My mental balance can be likened to the state of my house.
I refuse to clean if I am unhappy. The chaos of clothes piled knee deep in the laundry adds to the chaos I feel inside. It is a tangible and noticeable reflection of the misery inside of my brain.
The monumental, mount everest looking, pile of clean clothes moves from chair to chair, room to room as I dump them out of view. Dishes stack up on the kitchen sink until there's no cutlery left ( which is an everyday occurrence ) and at night I clean a days worth of spoons and bowls up so we can have something to eat our breakfast from... Which is lucky because I fear if we had more bowls, glasses and cutlery the dishes would sit for longer than a day...
The carpet is picked over instead of vacuumed and the bare minimum is achieved so that I can look back and say I at least did something productive.
At the moment my house is organised chaos, in the week after we lost again it fell to absolute pieces and we just stayed away so I didn't have to look at it.
Slowly. Painstakingly. I am recovering the equilibrium that is happy, productive, cleaning state of mind.
This morning I sewed missing buttons back onto 5 different items of clothing and even hemmed a pair of pants.
This is a good sign, not only am I doing bare minimum.. I'm marking the 'extras' off the list of to dos.
Tonight I even did some folding and put half of Mount Everest away. Happily.
The desire to fight is coming back to me.
This is how my brain usually works:
Catastrophic, mind crippling event. Everything falls to pieces.
Phone call to Simone " why does she never pick up ? " and then we talk through plan of action.
A week after catastrophe. Indignation.
Phone call to Lisa " why the hell is this happening to us " and then we talk about tender mercies or blessings.
Three weeks after ( what now feels like less of a catastrophe ) and more like a massive pain. Acceptance.
Phone call to Collette " we are going to die" and then she tells me I'm overreacting, slap back to reality.
4 weeks after ( what now feels like a bad dream ) faded into distant memory. Forgiveness.
Phone call to Mum " Yeah, that happened, but we will be o.k" and she asks to talk to Boy.
{ I am currently sitting at week three. Acceptance .. I am still finding it a hard pill to swallow. But we will make it }
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| picture from here |
The monumental, mount everest looking, pile of clean clothes moves from chair to chair, room to room as I dump them out of view. Dishes stack up on the kitchen sink until there's no cutlery left ( which is an everyday occurrence ) and at night I clean a days worth of spoons and bowls up so we can have something to eat our breakfast from... Which is lucky because I fear if we had more bowls, glasses and cutlery the dishes would sit for longer than a day...
The carpet is picked over instead of vacuumed and the bare minimum is achieved so that I can look back and say I at least did something productive.
At the moment my house is organised chaos, in the week after we lost again it fell to absolute pieces and we just stayed away so I didn't have to look at it.
Slowly. Painstakingly. I am recovering the equilibrium that is happy, productive, cleaning state of mind.
This morning I sewed missing buttons back onto 5 different items of clothing and even hemmed a pair of pants.
This is a good sign, not only am I doing bare minimum.. I'm marking the 'extras' off the list of to dos.
Tonight I even did some folding and put half of Mount Everest away. Happily.
The desire to fight is coming back to me.
This is how my brain usually works:
Catastrophic, mind crippling event. Everything falls to pieces.
Phone call to Simone " why does she never pick up ? " and then we talk through plan of action.
A week after catastrophe. Indignation.
Phone call to Lisa " why the hell is this happening to us " and then we talk about tender mercies or blessings.
Three weeks after ( what now feels like less of a catastrophe ) and more like a massive pain. Acceptance.
Phone call to Collette " we are going to die" and then she tells me I'm overreacting, slap back to reality.
4 weeks after ( what now feels like a bad dream ) faded into distant memory. Forgiveness.
Phone call to Mum " Yeah, that happened, but we will be o.k" and she asks to talk to Boy.
{ I am currently sitting at week three. Acceptance .. I am still finding it a hard pill to swallow. But we will make it }
Love this post. Life is like that from week one to week four moving from pain through to acceptance and then gratitude. So pleased you can ring and everyone can support in their own ways. Glad you're feeling better & getting into that housework :)
ReplyDeleteoh wow ...i cant even begin to imagine what you are going through...sounds almost fatal..but then in the gospel ..we know it is part of the bigger picture... maybe Hunna has a huge job just around the corner that will see him promoted to top dog straight away..never give in to that dark washing basket boggey man...fold all that laundry and he has no where to hide ...XXXX nettie hugsXXX
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