What I really want to be saying right now is :

F YOU, IKEA! Go take your Hemnes 8 drawer dresser and shove it.

People. I am afraid. Afraid for my mental well being at the moment. Forget I ever mentioned what a wonderful staying in the moment experience this moving thing is.

I take it back. Until I un-take it back tomorrow and probably everything else I’m about to say.

It took Brother and I over an hour and a half just to lay out all the pieces to this dresser. All perfectly in order. We were feeling all fancy free and smart until the dreaded words came.

The ones you hope you never hear when assembling furniture … “It’s wrong. Definitely wrong.”

I asked only 10,000 “are you sure’s” and willed it not to be so … but alas. I was so distraught that here was the only place I knew to come to.

So you can see me in all my exposed, flawed ways.

I’m annoyed. I’m pissed off and I feel like everything is spinning horribly out of my control. All over a god damn dresser. Stupid stupid and stupid.

But hey, who likes being inconvenienced by an unnecessary Ikea trip where I’ll probably end up getting a minimum of five other items I don’t really need but that Ikea has convinced me I do need.

All Hemnes aside, here’s what is really going on, People.

Me and my neurosis. Me and my desire to be settled, to actually be able to put away clothes. To not have a spare bedroom that is literally spilling over with shit that I had no other place to put and where I could just close a door and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Where I have half an office in disarray. Where I can’t find anything, let alone my clothes.

People. I do not live in disorder. My living spaces, while far from perfect, maintain their own order and systems that work for me — even if that means having a box where random things go that I have labeled.

Prior to moving, I would have considered myself laid back. Go with the flow. Type A? Me?

Maybe what’s getting to me … is me … these parts of myself that I haven’t fully acknowledged, and that I half didn’t know existed … to this extent.

I feel like everything — all these experiences and even the general mess — is a big mirror, revealing the not so pretty of who I am.

I want to handle it all in stride, with a big smile on my face and an unfaked relaxedness … when really, I’m having a challenging time and lower self wants to throw a tantrum while higher self sounds too perky and peppy with messages of, “all is unfolding as it should be.”

Gawd. Higher selves. What a true pain in the ass they can be.

Then I start thinking … I’m failing. Utterly failing. I read about the Masters and all those super cool enlightened Peeps and am left thinking, I’ll never make it.

I can’t even handle an Ikea dresser not working out, so how am I supposed to conquer life?

I’m probably being too hard on myself. We all have our moments … right? I suppose? I guess I just expect more of myself when I know that I know these things.

I know how stupid it is – a Hemnes dresser. Really? Yeah. So not worth losing my cool over! Disorder? Annoying as hell, but it will get sorted. It is merely a transition.

Still. I get caught up in it. I want to scream out in frustration and then in frustration over the frustration itself.

I want to be that person who handles these things flawlessly. Who can juggle the disorder, work and life and still have everything looking good.

But maybe that’s just not me. I’m not sure what ideal I’m trying to live up to … whoever it is, feels far from just staying centered in who I am.

When I should be playing to my strengths. Remembering that Rome wasn’t built in a day, or my more preferable modern day comparison – Extreme Makeover : Home Edition takes literally hundreds {thousands?} of people and I’m working on a team of three here.

Alright so we’re not literally building and furnishing a home, but the point is, they have teams of people. So there! Perhaps there is hope for me — and Mastery — after all.

Ask me that tomorrow after Ikea.