Around the breakfast table at the diner this morning, one of our men mentioned that he once worked for a lady whose home was a mess. He explained that this lady had newspapers piled everywhere and unopened mail. He said that some might call that a maze, but in reality it was a mess.
I could not help thinking that he was describing me to a tee even though he had never actually been in my apartment. The same qualities pertain to me. I do tame things down every 28 days as I prepare for my monthly merry maid visit, yet it can be difficult to keep up with the tsunami of information that I let come flooding through my door. Thinking that it will provide comfort when it may be actually doing the opposite-making things worse. It is not that information is bad; it is just how I handle it.
Mazes are a puzzle that are very difficult to solve since it is very difficult to move and one's steps keep getting retraced, and it can be hard to tell which lines one needs to be on if the previous routes have been failures.
On a related note, I almost won the package to be organized at an auction for autism last weekend, but I was afraid of what I might be told that I needed to do in order to be more organized. When I last had organizers come in , I was glad that time ran out in that given area of work that should have been done. Now I just must go and tackle some of that unpleasant stuff so I can understand and know what I have and what I need to get rid of.
To see it from above, from a different perspective. Maybe through the eyes of some who care for me and my God. Not eyes of judgement but eyes of Love . and an accountability to actually get it done and make progress on the same front.