Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Disorgainization, Chronic, Late Onset

That's my personal diagnosis of me. Symptoms include heightened frustration and constant searching, often accompanied with feelings of hopelessness and helplessness to make life simple.

Yep. That's me. I haven't always been this way. Actually, I used to be quite organized. I had to be to manage a busy multi-faceted life. I was a single mother of two children while attending college full time and working two and sometimes three part-time jobs. Couldn't have done it without organization.

And when I finished college and the kids were gone I used those organization skills in my job as a mental health therapist in the prison system. I kept files in order, designed programming, wrote lesson plans, taught classes, held therapy groups. And nearly always knew where everything was because everything had a place and I always put things back where they belonged.

What the heck happened?

Well, first I married a clutter-er. But I still put my things away, usually. I was still working, after all.

But then . . . I retired. No time schedule to confine me, I could just put things off. Just put it somewhere and I'll get to it later. And, of course, I now had a lot of different interests, different things going at the same time. There was sewing that I worked on a little at a time, so why put it all away when I'd just be getting it right back out again.

And paperwork. I thought that the age of computers was going to create a paperless society! Hah! We now by reams of printer paper, and printouts either get piled up somewhere or filed or stacked to be filed. Eventually a lot of it gets recycled, which is another pile.

I also do crochet, so collect lots of skeins of yarn. And sometimes I embroider, so there is floss. And church projects often involved crafts of various kinds.

And, of course, I also paint with pastels. So I have a large easel and a chest of drawers with art supplies in the corner of the living room. And there are portfolios and boards to support the paper when painting, and art papers, and . . .

Well, you get the idea.

What inspired this post? I'm looking for a photo to use with a post I'm writing about my grandmother. I have manila envelopes stuffed with photos, boxes stuffed with photos, stacks of photo albums and I spent the evening looking for the photo I want. Haven't found it yet. I think there might be more albums in the basement.

At least the condition isn't fatal, unless one of those stacks of papers buries me someday. If I'm lucky you'll get to see the photo when and if I find it.

Take my advice: get organized early and keep it up. You could end up with my diagnosis if you don't.

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