Where is Your Mountain of Shame?

Where is your mountain of shame?

Mine is currently sitting atop my dining room table.  Unless you are Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa or Martha Stewart, you have a mountain of shame … somewhere. 

My mountain first arrived after I had kids.  But I honestly cannot blame them.  Though it is true that with children comes stuff (a lot of stuff), and less time (a lot less time), you can have a mountain of shame with or without children.  However, if the mountain appears before you have children, (spoiler alert) it will only get bigger!!!! 

When I lived in a three-room apartment with two young children, my closet hid my mountain of shame.  I had a small walk-in closet, my sanctuary of pretty things.  But I could never wear any of it.  I was restricted to only wearing the clothing and shoes closest to the door.  I couldn’t get around the mountain, but at least no one was the wiser of my shame. 

When I moved into a larger home, the mountain moved with me.   Instead of taking up residence in my dark closet, away from prying eyes, it set itself up front and center in my dining room for all to see.  I thought, if others could see it, I would be shamed into tackling it and making the mountain a molehill.  But just like Cersei’s walk of shame in Game of Thrones, my public shaming did nothing.  Because my mountain has nothing to do with shame; neither is it due to laziness.  The culprit is time.  I just don’t have time to tackle the mountain.  Or rather, the time I do have I would rather spend with family or friends.  My mountain isn’t my priority.

Some would argue that maybe if I purged my belongings, hugging them for their part in the story of my life and then releasing them to bring joy to others (thank you Marie Kondo) my mountain would be defeated.  Alas, this isn’t the answer either.  At least this is not the answer for me.  My mountain is made up of family photographs, baby books, and broken pieces of various things that I have been meaning to fix.  I am not getting rid of these things, but need time to attend to them, to care for them, and find them their permanent home.

In many ways I felt alone…. I felt as if I was the only one with a mountain of shame, and then it happened.  While folding laundry one day, I put on the T.V. and noticed Joanna Gaines of Fixer Upper fame, up to her eyeballs in her attic looking for something; her attic was A MESS.  It was unkept, dusty, and … REAL!  I convinced myself that I would move into anything Joanna designed.  I would even move into her hen house- I kid you not, her family garden is straight out of a fairytale.  But her attic, not so much.  

Sometimes I wish that there was a reversed Before and After.  I would love to have a camera crew and randomly knock on the door of Magnolia/HGTV interior designers Joanna Gaines (Fixer Upper), Erin Napier (Home Town), or Grace Mitchell (One of a Kind) to showcase their Mountain of Shame.  Not to shame the designer of course, but rather to provide comfort in the knowledge that the rest of us are not abnormal for having stuff and no time.  These designers create a perfect oasis for their clients, and I would argue that they would say their designs are relatable and livable.  And they are.  But everything seems to have a home.  No shoes out, all coats in a closet, no handbag, just to name a few things missing from relatable day to day living. 

Now I relish the moment when I catch a glimpse of reality on the designer shows.  In No Demo Reno, a new show with interior designer Jennifer Todryk, I love when she has design meetings in her large kitchen only to catch a quick (off camera) glimpse of a room behind the kitchen with what appears to be a ton of kids toys in a pile.  It’s like playing Where’s Waldo?.  When you catch a glimpse of imperfection in an oasis, it’s like a big warm hug, and the realization that your shame is not shame at all.  It is just a large dose of reality: Time waits for no (wo)man!

So I ask again…. where is your mountain of shame?

Photo by I @ingmarr on Unsplash