Workin' on the Mess

I've been doing a bit of cleaning.
Figuratively and literally.

It's not very clean around my house or in my brain for a variety of reasons, and what's finally happened is those reasons have all come together and reached critical mass.

Although I can list several, I can't even tell you which reason is the biggest.
I think they all just sort of combine and sit in one big lump in my heart and my house.

I have been laid up with one physical injury after another for more than two years.

The things that have happened to me aren't huge.

They've been very uncomfortable and painful, they've taken a long time to heal, and constantly trying to fit physical therapy and medical appointments and heal and work and be a mom and a wife and all the things I want to be has been less than easy, but I have no illusions or woe is me thing... the injuries and pain are just an inconvenience.

But they're a fact, too. 

It's also a fact that when your body is in pain, your brain produces different chemicals.

They aren't necessarily fun.

I was talking to a medical person a couple weeks ago who ended up in a serious manic episode after a traumatic injury. She said that her doctor explained that what likely sent her over the edge into the episode was the huge chemical dump her brain took after the injury on top of other issues she had going on.

I can certainly see that.

And surgeries to repair things like torn rotator cuffs and ACLs and fun things like that are nothing if not traumatic injuries.

It hasn't been all that enjoyable, really.

And not only has it affected my general outlook on life for two years, it's kept me from doing anything but the bare minimum around the house.
I don't feel up to doing a lot.
I have to sit frequently.
I'm tired and I hurt.

My family has been understanding. And they've helped quite a lot. But you know how you clean your kitchen? And then someone else does it and it's not done your way? It's still clean. You still have utensils in the drawer and plates in the cupboard and the meals are mostly on time, but they don't do it the same way you do. It isn't your kind of clean.

There are things that my family does not do unless I ask. And it's at the point where I hesitate to ask, because I have asked so very much from them for the last two years.

So I come home from a shift as a glorified babysitter, and all I feel like doing is sitting down and getting off my knee. You know, the right knee. The one there's 'nothing wrong with'.

I don't want to fold laundry. Put it away. Scrub the bathtub. Clean the floors. Change the bed. All I really want to do is sit here in front of the computer, chat with my imaginary friends, and wait until it's FINALLY time for me to sleep.

I don't want to talk to my family, either. Okay, that's not true. I want to talk to them, but only if they come into the kitchen and hang out with me. I don't want to go sit in the living room, our falling apart couch is so low that when I actually MUST sit on it, I have to stack cushions to sit on because I can't get back up without a good deal of pain in my very healthy right knee. The one there's 'nothing wrong with'.

So really, most of what I do around here involves making bigger messes. I pile the mail up on top of the other stuff that's already on the table.

I pile dirty laundry on top of furniture in the bedroom. Or I toss it on the floor. And then eventually I get it to the hamper. Sometimes. I am not alone in this pursuit. Eric has a drift of laundry in front of the door to the outside that's in our room. I know how odd that sounds, but let me 'splain. We bought a two bedroom house. But we needed three. And the people who owned this house back in the 70's made a big assed living room out of the attached garage. The other end of the house, where we sleep, used to be a living room. Eric built a wall. Hung a door. It's actually a really nice, large bedroom. It would be larger if SOMEONE got rid of some of the crap she's hoarding. Although she's not the only one.

My dresser drawers are full of things I don't wear. And won't wear. The big shirt toss of 2011 went so well and made me feel so good that I'm ready to toss more. There's only one shirt I've slightly regretted tossing... but I wore it a total of three times last year. I think I can live with that.

So my goal for this week is to do four things before I sit down after work. Whether it's tossing four items from my room or folding four towels or picking up four pieces of garbage off the kitchen table or ???? I will do four things.

Of course that doesn't really make a dent in the four million things that need to be done. But it's a start. Right?