There’s a lesson seared in my memory that has helped to shape who I am and redefine my responsibilities as a mother and my role as a partner to my husband.
First let me share, if you haven’t already figured it out, I am an organizer. I believe everything, and I mean everything, has a place. I despise clutter of any kind. Furthermore, I strive to have most horizontal surfaces in my home, the kitchen in particular, to be free of unnecessary stuff. This means no random junk mail, no misplaced dishes, no out-of-date magazines or newspapers. To name only a few things I consider room chaos.
Now, please don’t form the wrong impression of me. Truly, I am a laid-back, go-with-the-flow individual. However, like most, I do have my “buttons.” Mine is disorder. “Mess” to me brings about uneasy feelings. Also, realize when I am in someone else’s home that does not share my anti-clutter philosophy, I do not make judgments of any kind. Like everything else in life, we all have our likes and dislikes, situations we tolerate, and others we find intolerable.
So this brings me to the pivotal lesson I learned over twenty years ago. A dear friend was over to my home to have coffee and to help plan a wedding shower for a mutual pal of ours. Now is the time to mention that this friend, Lynn, is a licensed and well-respected psychologist, specializing in assisting children with anxiety. I will also add that Lynn is very observant, which is the reason she is truly remarkable in her profession. Furthermore, she is one of my dearest friends where the foundation of our relationship is trust and honesty.
Lynn and I were in the middle of creating a guest list for the get-together we were planning when she casually placed her flip-flop-clad feet on my coffee table. I looked up from my list of party invitees, my mouth gaping in disbelief. Lynn responded to my nonverbal shock: “It REALLY bothers you that I put my feet on your table? Doesn’t it? You’re totally distracted by my feet on your coffee table, aren’t you?”
“Well, I believe feet don’t belong on tables of any kind,” I responded.
“Instead of this situation, what if I had tossed my coat onto your entry floor when I arrived,” Lynn continued. Then she said, “Look at your home, everything is neat and tidy, everything in its place. You even have untouched vacuum lines in your carpet.”
I was without words.
“I say this with love, my dear friend, if you don’t relax a tad with your “standards” your kids will be on a therapist’s couch by the time they are eight years old.”
At first, I felt attacked by Lynn’s comments. Even offended. However, over the next handful of days, my thoughts were hijacked by her observations. I started asking myself questions:
· Am I over-the-top with my “everything has a place” standard?
· Do I cause anxiety in my home?
· Are my children affected by my need for order?
Just the fact that I was asking myself these questions made me realize “I was obligated to check myself.” I knew I needed to work on myself.
That same evening I surveyed my home, as I usually do, before I headed to bed for the night. My cherubs left their school backpacks slung onto the back of a kitchen chair. My husband left a half-filled coffee mug next to his computer. And the living room carpeting was shadowed with footprints! Gasp!
I decided to walk away and let the situation remain. I did not move the backpacks to the mudroom hooks, nor did I remove the mug from my husband’s desk and place it in the dishwasher, and I left the vacuum cleaner silent, leaving the footprints in the carpet.
The next morning, my husband packed-up his briefcase before leaving for work. Surveying his workspace, to make certain he didn’t leave anything important behind, he noticed his mug filled with stale, now cold, coffee. He quickly grabbed it and placed it in the dishwasher. My children managed to find their backpacks even though they were not stowed in their customary location. And somehow I had managed to survive without waking-up to neat lines groomed into the carpet.
Over the next several weeks, I worked on changing my habits. My kid's rooms became somewhat cluttered, without my daily intervention. My internal rule had dramatically changed: If I didn’t see pests or rodents nesting where my kids' sleep AND there were no unpleasant odors escaping from behind their bedroom doors, I was somewhat relaxed with the situation. Now I would be fibbing if I thought the situation was ideal, but I forced myself to focus on other things. Closing doors, keeping the chaos out of sight, helped significantly.
What I did notice was a more relaxed environment that was a product of my “self-check.”
A few weeks later, Lynn visited again to help accomplish more baby shower planning. Half-way through our meeting, I finally blurted “Do you notice anything different?”
Without missing a beat, Lynn responded “You mean the footprints in the carpet? Yep, I noticed.” And she smiled.
Lynn and I chatted about the children she has as patients that are consumed by anxieties that negatively impact their lives. Many times these behaviors are initiated by the hang-ups of their parents. These might include fears, controlling mannerisms, obsessive wants, to name only a few. Some are minor, others can be sincerely troublesome. She then congratulated me for wholeheartedly embracing “her words of love” and initiating a “self-check” of myself.
Lynn’s words were not critical nor mean-spirited. They were, in fact, words of caution. I consider them a gift.
We all have “buttons.” When these life demands start negatively affecting the ones we love, we must admit to ourselves that a problem exists. Take time to sincerely analyze if your habits are healthy for you and for others. And if a friend gently reminds you of priorities, as Lynn did for me, lower your defenses and consider it a gift and a reflection of a strong friendship.
Remember, you are first and foremost a role model to your children. If they witness you “self-checking” and addressing potentially harmful behaviors, they will become students of this same healthy exercise.
Be open-minded. Change is never easy. However, you and your family are worth the work.
Trust me. I know.
Thank you, Lynn. I couldn’t ask for a better bestie.
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