Making Mental Illness Work for You

I may be a little more bipolar that I realized. I know that sounds like being a little pregnant, but it would explain my anxiety attacks and the crazy organizational episodes that I have. As I have mentioned before, I suffer from depression and am appropriately medicated, thus the getting out of bed and functioning that I do these days. And I have emergency meds for anxiety should a panic attack pay me an unwanted visit, as they occasionally do. But the organizational jags that I go on seem close to the manic espisodes my mother experienced, as I remember them. Mom went on a spree, purchasing ugly ski caps for evey day of the week in one memorable episode and named all our plants (the wandering Jew was Moses) in another. Sadly her mania was usually a precursor to a hospital vacation. Mine just leave me with a little less cash and a highly organized home. I am aware and in control of my mania, should that be what I am experiencing, my mother was not.

I spent last week in a whirlwind of obsessive organizing, visiting the Container Store, Target and (cue the harps and singing angels) IKEA. I made it out of the Container Store with my dignity intact and surprisingly few purchases, mostly because I found a product that best suited my needs and bank account at Walmart. This was the only bad part of last week’s acid trip, as it were. I am not a fan of the Walmart shopping experience. It is not a big box aversion; I love Costco and Target. There is something beige and depressing about Walmart that not even the insanely low prices can hide. The lighting is so Soviet Union-esque (or at least how I imagine it would have been). Luckily I knew what I needed and which local outpost had it in stock, so I was in and out quickly with only a minor buzz reduction.

The climax, however, was my trip to IKEA. It was a two person operation, so after some creative negotiations, Bob and I were off to IKEA; on a Saturday: during a sale (OK, the last part I did not know, but bonus for me – a little slice of hell for Bob). The cabinet that would match all the other home office furniture was unfortunately not on sale, but since this is a room only we go in to (’cause the rest of the house is Grand Central Station, or not) I was willing to mismatch for savings. One hideously long line and a small skirmish regarding which of the sixteen loading zones Bob was parked in (not the first or even the second one I dragged my heavy cart to) and we were done. I was in assembly and organizing heaven Sunday morning. The results:

ShoeBoot Rack

It occurs to me that these photos would be so much more meaningful if I had bothered with before shots, but look at the beautiful organization!