Disheveled

My house is a disarrayed, fragmented mess- a reflection of my state of mind, to some extent. My husband has become a Nazi dictator- putting the kabosh on any house work I try to get done. Doctor's orders, he says. I attempt to sneak around during the day and surface clean, but that only frustrates me more. Usually, at some point, I'll get so sick of the mess that I'll spend all day cleaning. Inevitably, it always leads to a flare up, and me being chastized for 'doing too much.'

I clean our bedroom every week, despite Aaron's protests. I can't push the vacuum, but I dust and make sure all of my clothes are put away, my closet is organized and the room looks like the peaceful place I want it to. But it never fails, three or four days later, I've got clothes piled up on laundry baskets and strewn out on the floor beside the bed. Water glasses add up on my nightstand, and shoes find their way to all corners of the room. I don't know why I have such trouble with organization, but I do. It's ridiculous. It doesn't help that I'm hurt, but I've always been messy. My mom used to call me lazy, and I had a list of household chores I did every week, but I was constantly scolded for doing a 'half-assed' job, and could never keep my own room clean. When I moved away to college and lived on campus, I was notorious for being a slob. It was rather embarrassing, but I just couldn't keep organized and put things back where they belonged.

A few years ago, I was 'diagnosed' with ADD. I was put on Strattera, which didn't seem to help, and then, Adderall. I felt really uncomfortable with idea of taking legal speed, but decided to give it a try. I've never been so focused in my life. I was volunteering, working nights, and cleaning houses. My own apartment was actually spotless, and for the first time in years,I had the ability to sit down and watch a movie without getting up fifty times or constantly babbling through it. I was able to write without re-typing the same sentence over and over. I had structure. But, ultimately, I felt really guilty about being on the drug, had a few side effects, and so I stopped taking it. Now, it would be dangerous to take it with the other medications I'm on. Somehow I need to get some sort of system working for me.

I've had more than one possible diagnosis thrown at me as far as mental illnesses go. It's such a frustrating road to travel, because there are so many variables. Neurotransmitters and serotonin levels. How big of a role does my upbringing, and family relationships play? What about being tormented as a teenager in junior high? I still see that awkward adolescent in the mirror. I've held on to resentments, regrets, and past mistakes, unable to forgive myself. How much are these contributing to my self hatred and inability to achieve? What about the physical pain? It's proven that stress increases pain, and vice versa... I'm on a lot of medication, all of which affect how my brain chemistry works.

All I can do is take it one day at a time. I can sit here and worry myself sick, and fret about the endless to do list, or I can remember that I'm only human, and I'm taking on a lot right now. Changes are taking place in every aspect of my life... I'm realizing how often I defend myself or apologize when it's not necessary. I'm gaining more self awareness. With the exception of Wednesday, I've had a pretty good week. I've been busy with other things that have helped keep my worries at bay. I've spent time with a friend who makes me laugh at myself and not care about how silly I look. I've been reaching out to my family. I'm writing more and more. I've even started jotting down affirmations for myself to read when I get worked up. I might be disorganized and distressed, but I'm challenging everything I've ever learned about myself and my place in this world.