I spent this weekend doing the kind of cleaning that only I am likely to notice.
I moved furniture and chased down a whole burrow of dust bunnies.
I went through drawers and cupboards and got rid of things I don’t need. Even that stuff way at the back where you have to get down on your hands and knees to reach.
I took care of tasks I’ve been putting off … cleaning the window sills, sorting through the treasures that had turned from “a few highlights” to “a pile of stuff”.
I said goodbye to energetic anchors, remants of projects long done or never to be finished, gifts from old lovers or friends that chain me to the past, clothes that will never be worn again.
I can tell I did good work. My body is pleasantly sore and I can look around and feel proud at the tidying up. I look around and I am happy.
But if you knew my home and had visited me here, I doubt you would notice. It’s subtle and it’s easy to miss.
It strikes me that self-care is a lot like that. The time spent sweeping the cobwebs from my mind, sorting through emotions to clean up the yucky mess, the sifting of memories to keep the good and move past the bad. Breaking energy connections that leave me sad and forging ones that highlight the treasures of friendships. And the sometimes heart sore feeling at the end of the process.
It’s easy to forget in the mess of the big things in life. But the invisible – or maybe just hard to see – cleaning brings and equal sense of quiet contentment at the end of the day. Peace of heart and home.
You might not notice if I didn’t tidy and if I didn’t work at self-care. But I sure would.