I CAUGHT THE KONMARI FEVER

Yesterday I was snuggling in bed after some incredibly sweet, special days spent with some very special people; a lot of beautiful things have happened in the last few days, I was in a happy-dreamy state of mind whilst looking at random stuff on my phone, when I stumbled upon the review of Netflix new series “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo”. I’m not even sure why my brain decided it was interesting enough to make me click on the article, but after reading it, I thought “maybe I should give this series a go, just few minutes, see what all this fuss about this Japanese woman is about”.

I am honest, I have never read Marie Kondo’s books and all I knew about her was that she was a sort of “tidy-guru”, so I started watching the first episode full of stupid prejudices, expecting to see one of those shows that you know for a fact it is a stupid set up, one of those “why am I wasting my time watching this crap anyway?”, a very hipster-ish, patronising, annoying as hell thing where a Japanese know-it-all woman would impose her crazily impossible rules on how to keep homes tidy.

Only it was not as my prejudices predicted.
I got totally mesmerised and drawn into it after few minutes. I just couldn’t believe my eyes! Marie presents herself in such a positive, delicate, warm way, it is impossible not to be captivated by her and to not listen to all her tips and advices. At the end of episode one, I felt the urge to get up and apply her KonMari method straight away to my house. Yes, months ago I already had to throw away lot of old clothes because they don’t fit anymore, but still, I knew in my heart I was holding on to stuff I would never, ever wear anyway, and oh my gosh, I could have so done with decluttering my whole house entirely. I zoomed out of my bed, I stormed into my living room and I started to look around: all I could see around me was clutter, clutter, clutter and some more clutter.
If I could have burned down the house, there and then, to get rid of it, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I was desperate to break free from all of it.

my mountain

Following Marie’s lessons, I decided to tackle my house by categories rather than room, and as per her advice, I started by sorting all my clothing. Energised and ready, I piled all, and I mean ALL, my clothes on the sofa. Old and new, lingerie, socks, coats, everything went there. It was quite frightening the amount of “clothes-clutter” I had.
Marie’s advice to deal with clothes is to not focus on the things that needs throwing away, but on those you want to keep: these items must give you a “spark of joy”, as she calls it. Well…. I looked at my clothes’ mountain and, to be honest, very few things sparked joy to me. It didn’t take long before I realised that the pile of the things I was getting rid of was noticeably bigger than the tiny pile of the things I truly wanted to keep.

a very empty wardrobe…

At the end, I saved only my newest gym sets and few other bits purchased recently. My wardrobe is so empty right now, and yet when I look at it, it feels so full of happiness: I only see the things that truly sparks me joy and I promised myself that, from now on, I’ll buy only few things but valuable and with the “joy” factor in it.

Next category on Marie’s list is books.
If clothes went down like a breeze, books… not so much. I don’t necessarily like to depart with books in general, but some of those were only good for gathering dust and I knew in my heart they had to go. To be honest, once I started getting rid of the easiest one to chuck away, like my university guides, the task seemed less daunting. Surprisingly, I even managed to let go of some cooking books I never opened once, and that I was keeping for no reason at all.

“what I want you to ask yourself is if it’s something you really want to take into your future”

Marie Kondo

You know what I realised whilst I was doing this? I have been treating my house like a “space I have to be in”, not a “home”. Since I kicked my ex-husband out, I took some steps to re-own the place and make it “mine”, but I realise now I only went so far in the process. Yes, I painted walls purple, yes I bought a new coffee machine and few other bits and pieces, but I never went “all in” to transform it in a way that resonates with who I am. I have kept so much crap in case “my ex-husband gets offended or moans or maybe he thinks…”, tons of clutter infested my shelves because “I don’t know what to do with it so I might as well leave it as it is”, all of the “I’ll keep it just in case “ left forgotten waiting for the moment I’d use them that never arrived and, I am embarrassed at admitting this, but I also had shit hoarded in cupboards because “omg what if there is a spider or a bug…let’s never open this EVER”. I know. The shame.

I must admit, I skipped Marie’s third category, paper, because all my paperwork is self-contained in one cupboard and I don’t feel the urge to purge it right now, so I focussed on what she calls “Komono”, as known as category four: kitchen, bathroom, and all miscellaneous. After emptying the cabinet have under the stairs (one of those “omg I’ll never open it in case a monster will eat me alive”), I stormed in the kitchen like a fury. I emptied all my cupboards, I cleaned them, and I threw away almost everything that was stored inside. It felt amazing. It was also a great chance to assess my relationship with this room. You see, I adore baking. I love just taking half a day (if not a whole day) to create some “oven magic”. For me, baking is so relaxing, a kind of mindfulness exercise where I don’t have to think, it’s one step after the other, and at the end of the whole process, I get to eat a cake! I love purchasing kitchen utensils, pans, pots and tins, but I brutally stopped when I soon realised that the care and love I had for these items was not met by my ex-husband, who didn’t really give a shit about them and therefore ended up ruining every single item I had, including pans, kitchen appliances etc.
It pissed me off beyond belief.
Don’t ask me why, but this mentality of “why should I bother buying it, he’ll ruin it anyway” has kind of stuck with me two years later, and so far I kept using the same old shitty pans and old utensils I had. Well, when I saw that stuff, sad looking on my kitchen counter, I almost started sobbing: that is not me. In a fit of rage, I binned everything. EVERYTHING. I then made a list of all the things I absolutely need as soon as possible, all the things I would love to purchase, and I had a very relaxing evening shopping online for my lovely new, shiny, and so damn purple kitchen stuff. I even purchased a brand-new set of pan and pots! I still have a lot of things to do (the bathroom awaits…!), I feel so great. I feel like finally this place and I are on the same page: rooms are starting to shape up, everything feels so different, clear, positive, and so do I. it is so, so exciting. I’m thrilled at the thought of finishing this task, have my surgery and finally “coming back home”. To my home. To my kingdom. To my special, cherished place. I don’t care if I have plenty more days of dealing with bin bags and cleaning non-stop, I can picture the end of this mammoth task and let me tell you, it is going to be amazing!

“Tidying not only changes your home life but it also allows you to create a space that suits your ideal self”

Marie Kondo
my copy!

For the record, I purchased Marie’s book “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying”. Needless to say, I am devouring it!

F (ORGIVE) YOU (RSELF)

I was talking to my close friend Marge recently about everything that has happened, all the progresses I made, all the road that is still ahead, the things that I want to accomplish now and the aim for the both of us to be healthy and fit for a special photoshoot in 2019 (yes, bitch, you and I are so fucking doing this). Anyway, the conversation at some point focussed on a very interesting point that left me meditating about it for quite a bit (and, as you can see, I’m still thinking about it):

Why it is so easy to forget everyone else in the whole world, including those who hurt us, but not ourselves?

Why we are so hard, harsh, strict, and cruel with us, but we are more than happy to come up with any justification whatsoever for anyone else to lightener up whatever they did (to us, to themselves)? Why it is so, so easy to point the finger straight at us, and keep those “it’s absolutely my fucking fault” feelings held close to our hearts, but we struggle to say “no, actually, it is also your fucking fault mate”? Why we cannot rationally assess what happened, mourn what has to be mourned, come to terms with the feelings that are left and then let go of them, a bit like flushing the toilet and there you go, all the bad stuff is now down the drains?

I was the master of always blaming only myself. Even with my latest relationship: it was my fault I loved him too much; it was my fault I was too generous; it was my fault I invited him to live with me in the hope he’d love me more and more; it was my fault I desperately wanted to believe in something that was not there, and maybe if I listened to my friends, maybe, I would have opened my eyes sooner and spared myself a massive chunk of pain; it was my fault I held on to him like he was the most precious thing in the world; oh, I could go on and on and on for hours. Same for everything else: it was my fault I had post-natal depression, I should have known from my previous mental history that it was a serious threat and not just “something you read on those scary books for first-time mums”; it was my fault I ended up being a single mum, because I should have realised quite soon who my ex-husband was and all his problems, instead I not only married him but I also brought a child into this world; it was my fault I had mental problems, it was my fault I ended up at the hospital with a severe allergy reaction to hair dye, it was my fault, my fault, MY FUCKING FAULT.

True, I am partially to blame for the things above, and all the things that happened in my life so far because well, I was alive, conscious, breathing, thinking, deciding, doing. But all of the blame? I don’t think so. Part of the blame sits in other people’s side, or in things that I couldn’t have controlled or predicted, and if I’m more than happy to forgive them like nothing ever happened, I owe the same treatment to myself, right?

Not quite.

blog2Whatever happened, we just hold on those negative feelings; we torture ourselves day in, day out. We let the blame on ourselves fester our lives like a lingering, horrible smell that you cannot get rid of, no matter how much you keep your windows open (ending up freezing to death) or how much air freshener you spray (so much that you created your very own ozone hole). We let the pain infest our wellbeing, and we hold on so tight to this rotting corpse of what happened that we cannot see a way out of our own personally crafted hell. Why? Why we behave like this?

Hear this: you won’t be an asshole of epic proportions, an egoistic maniac, a twat, a horrible person if you are kind to yourself and admit “actually, it is not ONLY my fault here”. You are not excusing yourself from your fair share of responsibility: you are just not being responsible for everyone else’s. Martyrdom won’t make you a saint: you won’t gain more friends, more popularity, more medals, you name it, only because you bear the pain of the world in your heart saying, “IT IS ALL MY FAULT”. It took me ages, ageeeees to see this (and therapy, lots of it).
For fuck sake.

Of course, with my ex I made a lot of mistakes. A LOT. But.
blog1BUT, but he was not in good faith. He used me, abused me, he tricked me into believing he loved me just as much as I did, he used my feelings against myself, he gaslighted me to hide his flaws, his insecurities, his problem, so that I could only be focusing (till the brink of mental unit recovery) into mines and not on his. He took me for granted, he hurt me for his amusement, he took advantage of myself, my belongings, my feelings and when I was not of any use anymore, he dumped me like a bag of garbage in the bin, washed his hands and off he went.
So yeah, I may have been stupid, I may have been whatever I have been, but my heart was pure, my feelings were true, I was kind, I was real, and honest, and there is just so much you can do when someone so manipulative and with hidden agendas step in your life ready to cause havoc for their own benefit. So yeah, fuck you, twat, here is your fucking (massive) share of blame, now rot in hell away from me thank you very fucking much. I forgive myself. I don’t forgive him, no, I just won’t give a shit about him, because as Nelson Mandela said, “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies”. I got no time for this.

Of course, it was partly my fault for everything that happened to me so far. But always, 100%, all my fault? No. Would that make me an asshole for thinking this way? So be it. I rather be a happy asshole than an unhappy, tortured, and depressed saint. Thinking “ooooh, it was all my fault, I brought this to myself, I will never be able to forgive myself for what happened” will only leave you where you are, hurting. I know because I’ve always been that person. Life went on and I was still there, sat in a corner, crying and shouting “WHY I AM LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME”. Well, the answer was “because I decided to be like this, to not let the fucking go of all these feelings, of all this pain, instead of embracing better things”.
It is a massive shift in mindset. It requires being honest with ourselves, I mean REALLY honest, not just “I feel like I have to feel like this or else people would think bad of me” honest.
Mind you, I’m not saying we should just wash our hands of our responsibilities, of our faults, because that would be absolutely wrong (and you’d be a total asshole). Just see what happened for what it was, forgive and forget.

Yes, sometimes there are things that are solely only our own fault, like when Thursday I ended up overeating till oblivion at the Indian restaurant and then praying for a quick death whilst suffering the most horrendous aftermath, or in general not being up and running with my accountancy degree because I haven’t been arsed to open a book so far, or having my face covered in spots because I was too lazy to take my makeup off and fuck you Silvia, what a moron! And you know what? We can’t be perfect and super diligent all the time. Sometimes we do stupid things. Everyone does. No point in banging our heads on the wall (not too much anyway): these are things that we did, for good or worse, and if we analyse them, we would be able to find positive lessons for the future (hopefully, though I know that, provided with another amazing Indian buffet, fuck you, I’d be swimming in curry with not a single regret WHATSOFUCKINGEVER).
What I am saying is, it would be good to rationally assess what happened, not just rush to grab all the blame that exists and then torture ourselves, marinating in the negative past forever: it is not a race, there are no prizes to be won, the only outcome is inflicting ourselves with more pain than what we should inflict. Once you assess the true share of blame, learn the lessons to be learned and then let it go for good. Forgive yourself, promise to do better, DO better and move on.

An example that is just happening as I am writing. Today, a lovely (ok, it is grey and raining here, so not lovely at all) Saturday morning, instead being a lazy mess, instead of spending it buried under 60 kg of blankets and duvets, sipping my espresso and watching Netflix, I had to wake up at 7am, and I’m sitting on my sofa, writing this (which makes what I’m about to say a little bit nicer), whilst an amazing British Gas Engineer is installing my brand new, 3k in 10 years of my life instalments, super cool boiler. The old (ok, ancient) one, died this summer once, fed up with its tremendous noise, I turned it off. Least I knew, at that time, that I turned it off for fucking good.
Yes, it is, for the vast majority of it, my fault: I never bothered servicing it.
Fuck it, I knew when I bought the house that my boiler was as old as to be in a museum, but I decided against taking the hit then. I then never bothered enquiring about a new one, and maybe changing it last year, or the year before. I just didn’t want to care.
And guess what, my care-free behaviour came back to bite my arse. So here I am, freezing my ass, longing for a hot bath and a Caribbean climate in my house.

Is it truly all my fault though? No. Fuck me, no. I had other expenses in these three years and half I’ve been living here that were more pressing and urgent. I took my chances, I decided to bet on the boiler to keep me going for as long as possible, and boy, my good old friend did a magnificent job. In addition, I had a useless ex-husband who was too busy doing his very best to leave us on the breadline, creditors at my door thanks to him, and I had to choose on whether to prioritise food on the table or which bill in scary long arrears try to clear first; on top of this, I had childcare to organise, my mental health to deal with, a lot of shit to take care of, and the boiler was the least of my thoughts. I took one last roll of dices this summer, but my boiler told me to fuck off. Fair enough. I’m not blameless, but I won’t torture myself. It happened, I’m dealing with it now, I have my punishment in the form of ten years instalment repayments, fuck it. I had a good moan, but I will also have a very long, extra luxurious bath.

Another example? It is all my fault I don’t have the gym body of my dreams? Not all, but 95% yes. I have been too lazy, too silly, too careless, too focussed on hating myself, on telling me “you cannot do it”, “you are not good at all”, “your body is shit anyway”, etc. than to actually do something about it, like, well, going to the gym and exercise, follow a proper, healthy diet, listen to a personal trainer’s instructions etc. Now, I can choose to keep blaming myself forever, especially when I see my results now and I think “why the fuck didn’t I do this sooner”, or I could just forgive myself and use the energy to squat some more, instead of blaming me some more. Guess which my choice is: JLo, I’m coming to get you.

Hey, in the category of “stuff I like to blame myself”, let’s not forget: sometimes shit happens, and it is a fact of life. You can try and make plans, you can give it a go and predict it, but hey, sometimes there is nothing you can do about it. You can either face it, deal with what happened and put it behind your back, or you can cry in a corner with your problems getting bigger and bigger. And bigger. It just happens! Don’t beat the shit out of you for it, it is what it is, as painful and annoying as it is.

blog3Besides, let’s think about it for a second: why others should get a free blame pass anyway? Why can’t we just dump their shit in their garden, rather than cluttering ours? We are not less important. Our feelings, ourselves, are just as in need of recognition and care as theirs. You are not doing yourself a favour by being harsh and not forgiving yourself, and you are not doing THEM a favour either. You cannot control other people, you cannot make them do things, or feel the feelings you want them to feel, but you can decide to not lift their fair share of weight in the shit that happened, if that is the case. You can happily let their blame go, because holding a grudge is just more pain for you, and you can also let your blame go as well, because you can tell someone to fuck off for good, but you don’t have the same luxury with your very own self.

I’m not saying it is easy, it is actually hard as fuck, but believe me, all this pain is just not worth it. It won’t serve you, it won’t teach you, it won’t make you a better person: it will just hurt you. As hard as it may sound, you are worth more than living in a constant hell. If you like to visualise stuff, imagine yourself writing down the list of things you want to forgive yourself about, imagine setting fire to that list, watch it burn and then let it go. Forever. Done, FINITO. You can also physically burn a real list (provided you go in a safe place, because you don’t want firefighters storming in your house) if you want to make the experience more realistic. It is up to you to find your way, so long as you start practicing kindness to yourself a bit more.

The only way to heal is by forgiving; sometimes, we have to forgive others and let them go. Sometimes, we have to forgive ourselves, and until we do so, we will never truly heal.