Today I did one productive thing. I made a bracelet. I will most likely wear it for the wedding.
That is all I did the entire day. One whole hour on a tangible bit of progress. All the other hours of the day were spent thinking about how much I had to do and how little of it I had gotten done.
I thought about how it had been a week and I had only pack half a room.
I stressed over the realization that I was down to my last two pairs of panties, though I own around 40 in all.
I felt like a failure over the mess in my house, and my inability to simply stand up, pick things up and put them away.
I thought for hours about how I needed a dresser for the new bedroom. About how much more the bathroom reno might cost if there is an issue with the ducts.
I considered for the seventy thousandth time that maybe my mind did not work correctly and how I was going to fix it so I could do something. When my husband came home and started doing some dishes I felt sick to my stomach. Why should he clean when I had been the one home all day.
I watched a movie when he was home [I try to not watch TV while he is at work cause I feel lazy] called "Phoebe In Wonderland." It is about a little girl with mental issues. She can't control the things she does and at one point sobs in her mothers arms that she just wants to tell her why but she doesn't know herself.
I sobbed along with her. I knew that pain. I want to know why, when I find myself in a stressful situation I shut down. I want to know why, despite thinking about it until my brain hurts, I still am unable to put a load of clothes in the washer.
I want to know why when I am trying to tell my husband how my mind works and he picks up his guitar to play as he listens to me, every organ in my body seizes and I end up bursting into tears.
I want to know so I can explain it to him, to the people I love.
My issues have never caused problems in my life until now. I was always a great student, relentless worker, responsible older sister. I have always done everything I needed to do for those who depended on me.
For the first time my mental health is effecting someone besides myself. I can't spend all night crying anymore without being heard. I cant have a panic attack anymore without being caught. I can't leave tasks that are simply too big to focus on without them getting in someone else's way.
Years ago, when I was finishing my last semester, recovering from the shock and trauma of the shootings, dealing with horrible homesickness, and searching for a job while I went further in debt to pay my rent and had melted into a puddle of useless goo, I promised James I would be better. Once I was done with school. Once I was out of Blacksburg. Once I felt stable in my finances. Once my schedule was more structured.
But I am not better. We are better off then we ever have. I am close to my family and spend most of my time with them. I work from home and have full control of my time. Still, I am not better.
He brought this to my attention recently, the promise I had made.
I want to get better for him, for our life together. This time I can't do it myself.
I need help.
That is all I did the entire day. One whole hour on a tangible bit of progress. All the other hours of the day were spent thinking about how much I had to do and how little of it I had gotten done.
I thought about how it had been a week and I had only pack half a room.
I stressed over the realization that I was down to my last two pairs of panties, though I own around 40 in all.
I felt like a failure over the mess in my house, and my inability to simply stand up, pick things up and put them away.
I thought for hours about how I needed a dresser for the new bedroom. About how much more the bathroom reno might cost if there is an issue with the ducts.
I considered for the seventy thousandth time that maybe my mind did not work correctly and how I was going to fix it so I could do something. When my husband came home and started doing some dishes I felt sick to my stomach. Why should he clean when I had been the one home all day.
I watched a movie when he was home [I try to not watch TV while he is at work cause I feel lazy] called "Phoebe In Wonderland." It is about a little girl with mental issues. She can't control the things she does and at one point sobs in her mothers arms that she just wants to tell her why but she doesn't know herself.
I sobbed along with her. I knew that pain. I want to know why, when I find myself in a stressful situation I shut down. I want to know why, despite thinking about it until my brain hurts, I still am unable to put a load of clothes in the washer.
I want to know why when I am trying to tell my husband how my mind works and he picks up his guitar to play as he listens to me, every organ in my body seizes and I end up bursting into tears.
I want to know so I can explain it to him, to the people I love.
My issues have never caused problems in my life until now. I was always a great student, relentless worker, responsible older sister. I have always done everything I needed to do for those who depended on me.
For the first time my mental health is effecting someone besides myself. I can't spend all night crying anymore without being heard. I cant have a panic attack anymore without being caught. I can't leave tasks that are simply too big to focus on without them getting in someone else's way.
Years ago, when I was finishing my last semester, recovering from the shock and trauma of the shootings, dealing with horrible homesickness, and searching for a job while I went further in debt to pay my rent and had melted into a puddle of useless goo, I promised James I would be better. Once I was done with school. Once I was out of Blacksburg. Once I felt stable in my finances. Once my schedule was more structured.
But I am not better. We are better off then we ever have. I am close to my family and spend most of my time with them. I work from home and have full control of my time. Still, I am not better.
He brought this to my attention recently, the promise I had made.
I want to get better for him, for our life together. This time I can't do it myself.
I need help.
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