My mother instilled in me the need to be orderly. I have never thrown clothes on the floor nor left dishes stacked in the sink. Had I done so in my mother's house, even as an adult, her sizable Lebanese hand would have whacked my bottom soundly. Interestingly, my mother was driven by a different set of needs than I was when it came to our personal environment. She was overly concerned with what other people thought about her. The parts of the house that you could see where absolutely perfect.
However the inner structure was in chaos. I was appalled by the state of my mother's closets and drawers. "What difference does it make?" she would say. "No one can see the mess!" This is where we parted philosophical company. I never saw a difference between the inner and the outer environment. I wanted everything in order because it made me feel calmer. Work was easier to accomplish in this ordered universe. Filing for me wasn't a problem because I set the files up to yield their treasures and absorb additional information. I didn't have stacks of orphan papers on every surface of my room. Getting dressed was a creative adventure because all my clothes were neatly organized in categories and by color. In my mother's "perfect to behold" bedroom, clothes lived in secret chaos. They were thrown into dresser drawers or jammed into her closet. You get the picture.
As a professional organizer I view the entire space as one unified whole that is capable of influencing our ability to function.
Next time: The Story of the Grunions
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