Cleaning

I have an obsessive need to clean. This is not like me, the usual me. I am told it is because this is one small corner of my universe that I can control. So much of my life is in disarray, but to some extent I can control the cleanliness of my physical environment. Every morning and every evening I mop, scrub and polish. I sort, move and discard. I can keep this up for some time, I think. I have too much stuff. Colby had way too much stuff. Of course many of his piles were for re-homing, to renew and find homes for items that still had some life in them. He just never got around to it.

Colby was not by any means a "neat" person when it comes to cleanliness and orderliness. Much of that was due to his dysgraphia. This is difficulty in writing, but also affects knot tying skills, math calculation, and thinking and being orderly. Organizing a drawer was beyond Colby, so you can imagine the "orderliness" of his room, and of the basement, where much of his "stuff" lives.

I tell myself I have to stop cleaning at a certain time. I have other things I must do. But every morning and every evening I go past my time limit. Way past. I go through all my cleaning supplies. Then I buy more. Enough. For now. I turn to my long work "to do" list. If I get started on one project, maybe I can become as engrossed in it as I am cleaning. Then I realize that by immersing myself in cleaning, or in work, I am fillig my mind with the task at hand, and that effectively blocks out scary thoughts of a future without my son, without a family. So I work. Hard. I don't think. I just be. For now it is a coping skill that will get me through to the next phase. Maybe. In the meantime, I am productive and that is good.