I’m going out on a limb here. I could totally be the only one.. .
But this is how I store Tupperware.
No joke. When I unload the dishwasher (oh wait, it hasn’t worked in 3 weeks) I meant to say “when I’m putting away my hand washed dishes”, and I see an item that goes in this cabinet, I take a deep breath. I crouch down low and scope out the best place to balance the item. I wedge it in. . . and wait for a second to see it if stays.
Then I quickly close the door.
Getting something out of this cabinet is like taking your turn in a high-stakes game of Jenga. If you make it past opening the cabinet door without everything tumbling to the floor, you instantly feel relief. Then you have to locate your desired item without moving anything. Heaven forbid, it’s in the middle, on the bottom. Inevitably, everything comes tumbling down.
You just lost 10 minutes of your life.
This is how too many of us live our lives. We are too busy to deal with all the little issues that come our way. So we just don’t. We just keep wedging little things, like our anger, hurts, desires, and even our dreams, inside the cabinet. We hope we can get the door shut and run off before anything falls out, much less before the whole thing comes crashing down. If we make it without a landslide, we take a deep breath a run along to the next thing.
What’s crazy is that cabinet door is just a facade.
It’s not really protecting us. It gives us a temporary and false sense of safety. It makes life easier to manage for the moment, but we know what’s lurking there. And we know we’ll soon have to face it again. We know that the outcome is uncertain and so we carry on, until we absolutely must crack that door again.
You know what I’ve found helps more than anything?
Opening the cabinet with a friend. Seems counter-intuitive right? Letting someone else see all that chaos? No way.
A friend who loves you can see the lids you can’t find. She can easily help you see what you need to keep and what it’s time to let go of. And when you’re ready, she’ll come pick you up and take you to the Container Store. She’ll hold your hand while you explore different systems that might work for you. Then she’ll sit on the kitchen floor with you through laughter and tears sorting Tupperware, as long as it takes.
But you’ve gotta let her in.
You have to open the door and face the chaos with her. You have to let go of the facade of your perfectly organized life. And through the years you’ll realize, it was never about sorting the Tupperware.
It was about the choice to share the journey, all along.
It’s up to you.
to more love,