My mother is a lot like me, or I’m a lot like her. We’re kind, respect everyone and everything, have a witty sense of humor, love nature, and she loves bargains too. J But that’s where the similarity stops. My mother is not a shopaholic. Never has been. Never will be. She has NO debt, owns her house and her car, cans and puts away food every year. She’s as frugal as they come, yet she has everything she needs. Probably more. Her bargains…remember. And she’s never been overwhelmed a day in her life. When things got tough, and they did, she worked. She got up and did something. She tackles life and problems with a simplicity that is nothing short of brilliant. She would write a self help book. Why then, is her daughter (Me!) the opposite?
I wasn’t always this way. Well, I’ve always had too much stuff, and I’m always in a frenzy over something, but I used to laugh at my frenzy and I was neat. My house was so uncluttered that people probably weren’t comfortable. There was nothing out of place. Or course that was in my pre-kids life. J And I could tackle huge tasks that dumbfounded other people. They thought I was like Super Girl. It didn’t even faze me. But now everything overwhelms me. My living room overwhelms me. My kitchen overwhelms me. My dishes overwhelm me. My huge candlestick collection, my purses, my bracelets, my mirrors. I have too much of everything. But I don’t want to get rid of it. By golly, it was a bargain! And I love my stuff. Whoever said that your possessions own you had it right. But I’m too hard headed to give them up yet. J
So for now, I have to accept myself with all my flaws and stop complaining. If I’m cluttered or uncluttered, plotter or pantser, slow writer or fast writer, glass half full type or glass half empty type, whatever I am. It’s MY LIFE. I have to OWN IT and DEAL WITH IT.
If I’m fat. Be happy, or shut up and lose weight. If I’m cluttered, laugh at it, or shut up and de-clutter. I will laugh with myself while I’m polishing away my flaws like problems in a manuscript.