Itsy bitsy teeny weeny goals

I sat down to write a post even though I am not really feeling a rant or vent…And I thought, “Nope, you LIKE to write, but you’ve done nothing to EARN it.” In order to earn my right to sit down and spew via keyboard…I forced myself to put on clean clothes, wipe myself down, put on deodorant, and brush my fangs. Such normal little things others do without thinking and yet such a mountain to climb for me most of the time.

Pom poms waving, floats blowing up, rain falling on the parade-my kind of celebration. Tiny goals. Little rewards.

It’s a seemingly silly system and yet I swear it works wonders for me. This week I’ve been doing very little. Even errands into the dish are ten minutes or less. To earn my “drop out and zone out” time, I’ve been doing piddly little things to “earn it.” Like fixing actual food instead of nuking shit. It’s hard to find non frozen foods my kid will eat. Yesterday we had bacon and eggs. I fixed her grilled cheese for supper, a thick burger for myself. If you think cooking is a simple joy, you don’t know me. It takes everything I have most days to make a Nutella sammich, let alone dirty up the dishes I JUST got all washed and cook actual food. I am EARNING my flaky time.

It sucks to have such basic life functions become so insurmountable, so exhausting, and not be able to explain it to people. “You don’t work, you’re house is still infested with dustbunnies, how can you be tired?” I don’t know. It just is, with mental illness. If you have the flu, no one questions your lack of energy and listlessness. Mental stuff is no different. The world at large will never understand this. I’m not sure it’s even fair to expect them to grasp. I doubt I would if I didn’t live it. It’s the whole sporks thing. Everyone else starts out with an unlimited supply. I get so many and every uphill battle with the mundane costs me one. I consider friendship a draining task, and for me, it is. It’s not this energizing rewarding thing for me, I wish it were. I don’t need an audience but on occasion, I do wish I had one or two people I could count on. (As likely as pegacorns dancing the cha cha with beach balls impaled on their horns.)

Last night, as my reward for cooking, when my mood sank to subterranean levels, I allowed myself to go with it and retire to my bedroom crypt at 7 p.m. I was exhausted. My kid was a battery  bunny hopped up on Red Bull (metaphorically). To her credit, she did sit on the bed reading. (Never sure if she’s reading or if we’ve just read the same books so often she’s memorized it.) I lay there, mind spinning, body aching (hello, pms) and thought about all the stuff I could be doing. If I could just nap an hour and recharge,then she’d stay asleep if I let her sleep in my bed…It didn’t happen. Oh, she zonked before nine. I, on the other hand, in spite of my nightly Xanax, was still awake until almost 11. Stupid parasitic twin in my brain.

Sleep was the norm. Bizarre dreams, wake up, nod off, wake up, over and over. Come morning, I don’t even want to get up.

Today…I AM gonna shower tonight. It’s been three/four? days.. I must sound disgusting.  swear,I wipe down with baby wipes, use deodorant, etc. I don’t reek. Though the hair is looking pretty skanky at this point. This is normal during the winter. It’s unheard of during spring and summer. I’d really like to know what is going on. I’ve even been thinking about asking the shrink if there’s a some sort of blood panel to be run that might explain this shit physically. Low hormones, maybe the thyroid finally went wonky, maybe all the meds have given me ebola…IDK.

As a reward for my vow to shower, I am gonna hit a couple of yard sales this afternoon that are nearby. Mainly because the ad claims they have clothes in Spook’s size. I might find an odd or end. It’s mostly about her, though. She’s growing faster than I can keep up with. My mom is supposedly gonna buy her school clothes and dad and stepmonster are gonna get her school supplies. Not that I asked, but I’m not turning down any help when it comes to her getting what she needs. I figure forcing myself to get out of the house, go do something normally enjoyable, maybe it will force me to shower.

I love to shower normally. Nothing is as it should be. The doctor doesn’t seem to give a damn. I found out last appointment they don’t even have my files from the other psych place, which is 12 years he has no clue about. I should think the wrong diagnosis and wrong meds would be relevant to current treatment. Sad that mental health is given less importance than veterinarian care for pets. I hear stories of people awesome doctors, psych nurses, psychopharmacologists, therapists, support groups…All of which is as existent in the rural midwest as unicorns.

Disheartening but factoid.

Now to figure out a suitable reward for the undesirable task of mowing the lawn. I’m gonna have to think on that one.

 

 

4 Responses to “Itsy bitsy teeny weeny goals”

  1. This is a good method. I should try something like this.

  2. /sarcasm/ punch a fucktard, maybe? 😉 (Hmmm,,, sounded good,,,

  3. whip something up in the basement lab perhaps?

  4. Lawn never did get mowed, no fucktards were punched, no lab experiments were performed…but I did “socialize” with others at their house…Either my reward or punishment for doing all the laundry today, including bedding,and folding it. 😉 Lawn won’t die before tomorrow, sadly. If it did, I wouldn’t have to mow it!

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