I live in a chaotic world.
Having a messy NT partner who spreads her stuff out around the house is not conducive to mental well being. I can’t find stuff, I have to move piles of stuff and when I have successfully done that I find another pile!.
Anyone visiting us would think they’d entered some sort of craft fair or fabric emporium. There are boxes of fabric on the landing, a hugely impressive sewing/quilting/embroidery machine in the kitchen, and another sewing machine. Oh, and an overclocker …or is it overlocker ?. Two die cutters, two three drawer chests full of fabrics, a sewing box, a sewing bag, scissors, needles, cutting boards and all the accompanying paraphernalia. There are a dozen projects on the go and another dozen half complete. Then there are the projects yet to come.
If it’s not fabrics then it’s crochet or knitting. If it’s not those I walk into the bathroom and trip over a plastic container the size of Brazil, containing nail gloss and acrylics of every shade, plus files, more files, more files and assorted nail equipment.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the fact she has hobbies, I like the fact she’s engaged with all this stuff and I love the little things she’s made for me.
But it really does upset me when I can’t see any order to it.
In a way I’ve given up. I’ve given up because it’s a battle I can’t win. I have to let it grate on my Autistic sense of order because I can’t change her and if I move stuff, if I make order out of chaos, that upsets her and I don’t want that.
But it’s hard.
My stuff is organised. Okay it’s organised until she moves it from where I put it or she buries it under yet another quilt, but I know…knew…where it is, or was.
We don’t have much usable space. We rent and there’s only so much storage or so much space to put stuff on display, so to speak. Most of my stuff is upstairs in boxes. I have to keep a list with each box so I know what’s in it. But I miss not being able to see it, being able to put it in the right place. Being orderly.
There’s a sense of misalignment that causes me irritation. It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch. I want to take everything out and start again. I want to bring order to chaos and actually be able to put my hand on what I want when I want.
Not being able to do so is stressful. It brings on anxiety, I worry I lose stuff if I can’t find it, if I don’t know where it is. It brings on panic attacks about lost keys and lost phones.
I’m writing this wedged into a corner of the sofa. I can see empty cups, plates, bits of plastic for the bin, an array of quilting magazines, flea spray (not for me!) and plastic bags. That’s just part of it.
I’m trying to make sense of why the plastic isn’t in the bin, the cup not by the sink, the magazines not in order,…
I’m trying to make Autistic sense out of domestic chaos..
And I think I’m failing miserably!