Depression: I haz it and it sucks

So much for getting in a routine and keeping house. Bullshit. At the moment, things are spiraling out of control. I just don’t care anymore. Well, I do. I care a lot. The dirt and piles that are accumulating are making me very sad and crazy, but I get no satisfaction from actually doing something about it, whatsoever. Get all the laundry caught up on? Who cares. It’s not really caught up on anyways. Get the kitchen spic and span? Yeah, right, that’s not happening any time soon. All I can think about is how I’ll have to do it all over again in a matter of hours. There is no motivation whatsoever. I’m sick and tired of everything. Sick of cleaning up pee accidents. And poop. So much poop. Sick of everything I touch being sticky, greasy, grimy, or all of the above. Sick of feeling the crunch on the floor everywhere I walk. Sick of the flies. Sick of cooking, but mostly sick of cleaning up. I don’t want to do ANYTHING. I want to stay in bed and cry. Or hide under the blankets so I don’t have to see the messy, filthy bedroom and forget about how miserable I am. Yeah, I know, I’m just lazy and lame. That’s what I’m thinking too. Except that this spiraling around the drain totally coincides with my running out of my inositol supplements a couple of weeks ago. Of course, it’s one of the more expensive of my supplements. And there is literally no money to buy more at the moment. It sucks. *I* suck. I know, depression lies, but at the moment I have no truths to combat those lies. I fail at all the things right now. Even the simplest things of keeping clean sheets on all the beds. Or keeping the trash can emptied. Or keeping a handle on the budget. Or keeping paperwork filed. Or keeping my kick ass desk clean and organized. Or cooking decent food. Or, or, or anything. I haven’t been yelling at the kids, so that’s good. They are the only source of joy in my life right now and we have fun. The only reason I get out of bed in the morning is because it’s my duty to them. And I don’t want to have to deal with the disasters that happen when little people are not supervised.

I’m learning that I don’t get depressed and cranky because the house is a mess. That’s what it feels like. That’s what I thought was my problem before I actually learned what depression is and that I’ve had symptoms for YEARS. The house becomes a mess when my brain starts going down, down, down. It has to do with brain chemicals and hormones and motivation and shit like that. But it’s awful hard to live in that hole and even harder to start cleaning up, figuratively and literally, the aftermath and climbing out of that hole without help. Ugh. Just, ugh. I don’t even know what to do. I can’t keep going like this. But what else is there to do? Literally, what else can I do about it? The supplements are out of the budget for now. As is any kind of counseling. Getting on top of this funk with “simple” positive thinking and gratitude seems positively impossible and overwhelming at this juncture in time. Miserable. And it’s not like talking to anybody else is actually going to help anyways. Farmer Man is busy. I can tell him, but what exactly can he do about it? Say, “Well, sorry about that, have fun getting back on top again?” He has too much to do anyways. Stuff like harvest and milking the cow and getting ready for winter and crap like that. Because there is NOTHING anybody can or will do to help. It’s all up to me. And it SUCKS. Dealing with it alone makes it even more overwhelming.

Leaving the house is a relief, somehow. But so exhausting. And there’s no money to spend and nowhere to go anyways. And nothing at home gets done while we’re gone. Not that anything more than the bare minimum is accomplished while we’re home as it is. I know, back to being sick of how gross everything, why don’t I just do something about it? Because, that’s why. Because in order to clean up the laundry room, I need to get the shelf over the washer and dryer organized. And to do that, I need to pull down the pile of heavy things that will fall on my head. And once I do that, I need to figure out what to do with the things that don’t really belong up there. And IF I get that far, I need to go through all of the clothes and sort them by size and whether I’m keeping them or not. And that’s just one room of impossibility. That’s the problem with everything. Why put something away if I don’t know where AWAY is and even if I do, adding this item to the pile where it belongs will simply add to that pile and I’ll probably forget where it is if I put it there, so better to leave it right where it is so I know where it is the next time I’m looking forward. So much logic, I know.

So much frustration, not enough words. Kids need to eat. I’m afraid to go upstairs because I’ve been sitting down here budgeting and paying bills because it NEEDS to be done, but I’ve been hearing the ruckus the whole time. *sigh*

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