Cleanliness

"Cleanliness is next to godliness." I have always hated this saying, ever since I was a child. I honestly have no clue who first said it and have never much cared because I wholeheartedly disagree with it regardless. At least in regards to housekeeping.

I am not a clean person or, rather, I am not the type of person who can easily keep their surroundings clean especially in my own space. Cleaning can, on occasion, cause intense anxiety and stress. It is not that I cannot clean it is that I do not like to. Growing up, cleaning was never a family activity and our home was not kept very clean and so cleaning days were a time of stress and anxiety. Unfortunately that stress and anxiety grew with me and so cleaning became a necessary evil instead of a gratifying necessity.

Even more unfortunate is that the lack of cleanliness became a sense of shame. I would hate having people come over, I wouldn't invite friends over and even when family visited our home I just wanted them to leave. I was ashamed of the state of my home and I didn't want others to see it. I pushed them out and isolated myself.

I still isolate myself and keep people out. Even when my home is clean I don't want others to come in, "Leave me alone, get out!" is what my brain says.

I want to change that and I know that it won't be a quick process to change. To begin, I am going to be honest about my housekeeping skills, my personal ability to keep things clean, as it has been the main cause of much of my anxiety in the past.

It is time that I am honest about my reality (and show off my apartment, finally).

This is about the view from my kitchen door/front door area.

And here is the view of my living room and front door.

Here are a few pictures of my kitchen. Note the covered table, the open cabinets and the box that has been on the floor for about 5 days.

Next is my bathroom. The floor is swept about 3 times a week (same days that I scoop the cat box) and the box is emptied about once a week but the counter is covered with stuff in a disorganized sprawl.

My spare bedroom (and hopefully my eventual office/workout zone if I can ever buy the rest of the furniture) is basically just a place where I am storing boxes until I feel like breaking them down and carrying them to the dumpster. Not pictured: my desk.

My bedroom is minimally furnished (bed, dresser, nightstand) but still manages to be a little bit messy.

This is my life.
It is normal and it is okay.