Making Sense of the Mess

This summer has been short and sweet. 

It’s also been hell. 

Let me explain: I am a teacher. I work ten months of the year. I am also one of the fortunate ones who does not have to pick up a second or third job in the summer to make ends meet. My summers are wide-open expanses of hours, days, and weeks to fill as I see fit. Even so, it tends to fly by.

Normally, we have a vacation or two planned. This year we traveled to Canada and visited Banff and Jasper National Parks. They were stunningly beautiful, and I highly recommend both places!

Summer is also the time for personal goals, such as writing/editing, reading my weight in novels, and perhaps a home improvement project or two.

Every year I have a plan. 

And nearly every year I fail to complete it. But that’s a different story for a different time. 

This summer, however, was different. Because this summer we moved. 

A Special Kind of Hell

Moving is awful. 

For those of you who have done it, you know what I’m talking about. For those of you who have yet to experience the fresh hell of packing up everything you own, relocating the furniture and boxes, and then finding new places for your stuff in a new house… well, your time will come. 

So what does any of this have to do with being a neurodivergent writer?? Trust me, I’m getting there. 

In my adult life, I have moved five times. Each time it was like disassembling a jigsaw puzzle, then taking the pieces somewhere else to put them back together, but in an entirely different arrangement. Yet somehow they create a finished picture. 

The process of packing starts neat and orderly. Weeks before the move, I gather boxes and bins and fill them by category: pots/pans, dishes/silverware, bathroom supplies, linens, shoes, books, decor, etc. As each box is filled, I close and label it appropriately. However, as the moving date gets closer, the contents become more haphazard, and the label simply says “Misc.” But I digress. Eventually, everything we own is contained and shipped off to the new home.

However, the process of unpacking—at least for me—is much more complicated. 

Editor's note: same here; we moved in 2023 and at least 70% of my stuff is still boxed up. I have room for it but sorting is emotionally exhausting.

A Plan for the Process

The distractibility of my ADHD and the perfectionism of my OCD make it very difficult for me to mentally plan where to put my belongings in the new space. I’m not talking just about furniture. I’m talking about how to organize the kitchen cabinets, the bathroom and cleaning supplies, storage spaces, closets, etc. It’s overwhelming to think about one of these spaces, let alone all of them in a new house. 

My husband can’t stand the boxes and the clutter. He wants things put away and put away quickly. But we all know that once you put something away somewhere, it’s likely to stay there for the rest of your life. I need the organization to make sense. So, of course, he is not allowed to help because he will likely put things in the “wrong” place. 

Obviously.

Normally, a task this large would paralyze me. But I came up with a plan… and it worked! 

Step 1: Create an unstressed environment.

This means I kicked my husband out of the house. Because of Step 2 (see below), I knew the mess would send him over the edge. So I sent him out to play golf or run errands for an afternoon. Of course, this process took multiple days, so he should credit me for his improved handicap!

Step 2: Unpack everything.

Depending on which room or area I was focused on, I opened boxes and bins and pulled everything out at once. I realized that so much of my mental energy was spent on trying to picture what I had and where things should go, and then stressing that they wouldn’t fit or wouldn’t make sense in that particular spot. This way, with everything in front of me, I could physically see what I had to decide the best way to organize them.

Step 3: Figure out what goes where.

Once I saw which household items I had and considered possible places for them to go, it became much easier to find the appropriate cabinet, shelf, or drawer. For example, in my kitchen, I made sure the mixing bowls and measuring cups were near the counter where I food-prep, and serving platters were tucked up on a higher shelf because I use them less often. Certainly, there was a bit of “trial and error” if items didn’t fit where it made the most sense, but eventually everything had a place. 

Genius!

A Connection to Writing

I had a moment of clarity while wandering among various piles of my stuff that this “plan” could also apply to my writing. Most particularly revising my writing.

Again, I expend a lot of mental energy organizing abstract things with little progress. I’m a visual learner. I need to see things to make sense of them. I suppose this is why I’ve always been a fan of spreadsheets, because they categorize data all in one place. 

This is how I could apply my moving plan to writing/revising:

Step 1: Create an unstressed environment.

I don’t necessarily have to kick my husband out of the house (although it sometimes helps!), but I do need to make sure I am working in a place that helps me focus and aids my writing process. In my case, it’s usually a quiet room with no noise and few distractions (put phone on silent, use apps to block my access to Instagram, etc.). Allow time for my brain to wander and set alarms, so I don’t work through something important.

Step 2: Unpack everything.

Once I’ve decided what I’m working on—revising a scene, brainstorming for a short story, preparing query letters—I should make sure I have everything I need in front of me. For example, if I’m revising, I want a printed copy of the original scene, the story outline, my notes (likely found in my phone, emailed to myself, and handwritten on numerous Post-Its), a few favorite novels for inspiration, a thesaurus tab open on my laptop, and a pen and paper. This way, I don’t have to remember or search for anything. It’s all right there.

Step 3: Figure out what goes where.

Now that I have all the tools in front of me, I can consider the many possibilities of my task without draining mental energy wondering what I am missing. Instead, I can see exactly what I have and get right to work. It’s not foolproof, of course, but a girl can hope.

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Whether it’s unpacking your bathroom supplies or rewriting the muddy middle, it’s not easy putting a puzzle together when key pieces are missing. Oftentimes, you cannot move forward until you’ve found them. But when you have everything you need up front to finish the job, it can be very satisfying.

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About the author: Karen is a writer, teacher, audiobook lover, and Wordle enthusiast from New Jersey. She has ADHD and OCD and loves when a good plan (or puzzle) comes together. Her favorite activities are spoiling her granddaughters, traveling to warm climates, snort-laughing with friends, and sipping a good Cosmopolitan. Visit her online at www.karenkinley.com.