Over the last week or so I have allowed myself to escape into a world of creating things without placing bounds on myself or my environment. It was not until last Tuesday where I realized that my home, with scrap paper on the floor from collaging, markers and paint laid out across the table, and dishes in the sink (because I had been so submerged in creating) had for some time become a restrictive cage. It wasn’t evident until I began to create again.
Each day, I would typically hit the sheets having cleaned every dish in the sink or wiped every counter. My friends with small children had even mentioned jokingly a few times how my home was “not the place” to bring their small children. Riddled with fine glass vases along the tables and floors, not a thing out of place, void of chaos or too much noise although I am a mother of one; I realized that I had grown to desire minimal chaos in my home likely because of all the former years where relational trauma had stripped me of peace. I had even looked at some photos of how I had outwardly changed over the course of the last few years, opting towards black garments, muted clothes, and looks that told me not to make too much noise or take up too much space in the world. My home, though said to be a sanctuary, had for a few years now been a predictable space where things were intact (at least to my liking), too fragile to touch, and void of too much color. My life had become routine, safe, and not filled with too many surprises as a way to never sit with the unknown.
As a self-experiment of sorts, last week I allowed myself to hit the sheets having left dishes undone, scraps of paper on the floor, and art pieces I’d been working on waiting for me in common spaces. To my surprise, waking up the next morning to it all, everything was still alright in the world. I got to things as I felt the need and rewardingly, my week felt entirely full and refreshing. While I am sure I will still keep my cleanly nature, what the past week has taught me is that color, play, and letting down the walls of predictability is necessary for a life well lived. I also allowed myself to wear the things I haven’t worn in some time, piecing them with pops of color that asks why or inspiring me to go out and be up to something. I have been reminded that color and some sort of chaos is okay because it nurtures our perspective on peace. I have also been reminded that fragile things will break, so if and when they do, let them. It will all be just fine.
From my heart to yours, Q.