I consider myself an organized person. I pack early, I have routines, I make lists, I clean and do laundry with glee. I even wash my floors with a toothbrush. Lately though, that status has been on thin ice since there is just so much to do. Work, yoga, life. I feel like an impostor, pretending to have her shit together.
I find cleaning very therapeutic and relaxing but there are days when it just doesn't feel like things are organized enough. I begin to chase this elusive idea of perfection - a true, organized shang-ri la, with lots of storage options. Then I realize how far away I am from this paradise and I become dissatisfied. I stress myself out at how much I need to do, then I'm embarrassed that I've even refer myself a neat freak. I go into depths of despair and begin baking copious amounts of chocolate for relief and just so I can justify my messy kitchen. Because you know, baking requires equipment and flour on the floor for it to be remotely tasty.
Then, of course, my sugar high sends me crashing down some rocky cliffs and I ultimately have to turn the dirty kitchen towel in and accept reality. I cry, sleep, or watch an episode of Hoarders to make myself feel better (seriously, anyone should feel cleaner after watching that show).
After some rocking back and forth in the corner, I pick myself up and clean again. Sometimes, I don't pick myself up until a week later. But I always come back guns blazing, or should I say, brooms blazing and I feel somewhat at peace again. What I've come to learn and accept is that, I may never feel completely satisfied that I've done enough.
And that maybe, it's the process itself that keeps me coming back for more.
Just like the sea. She comes crashing into the shore, pulled back by the ocean with her every effort. Yet, she never ceases to shape the earth, bring the wind with her, and wash away yesterday from the sand. I guess that's just how nature wants it to be.
In yoga, oh sweet, beautiful yoga! You fall out of the posture then you get right back in. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it's uncomfortable, but you always come back to your mat. Everyday, we try harder, push ourselves, and aim higher because we believe that eventually, in the future, we'll be able to touch the ceiling. Regardless what the laws of physics say.
We try and try, fall back down, watch bad reality television, fill ourselves with sugar til we get sick, then we get back up and try again. And perhaps, the perfection we seek actually lies in the process.
And maybe that's just how life is supposed to be.