We all have them. Secrets. The truth about ourselves that we don't want anyone to know, especially the people that we love. Because if the people that we love knew our secret, they wouldn't love us anymore.

Often, when I go to other peoples' homes, they apologize for the "mess." And I can only envy that "mess." Because I know what a true "mess" looks like. I live with it. I live in it. The worst part is that sometimes I believe I am it.

I want--and need--my apartment to be a home, a retreat from the noise and crowds of the city, a place to renew my energy and nourish my spirit. A place that I can welcome my friends for a visit.

But for too long, my apartment has been none of those things. Rather, it is a source of shame. My clutter is a sandbag of weariness that settles on my shoulders the moment I step through the door.

I have a vision of how I want my apartment to be. I'm going to be blogging about my process, my progress, and all the rest of it.

Yesterday was Day 1. I had a phone consultation with Lauren Rosenfeld (no relation), co-author of the book "Breathing Room." Looking over my notes from the call, I see:

"You are not the chaos, the confusion. You are actually the open room."