I'm Messy

Okay, now I need to decide how honest I should be on here.....  I want to totally put it all out there but I am afraid.  What if no one is as bad as I am?  That would be a horrible discovery.  I am willing to bet that I'm not alone though.  The comments you all have shared have been wonderful to read (in a "I'm not the only one" way).

I clean in weird ways at weird times.  I'll give you a few examples...Last night at 9pm I went to take out the trash.  Not weird at all, right?  Right, except I ended up cleaning half the garage while I was out there.  Not planned, just started picking up and organizing until my family came looking for me.  The other day I went to do the dishes and ended up taking the stove apart to clean the drip pans under the burners.  They are clean, the kitchen is not.  In fact, we had to eat cereal out of tupperware this morning. 

You think I'm kidding just look at this.

Now in my defense the dishes on the right are clean and waiting to be put away.  The rest definitely need attention though.  I feel as if I am surrounded by dishes, laundry and paper all the time.  Paper?  Yes, and not the good kind of paper.  The amount of paper that comes into my home every day is obscene.  Good thing we recycle, right?

My "desk"

(I use the term loosely because I really don't know when I last sat at it and used it as such)

There you go, I'm putting it out there.

I am messy.

I don't want to be.

I don't like to be.

I am working on it.

Sorry the pictures are really bad, I took them with my phone.

Writing Is A Good Thing

I have to say I am terrified that I put this out there.  I am so thankful for the kind thoughts that have been shared.  It eases my fear a little bit to know that not everyone is scared off by me and my crazy ;).

I had a good day.  I got the kitchen cleaned and babysat for a really cute baby.  I cleaned the tub too!  I hate cleaning the tub.  Does anyone actually like cleaning the tub?  If you do I would love to become really good friends so you can come over and clean my tub.  It really should be done more than once a quarter, don't you think?

I was thrilled to discover last night that writing still helps.  I used to write a lot.....B.C. (Before Children).  It is therapeutic and all those negative thoughts are not in my head anymore.  I don't hate myself today and that is all I need to know right now.

P.S.  I am a bit annoyed though that we seem to have skipped Spring here in New England and gone straight to hot, humid Summer.

I Hate Myself

Sometimes I hate myself so much it is totally consuming. I hate the kind of wife I am, the kind of mother I am, the kind of friend I am. I could keep listing but you get the point. The sadness I feel seems to come from some outside source and I feel like I need to be comforted and the person that wronged me needs to pay. Then, I remember that it's me that has done this to myself and that is where the self-loathing comes from.
I have so much I want to be and do. I see a path that I am supposed to follow that will lead me to these great things. I wake up most mornings with a great plan in my head. I want to finally get caught up on laundry, finally get that mudroom done, paint the chairs I got for the dining room. I want to fix nutritious meals for my children. Play, color and read with Lucy. Go for a walk with my dogs. Clean the garage, clean my car. I am excited to choose from all of these wonderful things. Then it happens. I can't even describe it. It's is like when a water balloon gets a pin hole in it and slowly but forcefully all the water leaks out.
Fixing a snack for Lucy feels like the equivalent of the effort it would take to run a marathon. I want to sleep and I hate myself for wanting to sleep. It doesn't make me feel better it just makes me not feel. As long as I am awake I am aware of all the things that I am not doing. The little things and the big things. The little things I already spoke about, the big things bring me too much sorrow and self-loathing to even talk about in detail. I know I was not meant to be this person. The person I was meant to be is encrusted in layers of depression and hatred.
The depression is not me but it has me under it's control. I can't win because every time I break through it becomes stronger. You're not the only one who thinks I should stop feeling sorry for myself, I think it too. (Enter more self-loathing.)
I want to shout out to everyone who will listen (and even louder to those who won't) that I am ill. This is a sickness. A real, I have no control over it, sickness. Then I wonder if I'm just a lazy, fat girl who could control it if I really wanted to.