I took my pills this morning.
I feel so pathetic that I have to take pills to feel okay.
I hate that they keeps me from feeling some things.
On Christmas I watched Mr. Krueger’s Christmas.
I always cry at the part where he’s talking to baby Jesus.
I’m crying now just thinking about it.
Not last Christmas, though.
I wanted to.
I tried to.
But I just couldn’t.
It kept me from enjoying it as much as I usually do.
I hate this.
It makes me feel like a robot.
When I forget my pill I feel normal until the next day.
Then I make up for all the sadness I couldn’t feel before.
Cleaning is not my strong suit. Never has been.
My mom would tell me to clean my room. Over and over.
Eventually she’d get fed up and clean it for me.
I’m not much different as an adult.
The biggest difference is that I’m not as messy.
When I live alone my place isn’t a terrible mess.
It’s not spotless. But you can walk through it without difficulty.
I had a system. I had just enough dishes to get me through the week. I’d let them soak. On Saturday morning I’d run the dishwasher.
I did my laundry once a week.
I took the garbage out when necessary. Meaning I couldn’t balance any more on top.
Since getting married I haven’t done as well.
That’s not to say I never clean.
I’m just not good about it.