one more inane post to the internet, and then i will do my dishes, but like

I had envisioned, back in the Before Time when I went to a job and it devoured my time, energy, mental health, and anything else it could sink a hook into, that I could get my apartment all nice and perfect with just a week off.  Maybe two.  And I guess, if that was the only thing I did, and it was a marathon slog, I probably could have.  

Yet, even recognizing that, I still feel guilty and upset with myself that there are still things that are messy, that are out of place, that haven’t been dealt with or cleaned.  The last week or so the heat has kept me from doing anything but writhing in place or sitting in front of my open refrigerator.  But I haven’t worked since March, and I thought I’d have more under control now.  

I often can’t plan how my brain and body will react to things on normal days, so of course I couldn’t have predicted how they’d act during a global crisis.  I did learn that a lot of those days I called off of work because I had been too scared, exhausted, and emotionally attacked by nightmares were things I should not have felt guilty doing, because they’re still happening now and I recover from them so much better taking care of myself the day following than I ever did just forcing myself to go to work.  

I do things in strange patterns compared to what people expect.  I get focused and hung up on tiny details, and I need to sort those out or my brain will obsess over them no matter what else I am doing.  So my approach to cleaning things would probably be really frustrating for others to watch, and I think in a way it is frustrating for me because it’s not going the sort of magically clean and effortless way it always seemed to come to my mom.   I know her magical ability to just stand up and do things immediately after a day at work is largely in part to her not having a brain riddled with the alphabet soup of acronyms mine has.

I just wish that, like everything else that is particular to me and in many ways defines me as me, that it didn’t make me feel like a damn child.