Messy Kitchen, Messy Brain

My five-year-old unconsciously uses her elbows to push aside the clutter as she digs into her porridge.

‘The table is full, huh mama.’ There’s no judgement here. My kid’s just observing.

For the most part I strive to keep our kitchen table clear, allowing only a couple of tidy piles at one end. This requires effort on my part. I’m committed, though, because my brain likes empty surfaces. My creative urges, for the most part, acquiesce, knowing it’s for their own good. Taped above my sink, a reminder that ‘order frees the mind for other things’ urges me to do the dishes, to wipe the counter, to put away the honey.

But this morning, the kitchen is a disaster. Used cups and bowls are everywhere. Jars, containers, pots have been abandoned since contents were removed. There’s been no refilling, no putting back lids, no reclosing bags. The drawers and cupboards are bare, their contents spread over every surface. The yogurt, left out, will have to be chucked. The cutting board reveals clues to what we’ve been cooking the last few days. On the floor crumbs irritate my bare feet.

All this explains why I am mentally exhausted by the time my daughter is eating her breakfast at 7:15. I’ve already done my own morning routine: washed my face in ice water, assembled and ate my own high-protein breakfast, wrote my Morning Pages*, and I’m sipping my hot cacao drink. But the parts that require the kitchen have been uphill this morning. I’m now working on my daughter’s lunch. I’ve had to empty and clean out the food processor in an already full sink in order to grate the carrots for said lunch. The bag of carrots was not in its usual spot in the fridge and I am having to take some time to locate her lunch box and unwashed containers amid the chaos.

As my daughter polishes off her porridge, it dawns on me: Ah, I know what this is.

This is my brain saying SLOW DOWN.

In relief, I can’t help but laugh out loud. Finally, my brain says in kind mockery. It can now relax because it knows I can take it from here. We’ve been here before.

The state of my kitchen reflects, as it always does, how my brain has been feeling these last few days. When my brain is overloaded (even with good stuff), stressed or tired, it needs time to slow down. Time to fully be present peeling and chopping an onion. Time to focus solely on the sound of the small even pieces hitting the hot, oiled frying pan. It needs the satisfaction of putting the peels into the compost and of smelling the onions as I gently stir. When my brain is overworked it’s like a conveyor belt going too fast. As a result, nothing gets done effectively. All efforts are compromised.

This brain state, for me, leads to anxiety. Call it a blessing or a curse. The fact is I need to slow down today if I want to keep anxiety at bay. It’s taken me many years to learn this lesson—that ‘pushing through’ can cost me days. That surrender is the only path back to health. Back to productivity. And so today is about prevention.

My phone is set on silent and tucked out of sight. I’ll resist checking it as much as I can.

I drop my daughter at school. We are late. But that’s okay. I know why.

I stroll home. I cancel my meeting. I mourn what I wanted to get done and I remind myself that taking 48 hours to reply to email is something that I’m okay with. I am lucky—there is nothing I must push through today. I detour to cross Spadina at Dundas, Chinatown’s busiest intersection. I don’t know why, but moving slowly in the bussel somehow calms me. It helps me to reset.

I get home and download an audiobook from the library website**. No books about entrepreneurship, anxiety or writing allowed. This is a time for what I call ‘cozy fiction’. A nice story unrelated to any passions, current projects or work. Something that can fill the air with an enjoyable indifference. I know that I have to choose something quickly. My shaky brain doesn’t, at this point, have much energy for making small decisions. I see ‘Pride and Prejudice’, quickly hit ‘Borrow’ and ‘Play’. Now the Bennet sisters can keep me company as I fill the sink with soapy water. My kitchen and my brain are slowly returning to an ordered state. I’ve caught the chaos relatively early. I don’t have to scrub floors, clean the oven. A little surface cleaning will do.

I take a nap, wash the soaking pots and find what I call a ‘slow show’. A go-to for me is Winnie the Pooh***. No frantic storyline, no flashy graphics, no hook at the end to pull you into the next episode. Eeyore helps reset my tempo. I leave extra early to pick up my daughter. The slow walk is good. I’ve packed some stories and our sketchbook. We are going to stop at a coffee shop on the way home.

Tonight, I’ll go to bed when my daughter does. My kitchen still needs some more tidying. I’m committed to making it a priority tomorrow and the next day.

Anxiety doesn’t tuck me in. I have a feeling it’s changed its plans.

*Created by Julia Cameron: three pages of stream of consciousness writing, in cursive, done first thing in the morning.

**All you need is a Toronto Public Library card to access a huge selection of audio and e-books online. https://www.torontopubliclibrary.ca/detail.jsp?R=EDB0095

***https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpIT3t3_t7A