My desk is a mess. My childhood teddy bear lies nose-down on a memo cube a teacup, two tealight holders, and an oil burner crowd out my desk lamp. Stacks of books surround me. Little notes are scattered everywhere. It’s not even controlled chaos. It’s simple unadulterated chaos.
The mess on my desk reflects the state of my mind, to a degree. Clinging on to the familiar and safe (my teddy bear). My commitment to university in the face of the odds of mental health, parenthood, and general life (the stacks of books). My journey to finding peace amidst my often chaotic life (candles). My scattered attempts to organise my life into some sort of coherent, consistent reality (notes). Finally, the teacup, which represents the solution to much of the madness – relaxing and taking time out to think and plan.
It’s a bit of a cliché to take the contents of a personal space and interpret them as a reflection of the self that occupies that space. I could look at it as a disorganised uni student’s life, with no further meaning than just mess. But that’s not any fun at all. My teddy bear and teacup beg to be representations of a difficult inner self.