Maybe I am a mess. Maybe neither I nor Bridget are messes. Maybe you aren’t a mess. Perhaps, we are all just trying our best, and maybe just maybe that is good enough.
I feel a sense of shame associated with admitting how disorganised my room is. When I have people over, I apologise for the state of my room reflexively, even when I’ve spent ages cleaning it. I’m not so sure, however, that messiness is the flaw we treat it as. I think messy rooms are worth defending.