I’m a mess. I am completely and totally all over the place. It’s something I really can’t get rid of and have,ultimately,all together stopped trying to. It’s a personality trait. Mention my name to anyone I’m close to and I’m sure you’d get a laugh and an “Oh,Christina…” Followed by a few sentences of how sporadic,unorganized, over-talkative, and goofy I am. I am the very definition of the word ‘mess’,both inside and out, on paper and through actions. I trip often. I still don’t know how to tie my shoes correctly. Nobody can read my handwriting and a good majority of my college professors have written me notes informing me I need to work on it. I am known for my horrible,fast food eating ways. I take pictures of everything and don’t delete any of them. I am nosy to a fault and have found ways to make people ‘fess up. I want to know everything about everyone. I am not shy about what I want and if I’m close enough to you I will tell you what you should buy for me on special occasions . I finally tried to make a to do list and it turned into random papers and a five year plan all over my poor refrigerator.
I’m never happy just doing one thing, I’m unsatisfied with myself if I don’t get enough accomplished in 24 hours. I make people drive for me whenever they’re with me because I have major car-anxiety issues. My open-mindedness and un-willingness to make anything easy makes my head even more of a mess. I don’t judge anybody and I try to understand everyone’s point of view and because of this there are always a million ideas floating around in my head. I’m also too nice and this doesn’t help things. We have a strict no-bathroom policy at my retail store and when a woman looked like she needed to go I bashfully pointed her to the bathroom. I was lightly scolded for this but my boss later told me her and the rest of management was talking about what a giving heart I had, so much so that they just couldn’t get me in trouble for it. I don’t know if it’s that I have such a giving heart so much as it is that I live vicariously and I know what other people are feeling. Especially the urge to go!
My beliefs or lack of are another point of mess. When asked at my volunteer interview a few days ago what religion I would say I was, the conversation which was flowing before dwindled a little. “Um. I…I grew up Protestant. I’m not really religious now..I believe in God but I…I don’t know.” Why can’t I just lie or think of something simple,ever? “Oh. So would you say you’re agnostic?” At this point I probably tilted my head like a dog because I’m not familar with that term (I later looked it up) and I didn’t like the way it sounded rolling of the woman’s tongue. It’s a harsh word. So I answered something like “Um. No. Uh..Just put Protestant.” I like the way that word sounds anyway. I don’t know what I am really, but I found I couldn’t quite let go of the Protestant thing. I grew up this way so more than a belief, it’s my safety blanket. Another reason I’m a mess. I hold onto things.
I have journals and loose papers and other random memorabilia in a huge plastic box in our small apartment because I simple can’t let go of the memories. I need to be able to look back on all documentation of my life, smile and remember when. It’s important to me to know who I am and what I’m doing but also just as important to me to remember who I was and what I did. At the same time and to make me even MORE of a mess…I lose everything. My keys are a constant and just two days ago I locked them in my car. The very next day I left my purse with my id and debit card at the realtors office. I realized when we got home and to put it lightly, I freaked out. “Oh my God. What if somebody stole it. What am I going to do?! What if it’s gone forever?!” I was even more so a mess than I usually am because I was not instilled at all with a rational,calm factor. My husband is my calm. He spoke in a low, quiet voice and started making phone calls as soon as we walked in the door. “Christina, Go to work. I’ll find it for you,babe. I’ll call around, It’s somewhere, Nobody stole your purse. I’ll leave here as soon as I find out where it is and take it to you. Okay?” A couple deep breaths and two phone calls later he had already found it.
So yes, I am a mess. That’s me and it always will be. I’m balanced out by those who love me, and I’m more fun to have around because of the usually crazy girl that I am. I say, Don’t change your ‘bad’ parts. Unless they’re life threatening or hurting others, You’re usually more interesting with the mess. Work on them yes, but more than anything? Work with them and find people who will love you for them. Messiness and all.