It had reached the point where there was no use tidying up in my room. Wardrobe was irreversibly floordrobe and I can say without a shadow of a doubt this mess has been probably the truest reflection of the state of my mental health.
No matter the outward control – I have mastered my emotions to no longer be too distressed at the voices I hear, I have retained rational thought enough to appear unaffected by paranoia.
But finally, last night I had a eureka moment.
This room houses too much in too small a space to ever be able to clear it.
No longer. I’m going for a short weekend away, and upon my return I am taking all my clothes out of my room. These are the things I am emotionally attached to, I wear them to enforce the person I need to be when I need to be her and with them packed away in a suitcase I will have the freedom to sort through and throw out the junk that sits underneath.
I can’t wait, if I pull this off it will be transformative, a new beginning and this little caterpillar will have become a butterfly.
Like all transformations it has been a painful process, and has required more than a little ego death.