It’s been a month since I moved to the new address in Utsjoki. For the first two weeks, things were pretty blissful as there was almost no furniture – just me and the two cats. After the moving van brought all of our belongings on 20th, my whole world caved. The constant mess drove me up the wall. I found myself in tears on a daily basis. A regular person possibly would not have found it so stressful, but when you have OCD and cleanliness is a must… well, it just got too much and I found myself sitting outside on the terrace, wishing the air would return to my lungs.
The house (outside of the bedroom) is now immaculate. My husband’s family’s photos are on the wall and his clothes are in different cupboards, sorted into colour and work/casual purposes.
My own clothes are all hanging in the walk-in wardrobe, buried behind the remaining five boxes to be unpacked. The only problem now is that there is no room left to put things. Everything has its place, and I have an image in the back of my mind where the three remaining gaps are, with empty storage boxes waiting.
Today, I will finally sort that all out, and have decided to sort through the too-many-clothes and too-many-items which we don’t need so that we can give them to charity. Almost all of my winter wardrobe can go, since I don’t go outside any more except to check the mail or sweep the leaves off the terrace or front porch. Voicing my psycho-babble seems to be helping, even if just in blog format, since nobody in Utsjoki (except for my husband) signs with ASL. When I am home alone, I voice chat to my cats and it seems to soothe them, although I have no idea if my neighbours are irritated by the Deaf woman who (possibly) talks too loud during the day when addressing her feline companions.
Looking at the not-mess today in the house gives me a major happy. No mess, no dirt, no dust. Just cleanliness as far as the eye can see. I guess I had best get into these final boxes in the walk-in robe, even if just to see my own clothes again. The only difference between today and all of the other unpacking days is that today, I truly have hope that our home will actually look lived in and presentable when I am done.
Living with PTSD, Agoraphobia with Panic Disorder and OCD is a toxic combination at the best of times, but at the worst of times…
Here’s to better, anxiety-free days.