Sometime this week, I apparently lost my purse pouch of make-up. Now I don't wear tons of make up, but I do spend lots of time away from home, so it was the best place for my favorite lipstick, mascara, eyeshadow, mini-brush for Bare Essentuals, a Bare Essentuals in beige, and a small emory board.
DH jokes ( in a friendly way), that I could live out of my purse for a week or longer. That isn't true, of course, but I do always make sure that there's enough in there that boredom is kept at bay. This means there is usually a sketch pad, a re-purposed hard, hinged glasses case to keep pens in, a bottle of ink (or two), colored pencils, a novel, a knitting project and all of the "usual" things like make up, a wallet, a business card holder, and a cell phone. Oh, and a digital camera because my phone doesn't take pictures.
So it isn't entirely surprising that even with a 20+ pound purse, there isn't much room to spare. And with that much stuff, it isn't easy to figure out if "everything's there." Or that the purse could overflow and leave something behind.
I've looked under the seats in my car, in DH's truck, in all the places my purse is likely to have been in the house, at "our" Starbucks, and even under the desk at the office. No can find.
But apparently anything that is usually in my purse is something I consider essential. Essential to ME. And when it's lost (like the 100th sheep in the bible), I'll ignore everything I CAN find and DO have to look for it.
And here's the rub. When I can't find the lost item, I feel lost.
And like a loser.
DH is helping heal those feelings in more ways than he probably knows. First of all, he isn't critical or sneering. He is sympathetic. HE HELPS ME LOOK. He reminds me that it can all be replaced or even improved upon. You can correctly assume that I had many past experiences of being blamed, yelled at, made fun of, and left to my own devices when I mis-placed or flat-out lost something. Yet I don't remember any teaching, or lessons or encouragement about how to organize and keep track of things. I was told "put it away." Which I apparently translated (I was probably under five when I made this life-long interpretation) to mean:
Get that out of my sight. It offends me.
So I'm really good at hiding things from myself and others.
I could say these words: "Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, please come around. Something is lost and cannot be found."
I'm not sure Bosch's St. Anthony looks all that helpful.
I'm still hoping the pouch will surface. But I'm already working on being as sympathetic and forgiving of myself as DH is.
There are quite a few people who have made Proud postings of purse contents! Not me. Mine would look... wait. I'm being kind to myself (and you). While I AM proud that I'm never bored, I'm not proud of the chaos my purse contains.