Tired

Well, I'm just tired. Of everything. According to some people, I can't do anything right. I'm a disgusting slob who doesn't mind living in a pigpen and who is too lazy to do any work around the house. And I'm a recluse who is happy with that. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! On all counts!!! Does anyone really think I enjoy living in rooms stuffed full of ...stuff? Obviously someone does. Or that I want it to stay that way? Or that I want to stay in the house, 24/7, 365 a year? Yeah, I've kept to myself a lot since Clint's death, and I was fighting depression even before that. So yes, I did isolate myself. But even then I'd get out of the house at least to go to church, to see the dr's and to the store occasionally. I can still do that - oh wait. No I can't. After my fun trip to Albuquerque, where NOBODY judged me or put me down or looked down their nose at me, I came home to a filthy car, flat tire and dead battery. I've been home just about a month now and the car hasn't been touched - still filthy, flat & dead. So I'm stuck at home unless I beg for a ride.

And the mess? I've finally come to the place where I feel like I can start to go through things. But I can't do that without some supplies. I'm not asking for big bucks to be spent on plastic tubs at this point. I'd be thrilled with cardboard boxes. But. I can't go get them myself, although I've asked. And asked. And asked. For someone to keep an eye out for boxes - at work, in dumpsters, at the liquor store or the convenience stores, even on the curb of a neighborhood home where someone's just moved in & unloaded some things. But no go. I was told that "no one has boxes anymore, they recycle them". Baloney. But again, I can't go do it myself - no ride.

So how do I sort & go through stuff if I don't have somewhere to pack things up or have boxes to hold the things I want to get rid of (garage sale or shelter or Salvation Army)? Yes, a larger part of the stuff is mine. After Daddy died and Mom moved into smaller quarters, I brought a lot of stuff back home here from Maryland. Add to that the things I'd already gotten from both sets of grandparents' homes. Then throw into the mix the fact that my son has returned home to live, twice now, each time taking over a spare bedroom that I'd made into a guest room with a closet full of stuff. But now the stuff is all in my computer room. So I barely have room to walk in anymore. Anyway, I need boxes. Lots of them. And I can't see spending money on boxes - not that I have any money to spend on boxes - I'm lucky to get money for groceries. And I have to beg every payday for that. Usually I get it. Sometimes I don't. Then I'm stuck with whatever I can forage from the fridge, freezer or pantry. So if there's barely any food, how come I'm not losing weight? Almost funny, right? I suppose I shouldn't sound so negative. Occasionally some groceries are brought in, and I get to eat whatever someone else chooses, rarely being asked what I would like.

I'm sorry. I used to not be so negative. I was a happy person, laughing, smiling, fun to be around, making other people laugh. Now I seem to have turned into the one person I didn't want to be like. It happened slowly. So slowly I didn't even recognize it. I don't want to be that person. But now that I've seen that it's there, how do I stop it? How do I get rid of it? My first thought is to just not let it happen. Embrace life. Live life to the fullest. Go for the gusto. Then I remember who I am. And where I am. And who I live with. And I remember that it's not that easy. Now when you're constantly being ragged on. Put down. Yelled at. Made fun of. And I think, "Why have I stayed here for so long?"

I guess I was thinking it was what God wanted. He abhors divorce. He loves the people, but hates the divorce. I tried to follow that. Or maybe I used it as an excuse. Because I'm lazy & don't want to go through the mess of a divorce. Or maybe I'm afraid to. Or maybe I'm afraid to be by myself afterwards. Nah. Don't think so on that one.

There are so many things I want to do, but I seem to have my hands tied behind my back in each instance. I feel so helpless sometimes, like I don't have control over anything in my life. I can't work, so I don't have any money. I have to depend on someone else for all my needs. I can't clean up, so I get called names. I can't leave the house without a big hassle. And even if I could do either one, it's not like I could just jump in both feet first and be done with it, 1 2 3. I still can't stay on task like I used to. But I can at least get a little done at a time as far as the cleaning up goes. Same with getting out. I was starting to get out and at least attend church functions before I left. And yes, even that was spotty. But it's more than I'd been doing. And a lot more than what I'm doing now.