Growing up with an anxiety disorder turned me into a bit of a control freak. Not so much with other people, but in terms of myself, my routine, and my environment.
It's simply that the more I can control, the more I can predict, which quiets most of the irrational worries my anxiety likes to toss into my brain like Molotov cocktails.
Basically, it involves repeated exposure to a person's triggers in a controlled environment, in hopes of desensitizing them and thus removing the trigger's power.
It never really worked for me in terms of my anxiety disorder as a whole, but CBT, combined with other treatments, has allowed me to loosen up a bit.
And as for my control over my environment...clutter has returned to my life.
Oh, I do my best to keep my house clean, but I'm definitely freer about letting things wait in favor of self-care.
If the coaster on the table doesn't perfectly line up with the table's corner, that's okay.
If a DIY project has been sitting half-finished on the dining table for a few days because I'm busy with work or just need a break to unwind, that's okay too.
Is my bedroom floor currently a stuffed toy murder scene because Wesley decided to disembowel his squishy ball at midnight?
Yep. But while old me would have felt the need to get up and tidy it right then and there, new me rolled her eyes and went back to sleep. He was having wholesome, chaotic fun, and that's perfectly okay.
