Why Bother, It’s Just One More Chore Trudging Uphill In Molasses

Unfortunately, even with my medication allegedly ‘working’… my mental space truly is viewing everything as a chore. Even bathing. I went 5 days without a bath and tonight, my greasy scalp just forced me to climb Mount Molasses and sure, I feel better now but…It’s a chore like any other, doing dishes, laundry, vacuuming, grocery shopping. It’s exhaustion and I feel bruised and battered afterward, at least mentally and physically. I guess the small sense of accomplishment has to be worth something, but I never thought bathing would become a momentous task and mountain to be scaled. I swear, it wasn’t this bad at the trailer. At least not every week. But not having a shower makes it an even bigger pain in the ass and hearing shit like, “What grown woman still takes baths?” doesn’t help. Because I happen to agree, I loathe baths. And I am allergic to bubblebath and assorted other bath beauty items that make you smell nice so…

One more bloody chore.

Depression is a cruel, vindictive mistress.

You know others do these mundane chores every day, most after working long shifts, and taking care of their kids, and they have it way harder than you do, so what the hell is wrong with you, are you just that lazy? And you want so desperately to change the way you’re feeling and thinking, you want to want to do these normal things, boring and cumbersome as they can be.

But sheer desire alone isn’t enough to overcome depression. If it were, I’d never have suffered more than one bout because my stubborn rebellious nature would have stomped both big feet down and forbidden it with two middle fingers extended.

Depression gives zero fucks. It doesn’t care that people are sick of hearing you talk about it and just want you to get over it. Nor does it give a damn that it’s sucking out your soul, destroying your relationships, altering your identity, and basically consuming your life. Tick tock goes time, time doesn’t stop just because depression has you in its steel jaws, shaking you into the dark abyss.

Even when you have a couple of days that ‘aren’t too bad’, the chores are still damn hard to manage so you procrastinate and that fills you with self loathing and it is a vicious cycle that feeds the depression monster and it keeps gobbling until you feel so empty, there’s nothing much left of you. You bully yourself, you try to rally, you muster up every ounce of strength and ‘fuck you’ fire left inside you, wanting so desperately to ‘snap out of it’ and get stuff done…

And depression giggles, then laughs maniacally…

And yet another day of your life has vanished, a day you can never get back whether it was your kid’s birthday, or first day of school, or your loved ones’ funeral. None of these things matter to depression, it’s hungry and it’s gonna dine on whatever you have left. So every day becomes a tick tock game, looking forward to the nothingness of sleep, when you can shut off your mind and depression has to be quiet for awhile.

Only to wake up every 90 minutes pretty much every night of the month so you’re never rested and never really feel tough or strong or motivated.

Then it’s time to wake up and do it all over again.

If a medication is truly working…you do battle with fire in your belly and your eyes.

If a medication is lagging and conking out…

Here I am, no doctor in sight after a month for them reassign me and call.

Hard to see an up side there. Even harder to give a damn about things like bathing and housework when even your own psychiatric care center seems to give zero fucks about how much of your life is passing before your eyes due to depression.

I’m still in the fight and daily it feels like I get pinned to the mat and it is exhausting and maddening…But what else am I gonna do? Roll up in a ball and hope they cart me off to a locked ward and maybe then I will get some help?

That’s a joke and a half. What psych wards are supposed to do and what they actually do are two different things. You should read this post if you want to know what it’s really like. She nailed it with railroad spikes.

So I fight with all I’ve got and on the occasional good day, I think, “Maybe I’ve got this.”

Let’s hope for less occasional good days and more plain old good days. 🙂

***Final note

Heartfelt thanks to all who donated to our campaign. Spook and I’d like to send out a very special thanks to Leslie, who has been a very good wordpress friend over several years, her surprise donation is helping us immensely. I am keeping the campaign active because, hey, we still gotta make that goal, plus soon the spawn is going to need school clothes and supplies and unfortunately, the power company and landlord aren’t going to be put on hold to accommodate this. Any help-even a share- restores my faith in the goodness of humanity

I know people prefer cats over moms and kids by simply by looking at how much and how quickly my sister raised to help her cat’s vet bills. But it’s my own fault, to an extent, she had multiple people on multiple social media sites reaching out for her. I just can’t do social media, at least not outside the safe respectful confines of wordpress. People can be monsters. And not the cute Mike kind from Monsters, Inc. Fortunately, there are still some good people out there.

I think. I hope.

I have to have hope or otherwise…the battle against depression is pointless.

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2 Responses to “Why Bother, It’s Just One More Chore Trudging Uphill In Molasses”

  1. I feel this blog post so severely; thank you for sharing ❤ love following and keeping up with you!

    • Thankies! Your comment means a lot to me, I am always so happy to hear from people who understand where I am coming from. It’s not all rant and vapidity, most of it is just…the way it is, whether I or anyone else likes it or not.
      Appreciate you speaking up, means the world to me.

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