I am breaking my rule about not posting because I missed yesterday.
Good excuses for yesterday's sloth:
I know it seems like I really should have worked a post in there somewhere. There is some daylight in the schedule... but no.
I chose after coming home after 9:30 pm (and I think this was the right decision) not to post. Even to say that I wasn't going to post. I just didn't want to open my computer because I knew it would suck me in and I really needed to just unwind and then go to sleep. Which I did. Go me.
I am feeling better. Yes. I am less easily derailed. I get more sleep. I take my meds. I mostly answer my phone and check my emails. Kind of.
The phone thing has been slipping lately. I just noticed I have 12 voicemails. Crap. I really don't want to listen to them. Because you know, if I don't listen to them then they never happened. Right?
Still have not called my allergist. Also need to contact dentist (stupid filling fell out) and eye doctor (although my glasses seem fine). Have not called my friend who always seems to call on Tuesdays and Thursdays when she is more free and I am less free. Have I mentioned how little I like the phone? The people on the other end are fine, I just don't like the medium.
What I am coming back to is this: I like things to be fine. I like there not to be a problem. I realize this does not make me unique. But although parts of me are more fine than they used to be, that STILL does not mean that the chaos and the disaster that has built up over years of being under-treated for Depression has caused.
Don't get me wrong; I am not blaming the Depression on my untidy house. I am not a naturally tidy person and a bit of clutter is to be expected. It is just The Clutter That Ate New York living in my basement that is a testament to my prolonged stubornity and poor mental healthiness. (Stubborness and stupidity. It ought to be a word.)
And STILL and again I will remind myself that though I am feeling even better than I did when I first started feeling like me that does not mean that I get to tackle everything. Or that I should feel guilty and horrible when I have not fixed all things. It means I get to wear my watch and remember how to set the timer and stick to the 15 minute decluttering. And enlist help.
Not that I have any idea what that help would look like. I have not grown up around people who ask for help. Even when they really should. Well, as soon as I figure out what sort of help, or even who I might be asking, I will let you know.
Tomorrow (not tonight because it is too late) I will tell the tale of being poisoned in Japan and why it reminds me of being "perfectly fine."
Grateful Crap: someone FINALLY figuring out how to fill the prescription for albuterol. It took 5 (FIVE) trips to 2 separate pharmacies to get a prescription filled properly. Also: I love my job.
talked to neighbor and WILL make plans for coffee (call me-- or better yet talk to me since my voicemail may be full)
took meds in morning (raced off with all 3 bottles rattling in my jacket pocket because I hadn't yet refilled pill minder)
volunteered with Early Childhood class
Did Not Panic
Quaker, teacher, parent,