I am writing this blog post with rage and frustration, to be honest with you, and I apologize in advance regarding my state of mind. But at the same time, I am thankful to my husband, who gave me inspiration without wanting it, to write that blog post. A couple of minutes before I started writing it, I was finishing to tidy the kitchen and to iron my husband’s clothes before applying cream on my feet and hands, sitting on the bed in the bedroom next door and to start typing my text. But before that, a couple of minutes ago, a fight occurred between me and my husband, because my husband reproached me of being so messy in the house. And before that, nothing, absolutely nothing, happened and we had a good dinner and a very nice evening. But when I tidied some clean glasses on a platter, I put the platter on a cupboard near the kitchen, where there were some other stuffs which belonged to my son, and those stuffs were a couple of toys and some special serum juices that we bought from hospital to re-hydrate my son in case he would suffer from vomiting and high fever. In an unexpected moment, my son wanted to share the bottles with us, since there were three bottles. But without paying attention, my son took the bottles at such a speed that he missed hitting the glasses to be broken afterwards, and this stressed and frightened my husband a lot. But he was so stressed about that, even though the incident didn’t happen, thanks to God, that he started reacting very badly and seeing mess everywhere in the house! Yes, I admit it, I am very messy, extremely messy, though I had to work hard on it and make huge efforts to improve myself on that point, since I am extremely messy since I was a child, but at that moment, my husband really exaggerated and his reactions really pricked me! At a moment I was so pissed off that I told him frankly that I am messy and that it’s within my nature, since I am allergic and suffocate in houses which are too neat and too tidy. I have always been like that and will always be like that, as I have the artistic and literary spirit within me, which is not at all the case for my husband, who is in the numbers all day long and who likes everything at its proper place, neat and disciplined. On those points, after 12 years of marriage, we have always been completely incompatible and we always failed into adapting in each other’s characters, and it’s always been a subject on which we always had huge fights together. But tonight, he said something which completely hurt me to the core: The fact that I am messy and don’t like things to be tidied means that I am attracted to negativity instead of positiveness! I was so hurt hearing such a point that for long minutes, I sat down at my desk office where I was used to write before, and I was so shocked that I was unable to cry. And believe me, I really wanted to cry hard! Is that so true that I feed negativity by being messy?
I remember that when I was still single, my bedroom was a real mess as well and that I was completely careless about keeping it tidy! My mother always kept everything clean and neat, and she always kept on mistreating me when my bedroom was a mess, and even didn’t hesitate to interfere in my room so many times to tidy my stuffs, and this WITHOUT my permission, since she was always a manipulative and sociopath person! Based on the experience I had with my mother, I may tell you frankly today that I feel a deep hatred for people who love being too neat and tidy, because according to me, those people have a lot of things to hide, are superficial and are hypocrite. I had that problem two times with two landlords while I was living overseas with my family. Both landlords I had were real grouches who wanted everything to be nickel and extremely neat and who did a real scandal for each little detail they noticed, as they were both maniac and obsessed with money. The way they were doing with their houses, personally I interpreted that purely as a shape of sickness, since both of those landlords were childless women who were obsessed with money and luxury. While we were in Mauritius, we had the same problem with an uncle and an aunt of my husband’s who were also childless and who didn’t hesitate to denigrate us with my in-laws behind our back and face to face, without wondering how we were struggling with the maids at home, all the efforts we tried our best to do to keep their house clean, the time we had to spend together with our son and the struggles I had to bear during my pregnancy. They acted in such an inhuman way that we had to keep our distance from them, since they hurt us very deeply and deceived us. I also have another relative like that, another childless person who is also married and who has the same problem as well. Frankly speaking I don’t understand how childless people could react like that and be so maniac! Is that a sign for them to calm down their frustrations for not having been able to infant? Is that a sign of pure mental illness in them? Even my mother has exactly the same problem and that made that so many maids were sacked or resigned from her place because of her maniac manners. Among my in-laws, it’s exactly the same problem. I know that they like when everything is clean and neat, but frankly speaking, it’s for me a total nonsense and complex that they all developed, and for them also a sort of illness!
In Mauritius, such people are called maniac people. I asked myself then: What is a maniac person? I tried to google some images of maniac, and when I saw those frightening faces of bloody psychopaths, I was so afraid that I moved away from that page! I couldn’t believe that maniac could be so extreme! The Wikipedia defines Mania, also known as Manic Syndrome, as, I quote, “a state of abnormally elevated arousal, affect, and energy level, or “a state of heightened overall activation with enhanced affective expression together with lability of affect.” Although mania is often conceived as a “mirror image” to depression, the heightened mood can be either euphoric or irritable; indeed, as the mania intensifies, irritability can be more pronounced and result in violence, or anxiety.” When I read that definition, I retrieve exactly those landlords, my husband’s relatives, my mother, my own childless relative and my in-laws, and they all have something in common: Frustration about something which scarred their souls to the core. In the case of my in-laws, it’s the fact that they faced poverty at its extreme during their youth and were so many times mocked and bullied by society. In the case of all those childless people I mentioned, it’s the fact they couldn’t infant which made them suffering, and much more in the case of my relative, who was, in addition to all that, a victim of child abuse during her teenage years. In the case of my mother, she has something to reproach to herself, since she built her relationship and marriage with my father in an illegitimate way and that our links are now broken since I have been myself a victim of emotional and psychological abuse because of her.
But contrary to my niece and to my husband’s relatives, who faced serious circumstances with their family history which brought them to infertility and who ended maniac, for me it’s the total contrary which happened, and which is that I turned into being a real messy person. One of the factors where I could explain my messy manners is linked with the ADHD Syndrome I am actually suffering from because of all the traumas I passed in my childhood and for which I am still not completely recovered. The second factor, I may admit it, is a sign of dependence too. I remember I read a book from psychologist Pia Mellody on dependence, and there was an extract in that book where I recognized myself: When a person, during childhood, faced extreme abusive severeness from his or her parents, he or she won’t want to make the children experimenting the same thing at home, and will tend to do all the contrary. Those people think that by acting like that, they are recovered from the scars of their past, but in reality, without realizing it, this is a sign of dependence, a sign of fear that they have in them to live again the same experience as parents and no more as children. In my case, this is exactly what I am experimenting, even though I had to make a lot of efforts when it comes on cleanliness and tidiness because of my in-laws. Each time that my husband tells me that I am messy and that I am feeding negativity, I am scared of two things.
The first thing I am scared about is to repeat exactly the same abusive manias from my mother, which makes that I am detaching completely from them by being messy. The second thing though concerns a point of my personality, which is the artistic and literary one. I remember someone told me, a couple of years ago, that people who tend to be messy are sincere, creative and intelligent, whereas people who live in neat houses are superficial. And frankly speaking, neat and tidy houses always frightened me, whereas messy houses were heart-warming to me. I have a neighbor in my actual locality who is of same age group as me and the happy mother of 2 beautiful children, aged 4 years old and 18 months. I went to her place so many times, and it was really untidy and messy everywhere, in the kitchen, in the living room, even in the garden. But despite the big mess in her house, I always felt at home at her place. For me it was a really heart-warming atmosphere with the presence of so many pictures, handicrafts made by her children, books, toys, mats, etc, and most of all the pureness and innocence of those two little cuties. For me, such houses are signs of sincerity and pureness of hearts, because they have the warmth of a home, since home is where the heart is, and as the concept of home is something that you feel inside yourself whereas the concept of the house is mostly something material. To be honest, as my husband and I ourselves have our own house, even though it belonged to us, we always felt like strangers in our own place, since we were always controlled by my in-laws who never respected our privacy and who were always on our back to tell us what to do or not, and since it was a relative who was in charge of the housekeeping and garden maintenance during our absence from Mauritius. And each time we went to our house and that we forgot to do something silly such as switching off a light or not closing the hose tap properly, that relative immediately made a scandal as if the house belonged to him! As I told to a friend of ours once, what we have finally is just a house, but we don’t have a home! Even wherever I was living overseas, it was exactly the same problem, and even now I still feel torn between the fact of living in a house and the fact of living in a home, since my husband and I have different concepts of house and home.
Previously, I mentioned that the messy part of me comes from my artistic and literary personality, and by coincidence, I found an interesting article regarding a mother who struggled about her daughter always keeping her bedroom messy. That mother tried hard to convince her daughter to keep her bedroom tidy and neat, but it never worked with her daughter. The mother then consulted a clinical psychologist, who opened up her eyes regarding the mess in her daughter’s bedroom, by asking to the mother if her daughter is expressive, laughs, have friends, sings, etc, and all the answers were affirmative. Then, the psychologist told the mother something that made a tilt in my head, I quote:
“She’s exhausted,” Mogel said. “She’s near compulsive about her work and reading her teachers’ minds and her coaches’ minds and she holds herself to the highest of standards. Her room is where she lets go. The one place she lets herself be unfettered and relaxed.”
“The reason I ask about her friendships and her mood and what her teachers say is because, absolutely, a room can be a sign of a child’s low mood,” Mogel said. “But when I’m sizing up a family, I want the child’s room to be the worst. I’m a little nervous when a room is extremely neat because it can indicate that the child doesn’t have any private space to call her own.”
This was exactly unfortunately the kind of failure I have been passing through during all the years I was living at my parents’ place, since my maniac mother always wanted my room to be clean and neat all the time and kept on always criticizing me when I kept my room messy. The worst was that she kept on interfering too often and without my permission in all my personal matters at such a point that I have been completely deprived from my privacy while being a teenager, since my mother was overprotective, manipulative and always practicing freak control on me. Even now as a married person with one child, I still struggle to find out that part of privacy I am desperately looking for, since I have a true passion for writing, but must always be on my guards so that before my husband comes home, the housekeeping is made, the food is ready, our son already finished his dinner and evening shower, and I also have my own evening shower, even though I haven’t yet had dinner. And before bedtime, the kitchen must always be neat and clean, and I need to make sure that my husband and my child have their clothes washed and iron for work and for school. As a traditional Mauritian wife, it’s a routine to which I had to adapt, but deep inside, it’s very hard and for so many months I have been deprived from my freedom of writing since I was extremely stressed about all the responsibilities waiting for me, not taking the responsibilities on myself as a heavy chore, but rather taking those responsibilities as a burden because of the law of patriarchy that exists within traditional Hindu families such as the one my husband comes from. But the fact that my in-laws live in Mauritius and that we live overseas is a great relief for us, since we experimented the life in Mauritius with them always turning around us, and it was extremely painful. I truly wanted to spend some hours of the morning writing, but I was so stressed that I was unable to express my creativity and instead got distracted with other useless things for wasting my time as a sort of decompression in front of all the pressure in front of me. Such fears accumulated due to the absence of privacy in my own bedroom during my teenage and young adulthood years, and the fact that I have to abide to my husband’s and in-laws’ exigences regarding the cleaning of a house have represented a very huge handicap into my passion and making that blog dormant for months and months.
But when I recently turned 37 years old, there was a quote I inserted in my new page and which I mentioned above, and that quote then gave me the courage to say STOP. That STOP means STOP to that silly handicap caused by my past trauma with my maniac mother for my messy bedroom, and STOP to the silly fears caused by my fear that my husband only sees mess instead of the other efforts I made in return in other chores. So I decided to shake my booty once for all and restart writing, since it was the only thing I could do as a stress-reliever, a positiveness bringer, a therapy and a way of overcoming a hard day at home with my responsibilities before experiencing a peaceful sleep at night, until it is time for me to wake up and experiment a brand new day. But the fact that I restart writing also helps me much better putting everything in order in my ideas and in my brain, and motivates me again for doing better in my chores and responsibilities with more positiveness for better results. I am feeling blessed that I turned 37 years old and that quote made on me the effect of a real electroshock to affirm myself without neglecting my responsibilities. I keep on repeating to my husband now with more confidence and less fear that I need to write before sleeping, because it’s vital for me and it’s my dream laying in that blog I created. I don’t want to neglect my duties, but I don’t want either to sacrifice my dreams nor at the same time the only “Me” Time I can allow to myself and where I am in total intimacy with myself thanks to my writing. I don’t want to be as neat as my husband, otherwise it wouldn’t be me. I am ready to make an effort and an improvement since I am a devoted housewife and mother and that I need to teach the good example myself to my son, but I also want to have the right to be myself, and only writing can build golden mean between the neat person I need to be because of my family and the messy person I would like to remain since I adopted that trait as a part of my artistic and literary personality, though the trauma of the past with my mother still remains a reason behind it.