The house is a mess. I mean truly a mess. I mess beyond fixing given our current state of finances. The carpets seemed ruined. Perhaps they’re not. Perhaps they would return to a normal shade of color without all the stains of dirt and mud and ink and animal vomit if we had them steamcleaned.

It really gets me down… very very very down. I walk around the house and feel a weight settle upon my shoulders as I look at each room, covered in dirt and mud. The couches covered in dog grease and ground-in dirt. The carpets so filthy that they still look dirty even after we vacuum them.

I don’t know what to do about it. I feel the same solution in my head that I feel about everything: oh, it would be better if we only had more money. If we had more money, I could put Lily in mother’s day out. If we had more money, I could get the carpets and couches steamcleaned. If we only had more money.

But of course, given conventional wisdom – wisdom passed down from our mothers and Disney movies – money is not the solution. Money is never the answer, says the spiritual leaders of our society.

So, if not money, what will relieve this pain of living in a filthy house? What will relieve this pain of taking care of a toddler by myself for at least 10 hours Monday through Friday? (Matt helps when he gets home from work and on the weekends.)

I haven’t found a solution obviously, but it does really help writing it down. I haven’t talked about the weight and depression that is fed by the filthiness of the house. The house smells like dog. Our bed smells like urine. The bathroom smells like ammonia (from the catbox not being cleaned out often enough).

I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to live in filth surrounded by dirt and foul smells. I can’t tell Matt any of this because he gets defensive. He is the provider, and the truth is, he has provided us with this lovely house and pays the bills and puts food on the table. We just haven’t cared for the house properly.

But I don’t know how to care for the house. I’m so tired. I have a toddler that clings to me. I wish I could describe exactly what it’s like to have a toddler. I am her world. I am everything to her. I am her entertainment; I am her food; I am her love; I am her teacher. She’s with me constantly and constantly interacting with me. I am consumed by her.

And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I do need a break from it. I can’t exist for another person all the time. I have my time to myself in the morning, during her naps, and at night after Matt gets home.

And it’s also not without its rewards. There is a love shared between mother and child that has no equal on this planet.

But it is tiring. And leaves me drained and with not much energy to do much else. And certainly not enough energy to maintain a 1350 sq ft house and the huge yard that comes with it.

So I’m sad. And happy. I’m happy because I have her and Matt. I’m sad because the house is truly filthy. I don’t like way it looks. And I really don’t like the way it smells. (I haven’t even mentioned the garage. It’s a nightmare.)

I want organization and light airy scents. I want flowers and mopped floors and toilets that shine. How does one create that when one has a toddler? How does one create that when one is so tired?

So I haven’t found a solution.

Maybe I should just try working. The truth is, I’m quite lazy. I hate cleaning. I hate cooking.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I liked cooking for a little while.

So maybe I’ve just lost my way. Maybe I should just get up, brush myself off, and try again. 🙂

I’m terrified about having another child. I’m already finding it very difficult to have time for me with just one child. What happens when I have two children who want me to be everything to them?

I just realized why I have a difficult time telling Matt any of this. He always begins to worry and wants to fix things. He takes the blame onto his own shoulders and I hurt him with these thoughts. I don’t mean to — I don’t want to. But whenever I’m discontent, he takes the blame and it hurts him. And since that was never my intent – my intent is merely to vent – I have a hard time talking to him about this.

(The baby is crying. Brb.) (Okay, it was a cry in her sleep. She’s fast asleep.)

So anyways…lost my stream of consciousness.

I want a clean house. I want to start eating healthy meals at home again. I think I’ll start today.

I guess that was the main thing that has been weighing on my mind. I’m still a bit nervous. I can hear the Censor. “You’ll never do it,” it says, “It’s not possible. The house is too big. You are too tired. You are too lazy.”

You know, when I was reading about the Censor in The Artist’s Way, I thought, “I don’t have one.” I guess I was wrong. 🙂

And Julia Cameron wrote, (I’m paraphrasing) “Remember, the Censor is not speaking truth.” So these things aren’t true, but they feel true. How do you neutralize these non-truths that feel true? I guess the first step is to recognize that my mind is even saying these things. Like I said, I didn’t even think I had a Censor.

I don’t want these things to be true. I want it to be possible to have a clean house. I would love a clean house – love it. I’ve wanted a clean, warm, inviting, organized house for so long it has become a pain in my heart. I want to be surrounded by happiness and warmth.

That’s what I want to create. That’s why I want to defy my Censor.

I shall begin today. Perhaps I’ll report on my progress tomorrow.

Oh, that brings up another thing – I want the same thing in my personal appearance. I want clear and bright skin and hair. I want to wear clothes that express fun and are not merely functional… even drab as they are now. I loved the clothes in The Devil Wears Prada. The way they draped; the way they fit the body.

I want to change so badly!! Not my inner core. For the most part, I really like who I am. I want to change where I live – both my house and my body.

I can do it. I can do it. I will do it. It’s very exciting. 🙂