She walked inside my closet and my face turned red.
“Oh no. It is so messy in there.” I said running behind her.
“Oh it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.” she said and stayed in there.
My closet was the messiest place inside my house.
The place I wanted to hide from everyone.
Words cannot possibly articulate the feeling of shame I had.
And all that shame because of a messy closet?
And I got to thinking.
What if it means more than just that?
I mean how can a messy room make me feel like this?
And what does that have to do with transformation and reinvention?
Here is why I am writing a whole Message in a Bottle just on this.
The incident I am referring to happened 4 or 5 months ago.
Which means that I had gone through reinventions, transformations and I was proud of the person I had become.
So when this experience took place I questioned myself.
I thought I was this don’t give a darn about anyone kind of human.
And I am.
But obviously not to the extent I thought I was.
I am so done with that feeling that I felt in that moment.
Let me tell you it was intense and this is why I am writing about it.
A very messy room, closet, life whatever is messy…it is ok.
Enough with the pretending that we are not messy.
Let them see your messy closet, kitchen or house and yes your messy life after loss.
Who cares what they think.
When we go through loss, and loss that is tragic we become very messy.
And for a while or forever (in my case) our messiness spills out.
It comes along with us.
It taps us on our shoulder and we will have to learn to say to our Ms. Messy it is ok that you are here with me. I don’t mind being seen with you.
Now this might not work out for some people in our lives.
They will judge Ms. Messy.
And then they will judge us because we are bringing her along with us.
So I guess that is what I felt when this friend was inside my closet, the judgement.
Even though she didn’t say anything her quietness to me said “oh, she is this transformation author and she can’t even get her closet straight.”
I know she didn’t say it.
But somehow I heard it from her body language.
And my closet was not just messy, it looked like a hurricane hit it.
So I am certain it was shock I saw on her face.
Here is the deal with this weekly letter you are reading.
We talk about everything.
Now that you know I am such close friends with Ms. Messy also know that my imperfect messy self is the part of me that has taken the bigger risks after my loss.
The organized and clean part of me didn’t even dare.
So it looks like Ms. Messy is here to save us.
I love you.