Trying

Well well. Another journaling already! Hopefully this one won't be as effing long though. 
I live in this lovely apartment with lots of natural light and it's own shower. It's really too bad I treat it as poorly as I do because it could be the cutest of places. The point is that I am a messy person. I am on of those types that function best amidst chaos. You will see a heap of random mess, I will still find whatever I'm looking just as fast as someone who keeps everything in the same tidy spot. Some people can't focus when there's just a few socks laying about, you'll find me engrossed in study books while the mice are going about in the corners.
Well. Not really. But almost. 
It really doesn't bother me. Until it bothers me. One day I'll get up and be like, woah, this mess, this needs to change! Suddenly I'll get all can-do and clean up everything and make the place look cute and cool while I'm at it. Then I feel satisfied. And won't really do much until the next time the mess starts to bother me. Like. Half a year later. 
That's how I am. I always had the feeling I should be different though. That I should be able to do regular washing and cleaning like every other sane person. My mess is okay for me. But I'm deeply ashamed to expose others to it. When I know people are coming over, for 3 days I turn into this desperate "must-clean-and-make-look-normal"-mode. Same for today, since I knew my dad was coming over. And usually I get it done, one way or another.
Not today. I had slept badly and woke up feeling extremely anxious and unstable. I couldn't bring myself to clean up. I just couldn't. And the thought of my dad coming over and expressing his feelings on my miniature pigsty was crippling me possibly even more. I tried to call him and tell him I was in a bad way. All I ended up saying was I had slept badly and didn't feel well, yes I'll see you in an hour, bye dad, yey. 
I cried. Played piano. Cried some more. Then called my mom who was home. Explained her that I was feeling extremely anxious about my dad coming over to my insufferable mess. (My dad always wants to fix everything. So I was afraid that when he'd come over, he'd want to go and clean it all up, sending me deeper into my throes of desperation and shame). 
My mom is a saint. She asked me what the heck I was worrying about. "You are a messy person. That's who you are. And we love who you are. So don't worry about a thing. You just do things the way that works best for you. We want you to be free to study the way you want, live the way you want and do the things you want. We won't care about your mess if it doesn't bother or hurt you." She said she would call with my dad, while I would try and pull some make-up tricks to hide my swollen red face and puffy eyes.
My dad is super cool. Some awesome make-up tricks later he arrived and was just his cheerful self, not commenting on anything (believe me, there was a lot to comment on). He brought me some old photographs he had found of my old musical camps that immediately cheered me up, and helped me take care of an unexpected bill that had arrived by mail. Then we went into town, to the museum of modern art, had drinks and lunch, and raided some bookstores, having some great conversations along the way. We ended the day by having dinner in our favourite asian restaurant with sushi and beef glass noodle soup. Long story short, I had a great day.
It makes me wonder about the deep desperation I felt in the morning. It seems so futile in retrospect. Yet the fear and sadness were real. It was quite sudden. I wonder why I am so unstable lately. I wish I could just trust myself. Live from day to day believing things will be okay as I do them. Find my confidence. Real confidence. Not the laugh-gas-inflated one I had during my hypo mania. 
 
EDIT: Damn. It did get long.