This topic of messiness has been coming up so much for me lately. Two toddlers in my house mean frequent messes. I also wrote a blog post last week about making a giant mess in my office to clear it out…all aboard the hot mess express!

I’ve learned a lot in the past couple of weeks years about how messes show up in my life. And what I choose to make them mean about me, my life, and my household. I’ve also healed some really nasty feelings I’ve had about being a messy person in general.

Repetition of the past

There is a version of me who would never have admitted to being a mess. As I grew up, before anyone ever came over to our house, we’d do a 30-minute panic clean. The house would be a total disaster. There we were, frantically wiping down surfaces, cleaning toilets, and shoving things in closets and drawers.

We used panic and chaos to deal with our panic and chaos.

As I grew up and moved into my own spaces, the chaos of clutter lessened. Let me tell you though, there are still times when a panic clean happens before people come over.

It’s only 10% that it does need to be cleaned and 90% the cycle that I just keep repeating. I love the drama of waiting until the last minute, putting in a ton of hard work, and seeing a sparkling clean house just in time for my guests to arrive.

A sparkly clean way of looking at messes

These days, I approach messes in my household a little differently. Instead of constantly avoiding them, I try, try to address them as they come to me. I pick up the kid’s toys (on most days) at the end of the night. I devote an entire day to laundry and only laundry (because I know if I try to do other things on that day, the laundry will sit and sit until my husband runs out of clean underwear and he finishes it on his own).

Along with the physical act of cleaning up messes right away, I’ve also changed the way I think about messiness. No longer are messes a direct reflection on who I am as a person. Past versions of me would look at a messy kitchen and start digging in for keeping such a disgusting house. I’d start fights in my head about how I never got help with the housework so it always fell to me.

There is no joke when I say my mind went straight for the meanest, most awful things it could muster. I am happy to be in a place where I can see her coming in before she gets too deep of a hold and I talk her off the ledge gently and compassionately.

I can now walk into a messy kitchen and trust myself that I will get it cleaned up at the exact right moment for me. Knowing that this mess isn’t a reflection of who I am and doesn’t mean anything that I don’t make it mean. 

Guests can now come into my home that hasn’t been bleached and wiped without me apologizing for the mess. And honestly, if people don’t want to come over because my kitchen island has some crumbs on it, they probably aren’t my people anyway.  Because, for real, as a person, I’m not spick and span. There are parts of me that are messy.

I actually love my messiness

I am anxious and awkward. Unnecessary advice giving is one of my specialties. Conversations I’ve had with someone when I felt like I might have said the wrong thing go on repeat in my brain. In your space is where I want to be when I’m excited about something…bouncing off the walls. Energy for days when I’m having a good time and avoiding the shit out of you when I’m not. 

There are so many conflicting and confusing parts of me…and that feels really freaking messy, y’all. But here’s the different way I’m approaching my internal messiness these days…instead of shunning those versions, or stuffing them in closets…I’ve decided to start loving them. 

I’ll be honest with you, I tried for years and years and years to heal myself into this perfect version of me. One who doesn’t have shitty thoughts about herself or who says all the right things at exactly the right time, all the time.

I tried to shove these pieces of me away and tuck them down deep so no one would see them. Trying to mean my way into being some version of me with no flaws.

What if imperfection is actually the epitome of perfection?

And I’m so damn sick of it. I’m tired of trying to heal my way into perfection…and seriously, what if I am already perfect? Just the way I am, right now? So what if I have a little extra dash of anxiety? Or too much advice giving? What if I am in your face sometimes and avoiding you others?

These pieces of me do what they do out of love. I promise you and myself that my intentions are usually always as pure as they can be. I love people hard so when I’m giving a million solutions to a problem you only want to talk about, it’s not because I think I can handle it better than you, it’s because I can see you are hurting and I want to help.

When I’m excited, I want my energy to be contagious so I bring a crap ton of it with me. I want a high vibe, and fun times and I want you to have some too.

YES, sometimes, these things do come across as messy. I’m learning to be okay with my messiness because I want to love every freaking version of me…the messy versions included. And here’s the bigger thing…I want you to be comfortable in your messiness too.

Learning to love all the messiness…all aboard the hot mess express!

I want you to know how much I love the awkward way we have conversations when we don’t know what to talk about. Or how awesome it is that you try to finish someone’s sentences because you want to relate so hard to them. It is so beautiful how we all do things to help ourselves fit in a little harder, a little better.

But I am not here to have conversations about the weather, I want to know all your versions too…especially the messy ones. I want to know why you are the way you are and why you do the things you do. I want to dive into the deep end of the pool…always.

And I want you to be comfortable doing it too. So that’s why I am a coach and a put yourself first, above everything, advocate. Because when you can dig in and love the messiness of who you are, you get a much richer life experience. You love harder, deeper, and more strongly when you can love all of you.