Appearance.

Thursday evening. My childhood home, Junior Year in high school. I typically don't invite people over to my house, mainly because I've been to theirs and, well, mine seemed a little less than. This was not necessarily in what we had, but how we maintained it, our standard of care. You see, just like any college male would attest to, boys can get used to some pretty filthy situations. As a child, it wasn't filth, as much as it was lack of maintenance.

I could probably still fit into that shirt. 

Let's do the math. Four boys, at least three dogs, three cats, maybe a bunny in someones room, a mom who worked over-nights, a father who just worked excessively, and extracurricular activities equate to a neglected home. Our house was dirty. That I will agree to. It was worn, it was beat up, it was used to the max of those support beams. Essentially, we lived.



As soon as plans with classmates came to the inevitable "my house," like as a date or getting picked up to go out, I knew that I was going to be spending the next 24 hours, outside of school to clean the house to a presentable fashion. Needless to say, it was hard for me to see certain things, until I would go to other kid's houses, smell this certain odor I could only attest to being clean. My house did not have that smell. We also, didn't do little things like dust. I had no clue families outside of TV shows did that. I thought it was as made up as the amount of free-time kids seemed to have during the school day. Kids having conversations in the halls, before school, during class even, all while I was happy just to get there.



Ignorance is bliss, and as a child you don't know what you don't know. In fact, having worked with kids in impoverished conditions, in house, they don't even realize that they are in substandard conditions. Just like in the summer time in our little country house, we had no air conditioning and I just attributed the constant fan motor noises as a fact for everyone. I thought only fancy hotels had air conditioning, and never really thought why my friend's houses were more comfortable than mine in the summer.

Waiting, just to mess it up. 

Well, unfortunately, a little bit of that untidiness still resides in me today. Whenever family, friends, even a plumber is coming over I cannot help but recall back to any hyper-critical days of cleanliness. I still revert to smells to cover up, wiping everything down, and almost shutting down the kitchen as soon as I am acceptably done. Even as I write this, I have just finished scrubbing down the kitchen and do not want the dogs going in.



I always felt like a cleanly house was an indicator of you as a person. I was always scared that if people saw an unkempt house, or a few crumbs left on the counter from this morning, yesterday (let's be honest), then that made me dirty and less of a person. I was always scared that a friend would pop in and see the dog hair, the clothes my brothers and I would pile up in the laundry room, or catch a smell that my olfactory bulbs were accustomed to. In fact, due to the apparent convenience of other people's houses growing up, I always had this fear that people would think they could just show up to mine. I had dreams that I was woken up in the middle of the night by some of the cool, upperclassmen. I would wake up and put a t-shirt on (after all it was hot) just in case.



My irrational fears drove me into an obsession that to be something of value, I had to present superficially valuable. I spent time on clothes, how I looked, certain aspects of grooming (like tons of hairspray) all to be what I thought others would love. I never knew that I could just be myself and be loved. I never knew until I was older that other kids just had things, had people over, did things, all without over thinking like I did.

I clean. 

Its funny how once you are shown something, you're no longer able to see something as you did before. Once I was shown that people think differently than I do, I was amazed at the ease it was to work on this. I get to go into every conversation, every interaction, every counseling session even, and remind myself that what I think is acceptable or what I think of something, is different than the person I am interacting with. We all see things differently.



The trick is to appreciate other person's perspectives. It can be hard to listen to others when you think you are the expert, however any successful person I have met with, I leave the meeting feeling good and motivated. I figured out why. Successful people typically listen. They learn from those deemed more intelligent in a field than them, this is how they continue to be successful. So, when I go into a conversation I try to listen to what the person has to say. I listen, no matter how ridiculous or wast of a time I fell this conversation may be. I challenge myself to understand this person feels that these words, this discussion, is important enough to talk through. I respect that and is the quality I like in a person. I might not like or agree with what a person has to say, however I respect that they said it, believe in it, and are doing the best they can to be somebody in this world. We all want to be important, sound knowledgeable, if you take that fire away such as interjecting another's story with one of yours, or answer with "I Know," then they might not like the conversation as much.



Just like I did not have to give myself childhood high-blood pressure whenever anyone was going to stop by the house, I am more than meets the eye. I am more valuable than the external things, the clothes, appearance, all the superficial stuff easy to focus on. I like the quality person and therefore want to be that same quality person, loving, laughing, and participating in life, not sitting back wondering how to do it better.