Journey With ME

Do you want to know a secret?

Here is my mind (image below). It’s how it works, looks and feels to me. This jumble of words, thoughts, to-do lists, colors, shapes, languages, and disconnected ideas are ever-present. I once wrote an essay called, “The Comfort of Chaos” because this disorder has been such a constant inner presence.

This (image below) is how people perceive my mind. A neat and tidy, well-organized place. For most of my life, I have received compliments on my ability to organize and prioritize tasks. Imagine that.

At times, I even began to believe the myth myself. “Yes, I am a pretty organized person. Thank you.” But that is simply not true. I have spent my entire life working on being an organized person. During the years I managed Fulbright programs in Washington, D.C., I would spend Friday afternoons in my office organizing and re-organizing my files. There were so many scholars, students, and programs that my mind wanted desperately to sort them all out. Even once every application, policy, agreement, or correspondence was perfectly filed, I held this nagging feeling that something was misfiled or not properly labeled. In graduate school many years ago, I would rewrite my notes at least five times in an attempt to organize them. It’s taken years for me to truly accept that the lingering sense of disorganization was, well – me. I just think this way. My mind will constantly sort and re-sort, add and delete.

Self-acceptance is hard. Accepting that my mind isn’t quite as neat and presentable as it appears was super hard at first. Self-acceptance evoked many feelings, including grief. I had to grieve the false image of an ideal pulled-together me. I appear organized because I write and rewrite – do and redo – until I reach, at least, a basic level of organization.

I no longer feel the need to pretend that I am naturally organized or that my mind works like a neat line-by-line computer program or textbook.

The truth is, hiding parts of ourselves from the world for fear of rejection or judgement is common. We all do it. Truly accepting ourselves with compassion however remains far too rare. Accepting our flaws and weaknesses requires courage. A sense of humor also helps.

I certainly believe that God has a sense of humor. How else could I be wondrously made? And yet, I am. Organizationally challenged and all. Check. me. out.

But remember….shhhh….it’s a secret.