What I Believe - Labels

What I Believe – Labels

 

I opened my front door and welcomed inside my neighbor and fellow ward member. She told me I have a beautiful home—you know the polite words to use when you first enter someone’s home whom you barely know, beyond their name. 

I understand. I’ve said the same things in similar situations, and dropped it there, not saying I love the color scheme, furnishings, art, or whatever stands out as distinct that seems to define that person to me.

Together my neighbor and fellow ward member sat with me in my living room for perhaps 10-15 minutes discussing our business at hand when she stopped and looked around as if seeing our surroundings for the first time. She blurted out, “Your home is so clean. So perfect.”

 

It was sweet, but such an abrupt change of subject that I was caught off guard. I thought, “Do I thank her or say, ‘Oh, you have no ideas what unkempt disasters lie behind closed doors that I still need to tackle and tame to perfection before I….” 

 

Nothing came from my lips because I didn’t want to announce I was putting my house on the market soon. But, even if I’d wanted to comment, I had no time because she immediately added, “You’re OCD.”

WHAT?

I had no reply—just a dead brain.

What did she just say?!? The comment echoed like there was nothing inside my head. OCD!?!

Nothing intelligent, humorous, snide or even polite came out of my lips, although several comments started bubbling up that I successfully refrained from saying. I simply went on with business as if she hadn’t interrupted us. But for the final 20-30 minutes little thoughts niggled in my mind: Did she want to talk about order? Was she focusing on cleanliness? Is she tuning into my decorating taste, style and skills? Is she compiling evidence to convict me of being over the top OCD? What is going on in HER head!?!

 

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder—OCD—you know the most obvious and common signs they list, so her words came as if she’d pointed her finger at me and said, “I’m sure you just washed your hands thirty times, you cleaned your house all day, and just before I arrived you straightened every object on your dustless mantle five times. Therefore, you are OCD. I don't even need to look in your closets or under your kitchen sink to know!"

I ignored the whole incident, got business taken care of, and walked her to the front door and let her out.

What I didn’t tell her was:

 

“While in my home you were and always will be safe from being labeled, knowingly and unknowingly, to the best of my ability.”

 

“While in my presence you will not be intentionally labeled by me, but I will defend you if others try to label you.”

 

“While you looked at my home and commented on how beautiful, clean and orderly it was, I didn’t tell you I’m currently in a mad scramble to prepare my home for sale, and I am standing back with a microscope and critiquing every inch. Every color is being challenge and every object is being reviewed, even those on shelves and inside drawers.” (Below is the result of what happened in my "Creative Room" shown in chaos above.)

“While in my home you had no clue what pressures I’m facing, choices I’m making, and the work I’m doing and why. And it’s not just lifting and moving objects, but I’m making decisions that affect our belongings and our current and future lifestyle, and that is sometimes gut-wrenching, fatiguing and difficult.”

 

“Probably on the day the For Sale sign enters my yard you won’t even remember your comment while in my home or consider how the sign correlates to what you saw while here.”

I’ve thought a lot about the hasty label taped on my forehead (that’s how it felt) and how it affected me then, as well as its after affects in the weeks that followed. I’ve thought about my cleaning and organizing habits, abilities and preferences.

Thinking about who we are and how we’re perceived isn’t negative unless we think it is and we end up letting it make us feel crazy. What came from this incident is:

Why do we label others without anything more than a visual or verbal cue that could be a million miles off base? What prompts us to tell a person what label we’ve just given them? (I’ve told people labels all the time?!? Yes, I have! “That is so cute; you’re creative,” or “That looks like you’ve worked hard in it; you’re patient.”) We all attach labels on others and then dance away feeling like we, I don’t know, like we complimented them? Assured them? Taught them or helped them? How can we know if our label was helpful or a hindrance? We usually can’t.

 

I’m assuming my neighbor never gave her OCD verdict another thought, but that doesn't matter. Also, I have no clue what her home looked like that afternoon or week, and whether it affected her perception of mine. Was it a war zone of laundry and clutter everywhere? So dusty she could write a novel on the end tables? A mismatch of stuff, things and colors? Disorganized with ill-defined spaces and narrow passages between heaps? Dirty with dishes and sticky messes on every surface? Wreaking with foul odors? I have zero idea how her home usually is, and will probably never know. It could be elaborate and magnificent and palace-like, making mine appear like impoverished cottage squalor in comparison.

Eventually my thoughts moved away from why we label others, because really, I could care less why she labeled me as she did, and my thoughts moved toward who I am—really and truly. Fortunately I know who I am (being a little older and living honesty has advantages), and the purpose behind why I do things the way I do, and why I’m currently stepping up my house cleaning and home organizing game. I knew clearly and exactly what my motivations were that day. My thoughts since then have focused on something else I’ve been wondering about for a lot longer:

 

Why are some people more inclined to be tidy and clean, and others aren’t? And, why are some people inclined to be organized and others aren’t? What are the defining characteristics between the two groups?

First, I know there is no group on one far side facing a group on the other far side. It could be pictured more like a long road with individuals all paused at any given moment at some point, and rarely are we stationary on that road. We’re all constantly moving one way or another at a shuffle, a healthy trot, plodingly, sprinting, etc....

Where am I?

I know where I am. Over the years my interest and skills in order and cleanliness have increased and my techniques have improved, so my direction is pretty well defined and clear. 

My motivations:

Beauty: I love to visually see beauty, harmony and balance. Order and cleanliness have naturally followed. I dislike encountering messes in a closet as much as seeing them on the kitchen counter. 

 

Laziness: One of my driving forces is loving to relax. I’d prefer to assign parking places for my belongings and arrange them there, and then sip an icy Dr. Pepper while I do something less strenuous or more rewarding. When it comes time to grab my car keys and go, I don’t have to search—I’m free to go. When I want to switch TV channels I know where the remote should be within a ten-inch radius. 

 

Budget: I’m a super tightwad. Period. I hate spending money on purchasing something twice when not necessary, like buying another this or that because the one I had got stepped on and broken because no one bothered to stoop down and pick it up and put it away. 

Last year I walked through too many filthy homes as I searched for one to buy. I’m talking about more than messy, cluttered and disorganized homes—I’m referring to stinky, disgusting, repulsive living spaces where men, women and children resided. They should have been nice homes in nice areas. They were filled with expensive furnishings that had been abused and neglected. The homes, their features and furnishings were not appreciated. The families treated them with disrespect. Everything dirty and broken could be moved out when the house sold, but how I’d viewed the home couldn’t be shaken from my mind. The disregard I witnessed was appalling. It hurt my heart to see the evidence of abuse and the lack of gratitude.

So why are some people clean and some not? Why some organized and others not? Why do some neglect and abuse and some don’t? Why do some people care more than others?

A couple of years ago I read several studies on these topics and discovered there were two camps: one claimed that free thinking ideas, creativity, better planning, higher production and more satisfying interpersonal skills and relationships came from those who live in clutter and untidy surroundings—even utter messes and chaos. Their brains simply don’t deal as much with their surroundings or get bogged down in them so much, so they have greater freedom to create, plan, develop relationships and carry projects through to fruition.

The other study found the exact opposite to be true. Those who lived in orderly surroundings and took responsibility for cleanliness and personal day to day routines of caring for their belongings and environment actually created more effectively, with greater detail and with greater spontaneity because they were not searching for equipment or tools, worried about unseen yet desired belongings, or concerned about how their surroundings might adversely affect their relationships. They were free to create, plan and carry ideas and project through to fruition more easily and with better results.

There you go—two camps. Who is right and which actually performs best?

I guess we can’t tell, can we, although I had a friend who confessed she never invited friends to her home as a teenager because her mother—an ultra-creative woman—had consumed every inch of the home with her projects and “junk” to the point there were no places to walk, sit, stand or move. Even the fridge no longer functioned as a fridge. But I had another friend who rarely invited anyone over because her mother was so picky about anyone stepping on her freshly scrubbed floor of putting their behind on her freshly vacuumed sofa. Both were extremes that occupied their lives and affected their families.

My thoughts lately have centered on why one person chooses clean and orderly, and another doesn’t. If both people thought it through logically and rationally from their own side and vantage point, and then switched and thought it through from the opposing side just as logically and rationally, what reasons and/or excuses would they select for their circumstances and choices? How would they label themselves? Would the make changes?

I can’t tell why someone else makes their choices, but I know why I’ve made mine. Besides loving beauty, being lazy and living within my budget, I also don’t want to be labeled in some of the negative ways I heard directed at me as a child and teenager. I was told I shirked responsibility. I was told I was immature. Those accusations affected me deeply because in my young teenage mind I thought I’d surpassed the expectations placed on me in those memorable experiences.

But those labels—hastily given and harshly administered at that time—taught me something valuable: never walk away from a job before making a 360 turn around to check every last inch to see if there is something overlooked or more that I can do that will make the job more complete and the outcome better. Those labels became lift-off points when I chose to be responsible not out of fear, but out of maturity and for personal satisfaction. They became a way of paying myself for what I’d done, and not expecting or demanding payment in any form from someone else, but also not feeling slighted, offended, hurt, angry or a failure if what I did wasn't noticed by someone else. 

I became who I am for myself.

 

It’s the same whether doing something in the home with personal belongings or in the working world. It didn't matter if I was cleaning my car, doing laundry, or invoicing or bidding jobs for my employers. 

Growing up I might have been labeled as immature and irresponsible, and my neighbor hastily labeled me OCD not long ago, but I won’t accept these kinds of labels. I consider myself mature and responsible with my home, surroundings, belongings, relationships and life, and not compulsive as if acting without thought or purpose. 

Another question: How do we develop a positive character trait without being labeled the opposite first, and feeling like we have to fight against that label? And what if we’re labeled something negative, do we rebel against the label or submit and accept it and live as if it’s our only plausible reality?

Can you see how powerful I consider the mind to be—each individual’s mind—and how I view the thoughts and words we consume (fed to us by others, or that we prepare and serve to ourselves), whether willingly, knowingly, or innocently as powerful forces?

My conclusion about labels is that the only binding ones are the ones we accept by choice—that we claim and own—the ones we act out and shape into our personality, reality and destiny. And many times those labels are not right, healthy or good for us, but we can change them if we choose. Others may openly or silently label us, but if we examine ourselves honestly, we’ll know the truth and can act on truth if we want, rather than on the labels. Words and labels, whether truth or not, affect us. But the real weight of their affect is something we personally choose. We are not victims or innocent bystanders. It’s not a matter of whether we’re gifted with wonderful soothing words and labels, or dumped on with painful ones, that give us options to choose from. We choose our labels no matter what comes our way. 

When we live life on the surface it’s hard to uncover our real motivations or excuses, but if we want to be honest about them and are willing to search a little deeper—remember honestly—we’ll discover our driving forces and our most common roadblocks. We know the fears that drive us to success or cripple us, and we also know the experiences and incentives behind our thoughts, words and actions. 

This post has been long. It’s heartfelt and serious. I’ve walked into extremely messy and hazardous home environments in my life and been able to focus on the individuals there. That takes courage and love. It takes patience and sometimes a strong stomach. It's a work of love. But knowing what I know about maturity, responsibility and love, it breaks my heart to see squalor and hear explanations and excuses, especially when I asked for none. Filth, chaos, lack of taking responsibility, excuses and disorder don't just decay a physical environment, but these also affect the persons living in that environment in social, emotional and spiritual ways. They hurt the souls and seep into tender spots in hearts and whisper unstable half-lies and solid untruths that become harder and harder to reject.

My plea concerning labels is to give them sparingly.

My plea concerning cleanliness and order is to love yourself, others and the environment you’re responsible for enough to care for it with maturity, responsibly, gratitude, and with love. If you've labeled yourself as a wreck or incapable or in any other negative way, pull that label off and stick on something more positive, and then begin the powerful and kind thought and heart work required to become a more positive "label"—to gain that more joyful quality.

Yes, my home is now on the market. And yes, you can open the closets, cupboards and drawers and not be traumatized. I don’t care what anyone thinks about my organization system or color scheme or styles. I do care about my financial asset and my present possessions, future belongings, my family, our lifestyle and our peace and joy.

 

The hymn Love at Home by John H. McNaughton contains this line: “There is beauty all around, when there’s love at home.” Often as I sang it as a child, or someone “preached it up” over the years, a conclusion was drawn that the hymn referred to spoken love and acts of kindness in a family and home environment. But even as a child I saw it as meaning love in not only how the people treated each other within the home, but also in the quality of beauty and love for the physical environment that houses us. 

The lyrics contains strong words: hate, envy, joy, annoy, love, bloom, bliss, way of life, sweet, strife, willing, rift, healing, pressure, task, etc. These words can be wrapped up in not only how the family thinks and speaks, but how they respond to their possessions and interact with them, including the walls over their heads, the floors beneath their feet, the items hanging in their closets and who is responsible for each aspect of the physical home and belongings. 

I believe that home is the most valuable personal space we have in this life. It’s our haven. I try to make mine give peace and protection in a multitude of ways, not just as a place to sleep, or a pretty canvas to live life on, or where most of our money is invested and spent so the bank doesn’t kick us to the curb. 

There is no OCD—let me repeat this loud enough so everyone hears—there is no OCD in washing the dishes you choose to own and eat off of every time you use them. There is no OCD in cleaning the floor you selected to walk on, or putting away the toys you spend your money on. There is no OCD in organizing a pantry so you can find the pudding, cold cereal and a can of soup. There is no OCD in folding and putting away clean clothing so it doesn’t wrinkle in the bottom of a “clean” laundry basket. There is no OCD in having dinner ready when you’re the stay at home person (or mostly so, or the first one home that day) because you know having a decent dinner together relaxes tension and lends to family unity at the end of a long day away from home. There is also not “It’s so 50’s, Mom!” about it when you love the person coming home and you look forward to sitting at the table with him while you eat and talk, laugh, plan and relax together.

Yep, I was handed another label this week. This time I said, “Whoa! Back that pony and cart up! I’m not dancing through the kitchen in an apron and pearls holding up a spoon for an image, or out of fear, or because of tradition, expectations or demands. I’m building a relationship and have chosen a time and place to nourish it as easily and completely as possible in the space of time I have in each 24 hour segment.” (Or something to that effect.)

(P.S. We just celebrated 40 years together. Not without bumps, but also not without love.)

Do you see, it’s not easy or obvious why others do what they do, say what they say, or why the labels they chose for us have no possibility of sticking despite their efforts, and vise-versa with the labels we apply to others!

 

Labels—when someone sticks them on you, or attempts to—be honest and take a look at it, realize they see only a small faucet of the jewel you are, and most likely they see it in an obscured, unfocused way. None of us needs to let any undesirable label stick. Pull it off, even if it takes time and a lot of tugging. Place the correct label on yourself boldly, and with confidence. And when it comes to others, do your best to encourage them to select the best kinds of labels that they possibly can, and to not label them negatively, even on accident (self-preaching here, too), and then beg for mercy and forgiveness when you do. Not always to their face, because usually that isn’t possible, but to your God who is full of mercy and sees all and knows all and loves helping us affix the best labels on our lives as possible.