“We laugh, we hurt, we fall, we get back up. We’re a mess. And that is… fantastic. Being messy just means being alive. And we could all do with being a bit more alive.” – Rebecca Welton [1]

I’ve always liked the word messy. I’m inclined to say it’s a word that makes me go mmm…! However, I just checked the dictionary definition and was confronted with synonyms including dirty, scruffy, grimy, filthy and unpleasant. Hmmm… This language game is tricky, isn’t it!? Apparently, according to Google’s AI overview, calling someone messy often means they love drama, spread gossip, stir up conflicts or act out of control. Really? The AI overview also tells me that “in subcultures like drag and queer communities, “messy” can affectionately or critically describe the raw, unpolished, and dramatic reality of human behaviour when secrets come to light.” [2] Which fits more closely with my interpretation of the term. Certainly, the reality of human behaviour bit.

That’s how I interpret ‘messy’. Real. Ordinary. Human.

Life. And being alive.

Looking back through other blog posts I’ve written, I’m struck by how often I’ve used the term. In my first post about why language matters, I wrote that, “real lives are complicated and messy – tangled webs of aspirations and expectations, memories and dreams, hopes and fears, opportunities and barriers. Real lives don’t fit into our neat categories”. [3]

In my post about blaming words, I suggested, “real lives are complex. Messy. Rainbow coloured crayon scribbles on crinkled and torn pages. Stuff happens – or doesn’t. Too much. Not enough. Stops. Starts. Loops back. Dead ends. Creeping, miniscule shifts. Rapid, devastating changes. Balancing. Juggling. Waving. Falling. Drowning. Real lives don’t fit the straight lines of our ‘system’, the black and white boxes on our forms.” [4]

When I wrote about ‘rewilding social care’, I suggested “the natural world is a joyous riot of colour, particularly at this time of year as an abundance of blossom clings to tree branches, vivid green shoots emerge from rich soil, and daffodils carpet the ground. And good lives are a joyous riot of colour too. Vibrant. Messy. Glorious. But our current ‘system’ with its one-size fits all solutions is a monotonous monochrome.” [5]

In my post about the term ‘pathway’, I said that “real lives are messy, not linear. Plans evolve, and collapse. We try things out, make choices – and mistakes, change our minds, learn – and forget, feel lost – and found. We carve our own unique path, and we often require allies and advocates along the way.” [6]

When I wrote about ‘care’, I wrote that “care is laughter and kindness and tears and messy and complicated and heart-breaking and joyous.” [7] And in my post about ‘Joining the dots… letting love (back) into social care’, I wrote that “relationships are messy. Connections take time. A relational approach does not fit easily within our current linear, process driven system.” [8]

There are some definite themes. The link with “real lives”. And with joy. With nature and with colour, in contrast to the “monotonous monochrome” of serviceland and “the black and white boxes on our forms”. And with human relationships, love and relational practice, in contrast to the “neat categories” and “straight lines of our ‘system’”.

And I know I’m not alone in this interpretation of the term.

As I mentioned in my previous post about ‘hoarding’, Open Future Learning suggest that “people with intellectual disabilities deserve lives that are not simply protected they deserve lives that are joyful, ordinary, messy, meaningful, and unmistakably their own.” I added that “we all deserve lives that are joyful, ordinary, messy, meaningful, and unmistakably our own.” [9]

Here messy equals ordinary. Gloriously ordinary.

Ruth Allen described social workers as “always in the midst of the messy stuff, finding ways forward.” [10] And the Social Work, Cats and Rocket Science gang suggest “the messy stuff” is where the best social work excels”. [11] In a post about rights-based practice they write, “as a social worker you will have the chance to inspire, challenge, provoke, reflect and make a real difference to people’s lives. Never feel embarrassed talking about love and hope. Expect to make mistakes, it’s only human, be open and honest when you do, and you will find they make you a better social worker. Never compromise on upholding rights and being an advocate for social justice. Prepare yourself. Take a deep breath. Step into the messy stuff with us.” [12]

But Ruth’s reference to “the messy stuff” doesn’t always land so well, and a couple of times when I’ve shared her quote, people have expressed some unease at the phrase. I think this is because messy sounds like a judgement. A criticism. Or because it can maybe be interpreted as minimising the complicated realities of people’s lives. Or it suggests that people only interact with social workers when their lives are a mess, ignoring the role of social workers in ensuring people’s lives continue to work well.

Or maybe it’s because we just don’t like messy.

In Serviceland, messy equals disordered. Disorders. People with problems. Messy equals non-compliance. Refusal to engage. People as problems. Problems to fix. People to fix. Demand.

In Serviceland, messy equals complex. And complex means we don’t know what to do with you. Messy doesn’t fit our pathways and processes. It’s not efficient. We like order. Throughput. Flow. Messy gets in the way of that.

And in Serviceland, messy equals chaotic and chaos equals risk. The latest Social Work, Cats and Rocket Science post ponders “what would happen if people like L.S. Lowry, Lucian Freud or Tracey Emin came to the attention of Adult Social Care before they became celebrated artists. Would we have recognised their individuality, creativity and purpose, or would we mainly have seen risks that needed managing? The post acknowledges that “sometimes we move people into lives dominated by rules, routines, care plans, risk assessments, medication schedules, bedtimes and organisational systems. The infrastructure we build to keep people safe can, unintentionally, become the infrastructure through which we make their lives conform.” [13]

When we’re little, messy often equals fun. Creativity and learning. Those early days of weaning when we wear as much food as we consume. Finger paint and glitter and glue. Jumping in muddy puddles and kicking up leaves in the park. But now baby food comes in squeezable, suckable pouches “for easy, mess-free consumption”. In some primary schools just 14p is spent per child on art materials – “barely enough to buy a single crayon.” [14] Some schools refuse to display art on classroom walls as it’s deemed too distracting. And in our parks people wearing high-vis jackets wield blowers to tidy up leaves and groups of nursery school children walk in crocodiles, harnessed together or clutching a rope to ensure “that they don’t get into a mess and stay safe”.

It’s interesting how, in Serviceland, we equate order and tidiness (i.e. not messy) with wellbeing and safety.

“Keeping your home clean and tidy has many benefits to your health and wellbeing.”

“A kind care assistant visits to help keep things clean, tidy and safe.”

But in a powerful post on LinkedIn recently, Eliza Fricker equated messy with safety and with the feeling of home. She wrote how, as “a teenager at school, I would seek refuge and solace in the art room and library, places with things to look at, personal objects, a bit of mess. These were where I could anchor and feel safe, away from the sterile, the anonymity, the places of authority and order.” She goes on to talk about how our institutions are “so hard, bereft of comfort or warmth” and considers why this is. “To show order? To not encourage deviation?” She concludes, “but where does it leave those, us, who feel it all, and not in a good way? Who feel unsettled, uncomfortable, unable to settle somewhere that feels anything like home.” [15]

I have no doubt that some people would describe me, and my house, as messy. Or certainly not tidy. And I guess my house is messy, because I prioritise creating over tidying and cleaning, which I find relentless and unrewarding… the piles of clothes quickly return as does the cat hair on the floor and blobs of toothpaste in the sink. It’s messy because I live with two teenagers and one cat and we’re all busy getting on with our lives. It’s messy because we have more important stuff to do than tidy up. The stuff that matters most to us.

So for me personally, messy equals creative. Busy. Happy. Family. Love. Belonging. Safety. Home.

Real. Ordinary. Human.

Life. And being alive.

And surely that’s what social work and social care is all about?

All of us living the lives we choose to lead, in the place we call home, with the people and things we love, doing what matters most to us.

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References

[1] We laugh, we hurt, we fall…, Rebecca Welton, “Being Alive,” Ted Lasso, Season 4, Episode 10, Apple TV, 2026.

[2] Messy, Google

[3] Why language matters, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 9 August 2019

[4] Words that blame, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 23 April 2022

[5] Rewilding social care, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 8 April 2023

[6] Words that make me go hmmm: Pathway, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 19 April 2025

[7] Words that make me go hmmm: Care, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 31 May 2020

[8] Joining the dots… letting love (back) in to social care, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 21 February 2020

[9] Hoarding, Bryony Shannon, Rewriting social care, 7 October 2026

[10] Welcome new social workers, Ruth Allen, Professional Social Work, September 2018

[11] Stay another day, Social Work, Cats and Rocket Science, 15 December 2019

[12] Social care future, Social Work, Cats and Rocket Science, 14 November 2018

[13] When difference looks like risk, Social Work, Cats and Rocket Science, 3 October 2026

[14] Children starved of art lose their creative spark – and the country its cultural future, Catherine Milner, The Observer, 27 September 2025

[15] The other night I sat down with a teenager I know…, Eliza Fricker, LinkedIn, September 2026