Between Saturday morning and today (Monday evening), I’ve done two loads of laundry and folded three loads of laundry. I left the house once, and only because I needed some groceries.
My to-do list dictated that my weekend be far more productive than this. In fact, my to-do list was supposed to be started on last weekend, but as per usual, I procrastinated.
I’m thinking a lot about spoon theory.
I knew I was overdoing it last week. I knew I was using too many spoons. Work was busy, I had dates and social activities scheduled almost every night, and I had obligations to clean my home and make it look presentable. Plus, I wanted to keep up with my workout regimen. Plus I knew I was falling into a depressive cycle.
I can’t say exactly when, but I ran out of spoons and my spoon debt became more than I could overcome.
By Wednesday and Thursday, I was running on fumes, but I still pushed through to end of day Friday. I gave it my all at work on Friday, until I was so visibly unable to function that my boss sent me home.
Getting my housework done this weekend was out of the question.
I showered on both days. I fed myself twice each day; once with fried eggs and once with food I had delivered.
That was the extent of the productivity I was capable of.
That’s what a bad day looks like. I’m barely able to shower and make sure I’m fed. I’m having some bad days right now.
I worked from home today and now am done for the day and would like to get more done. I still have a load of laundry left to fold. The dishwasher needs to be emptied. I need to vacuum.
My nemesis is boxes from Amazon Prime delivery. It’s so easy to get things delivered so I don’t have to run all around town or deal with people. The downside is I have to deal with the boxes, and I tend not to. Empty boxes and unopened mail clutter my home.
When I do get around to trying to do something about it, I invariably wind up hurting myself. It doesn’t take much to strain my neck and upper back. Holding empty boxes and breaking them down will do it.
Once I get this cleaning done, I’ll likely be in pain for a week or more. I know this.
I don’t have the energy to do it in the first place, and once I do it, I’ll be physically miserable.
“Isn’t there something you can do about this? Surely you don’t need to live that way.”
Just don’t. I’m begging you. If you have some desire to say something like this, I ask you, please, just shut the fuck up. I know you mean well, but seriously, I can’t deal with it right now.