure… it has always been too much.
If I ever doubted the truth of that statement, the world enforces the sentiment daily. They push back, they hold off, back off, over and over again: “I’m not going there.” So often I have given in, I retreat, I go alone, I am alone, and I am sad and incomplete.
My husband is a gift, he is a fit for my life. I used to think in the dreamy honeymoon moments that he was a perfect fit. He’s not. But what I have learned, and am learning constantly, is that we fit enough, and we signed on for a lifetime of co-molding. I need him in my adventure, with all of its glory and horribleness, and I know the longing of his soul, I know his ultimate constant desire… but even he suffers the sin of the world, even he has known the impulse to back off, to stay at arms length, to not go there… And so we must mold where we do not fit. We have to seek our ultimate longing, and trust in that beyond the indoctrinated sins of this world. He must say, “I am coming with you to the depths, whatever that may bring – you are not too much to handle.” And I must say, “Please come with me to my depths – I am not too much to handle.”