Mess— What You See Is Not What You Get

I’m not what anyone would call a “put together” person.

Hot mess doesn’t even define me— just mess.

Messy.

Messed-up…

No matter how much I fight this exhausting battle of imperfection— in me and in my living space— I have yet to conquer this.

Not dirty.

Cluttered.

My space is too small for all I have.

Don’t get me started on “downsizing”.

And please don’t offer me suggestions or advice.

Just

Don’t.

I have always been sensitive about this issue.

Ashamed.

Frustrated.

Rejected.

Talked about…

Today I choose to embrace the facts.

I’m not like everyone else.

I’m not like anyone else.

I never will be.

Talking with my husband last night, he reminded me—

I have had a lot of experiences.

Experiences no one else has.

Things that— literally— nearly killed me.

Physical, emotional, mental

Traumas.

I am done apologizing for what so many see with their eyes and their opinions— as wrong with me.

I do what I can.

I face mind-numbing overwhelm.

I have stared that down many times.

Sometimes it wins.

Lately though— I win.

So my house has “stuff”.

There are reasons that will never matter to my critics.

They don’t care about my “why’s”

They just care about their preferred ways— how things “should” be.

I have struggled with being lost in a sea of opinions by sight or “first impressions”.

Very few people have taken the time look past, ignore, or focus on person me.

I am not my house.

I am not just a mess.

I am a survivor.

I am a fighter.

I am thriving in increasing health as my body heals from the inside out.

I am many testimonies of God saving, protecting, healing, repairing, changing—

I am the me that God has created.

If you only know me by the imperfect nature of appearance and/or my house—

You have completely missed it— missed me.

That really is your loss.