airing my dirty laundry

If you want to see where a person is in life, emotionally & mentally and maybe spiritually and physically speaking, take a look at their laundry. And by laundry, I may just mean their closet.

My closet, as it stands right now, is in shambles.

I’ve got hangers hung without clothes, or with clothes half hanging. I’ve got stuff thrown on top of my dresser. I’ve got a basket of clean laundry intermingling with a pile of dirty clothes right next to it and the line between the two is a bit blurred. One of my drawers is also halfway opened with clothes spewing out over the top of it.

If you want to get a good picture of where I am at life, take a look at my closet. This is a very serious matter, my clothes being all in shambles. I’ve never been able to keep a clean room. My mother is convinced that this is a side affect of my ADD, which I’m perfectly fine with because I can play the sympathy card and get out of being scolded for it. But I digress. My room has never been clean, but the degree to which my clothes are completely out of place can tell someone so much about me.

The messier my clothes, the messier my life. The more shamble-like my closet, the more shamble-like my emotions, my schoolwork, my relationships, my thoughts.

Sometimes I just go and go and go and go. I am in turbodrive and I get things done and do what needs to be done. I take care of business and I do a really good job at it when I’m in turbodrive. Sometimes, I’m going at a normal pace through life. This speed is very rare, so I’m not even sure exactly what I do and what my day looks like when I’m in this speed. The worst speed is turtle speed.

Turtle speed, as I guess I’m now going to call it since I just did (i’ve never done that before), is what most of my days look like. Correction – it’s what the past few months have looked like. Turtle speed is where I wake up in the morning and hit snooze seventeen times, not because I’m tired and want more sleep but because I can’t pull myself out of bed. Turtle speed is where I brush my teeth looking in the mirror and sometimes brush for too long because I get lost in some fog of just standing there. Turtle speed is where I forget to do homework assignments. A lot. And my grades suffer for it. Turtle speed is where I forget to go to class. Turtle speed is where I remember to go to class, but take five steps in and become far too overwhelmed to even think about sitting there for an hour and a half so I turn right back around and go for a drive or go take a nap. Turtle speed is where I remember to go to class, don’t become overwhelmed by it, and just sit there staring at the desk or the whiteboard or the FCC vision/mission/purpose sign. Turtle speed is where I walk across campus or through the halls and can’t remember where I’m going. Turtle speed is where I walk across campus and know what I’m doing, but it feels like I’m just in my body but not really controlling it. It’s like I’m there, in my body watching myself walk to class, but I’m not the one controlling my feet and legs and words when someone says hello to me. Turtle speed is where I lie in bed with the curtain closed just staring at the wall because I’m not sure what else to do or how to do it. Turtle speed is where I intend on going for a drive for ten minutes to run to the store, but instead run through a drive thru and drive around wasting gas for an hour or two. Turtle speed is where I drive with the radio off, not really paying attention, but not really thinking about anything, either.

Turtle speed is my worst speed. It is also where I am stuck most often. And when I say ‘stuck,’ friend? I mean stuck. Like, I can’t shake it. Turtle speed is heavy, and it makes my neck hurt. Turtle speed brings headaches and nausea and eyes that start watering for any reason at any given moment. Turtle speed sucks.

I don’t know what to do with this turtle speed. I look at my closet and I know that this is turtle speed. I would not have so much dirty laundry if this wasn’t turtle speed. Clothes would be hanging neatly-ish, my drawers would all be closed, and clothes would be in them and not on the floor or in a basket. I look at my closet and I get real sad when I see it.

The worst part is, I’m pretty sure if would just straighten up my closet and do my laundry that this turtle speed thing would go away. Sometimes that works. Sometimes all it takes is sitting on the table in the laundry room doing homework or wasting time while my laundry spins. If I could just bring myself to do my laundry, maybe turtle speed would go away.

But I can’t bring myself to do it. Turtle speed won’t really let me.

More on turtle speed later, maybe.