Stirring the pot, raising hell and rearing children in the Bay Area

Deep Clean

Posted on Feb 2, 2011 in Family, Friends, Rants and Raves, Featured |

Deep Clean

It occurred to me this morning that my family must think I’m on a cleaning binge. They must think that mom is cleaning the closets, organizing clothes and shoes and games and toys because that’s what moms do. They must think that I’m delving into the back of the hall closet, the side closet, the basement in an attempt to stay organized. The people at Sacred Heart must think I’m moving; I’ve been there three times to drop-off bags of unwanted items. My spouse must think that I need a lot more consulting work if I’ve got all this “free” time on my hands.

“It’s Saint Brigit’s Day,” Linsey told me yesterday as I dove into another drawer to purge its contents. “Huh?,” I replied, only half listening. She went on to describe St. Brigit’s Day is halfway between the winter solstice and the summer equinox, unofficially symbolizing the beginning of Spring. Apparently it’s the time for regeneration, cleaning, revamping, renewing. It is that time, for me, and I’ve never even heard of Brigit or why she’s a saint. But if she’s turning 40 and her world is upside down, then she’s like me: purging with a purpose. It’s also Imbolc, one of the Wiccan days of fire, but I swear I didn’t burn anything, even though I wanted to torch some of the stuff I’d found in the back of these closets.

I get it: I’m cleaning not because I want to (dear frigging goodness, no), but somehow because I have to. I want to see my world from the inside out in order, I want to open closets I’ve long ago closed and find treasures, not junk. I want to know what’s behind every door and don’t want to be surprised by crap I should have taken care of years earlier just shoved into the back of my closet. I am 23 days from being 40 and I’m cleaning my mental house.

I’m exhausted from sorting, dumping, re-grouping, hauling junk to the curb, all while trying to bring the good stuff to the front, keep it clean and updated and neat, ready-to-wear. It’s pathetically metaphoric. As 2011 settles in, I can feel a year of unrest and growth. I know it’s the year of stirring and leaping and resorting. But I also know that in order to love everything I have in front of me, the junk has to go. So here, a week in to targeting drawers and closets and nooks of my house with a┬ávengeance, I realize that this silent, sorting time, is giving me space to do the same internally.

… and you thought I was just cleaning out the closet? Hardly.