This weekend, my husband and I
bored out cleaned my kids’ bedroom. I found the expected mix of clean and dirty clothes, shoes, and toys. What we didn’t expect was the vast amount of trash that we cleared (with the girls’ help, of course). As I love to do, I took this idea of finding unexpected garbage into the philosophical realm.
As I grow and evolve, it seems like I find unexpected monsters lurking on occasion. To my logical mind, it seems that I should be joyous at the chance to grow and live and evolve. But these monsters threaten to choke the fun out of the transformation by making me clean something scary (as was definitely the case in the girls’ bedroom!) or try to the determine the cause of “that” smell. Who are these monsters anyway? We adults know that there’s no such thing as real monsters in the closet or under the bed, right?
FDR’s most often heard quote is “The only thing to fear is fear itself.”
I think these “monsters” are fear and its sibling, anxiety. Fear of what? That’s for you to answer.
At the end of the last night’s cleaning expedition, I remember distinctly how lovely it was to see a beautifully clean bedroom (with snoring children) that had no road hazards over which I could trip in the night. I savored the moment and hoped that it would last more than 24 hours. Yeah, right.