Keeping house

I have been in a weird place emotionally for a long time. I call it depression because that’s the closest word that feels accurate, but it is simultaneously more and less than that. I’ve lost two very close family members in the last two years so mostly I feel like I’m just grieving, which is part of how I feel less than depressed. It’s okay to feel sad when someone you love has died; it seems normal to feel a little lost in your day to day routine when that routine involved providing physical care for a dying person for several months.

I feel overwhelmed most days before I even open my eyes in the morning. I go through the motions of nearly every single responsibility and my heart isn’t in it. I walk into a room and turn around and walk right back out because I can’t face what is there. And that feels like a little more.

I go through this occasionally- I feel like I’ve battled these feelings off and on my whole life. I always come out of it, and it seems to last an appropriate amount of time for the circumstances. Until it doesn’t, and then every day feels like a burden I don’t want to manage.

This past Saturday I was looking forward to spending the day reading, knitting, and napping. These are the things I want to do whenever I have an expectation of downtime- these are the things that re-energize me when I’m in the right frame of mind.

Lately, I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to be energized. All the things I know to do that will help me don’t work any longer. I feel like my healthiest coping mechanisms have been unplugged and I am left feeling like I don’t know what to do. This is especially upsetting for me, because that leaves unhealthy coping mechanisms that I don't really want to give in to. And by that I mean that I always want to give in them, because my badness level is very high. So I fight against the temptation to burn my life down while desperately fighting to find ways to unravel the mess in my head.

Now to Saturday: I slept in a glorious amount and then my husband asked if we can open our home for a church meeting Sunday evening. Friends, my house is a mess. I won’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve done a thorough clean of anything. I tidy up when we go out of town so my house-sitter doesn’t catch cooties, and we clean our guest bathroom whenever we have people over (which is every week so at least that gets done regularly). One of the things that is true about me when I am more or less depressed is that I don’t do house cleaning. I have never been good at it. I should be, and I’m often embarrassed that I am not, but it’s just something I’ve never much cared about doing even when I feel like my best self.

Imagine how I felt Saturday when I realized I would have to spend the day cleaning instead of reading. Seems like the last thing I’d want to do, but the idea of it stimulated me out of my misery. We spent the day cleaning, had a successful meeting in a shiny home Sunday night, and when I came downstairs to start my Monday morning I felt content in my surroundings. More content than I have in a long time.

And I’m realizing, not for the first time (another embarrassing story) that my psyche feels best when I’m in a clean environment. I feel less overwhelmed, less burdened by every little thing. And a little more capable of tackling the day. Why is it that the very thing I need to feel better emotionally feels impossible to accomplish when I don’t feel better emotionally?

That reading I didn't get to do Saturday? I made up for it this morning before work, sitting in my spotless living room on my comfortable couch, surrounded by all the things that bring me joy.