Blorft Chronicles: Deflated

 

    Apologies, readers and those hoping to feed on my usual cantankerous growling. I have not had any tetchiness since my last Chronicles entry. Um, sans the government telling me that I will only receive $600 of the $1400 stimulus.

I have depression in spades, however, and it saps my resolve and eats away lingering creativity. It's as though I am trapped between two immovable walls and a slowly dropping ceiling. You know, those cheesy ones with spikes pointing downward.

One wall bitches because it wants another bookshelf and its original desk, thus the foyer is filled with the massive new desk boxes. "I want to write!"

The other wall rightfully snarls at the thought of us hiring movers to satisfy the first wall's wants. "If she wants it so bad, she can pay the movers!" That wall feels that it is almost impossible, too much for us to do given our health, and the other wall is ungrateful as it is.

And that ceiling? I normally harness my manic super power. It gives me inhuman strength and determination. My kryptonite is crippling pain. It sets off a cycle between depression and mania. I can not hold back the ceiling.

People new to my blog: I have BD-I. Mental illness is NOT a stigma nor does it make you less of a person. Take your meds, find ways to harness that middle ground between the two extremes, and you'll do fine.

I'm grooving on that picture. I go through "clean all the things" routinely. I have never had the luxury of crawling into bed for weeks.

Regardless of all the above, the situation is pushing me towards apathy. I can not hit the soulless bottom of the "depression well"; my meds prevent that. 

Instead, part of me concluded that I will never get the foyer and upstairs den sorted, nor finish painting the downstairs, nor repair all the plumbing before it gets worse, and I should give up on trying. Put on that blorft face and act as if nothing is wrong.

What I really want to do is a Mushu:

Oooh! All right, that's it! Dishonor! Dishonor on your whole family! Make a note of this: dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow, dis...

That will not help.

So my goals, which are mired in apathy, are impossible to achieve. Rather than everyone pulling together an making an effort for my wellness, people dug in their heels. I can't do it on my own. My Better Half is always willing to help by compromising on stuff but we're both facing a losing battle.

I sat on the back porch this morning, enjoying the sun while my coffee perked, and I realized that I have zero fucks to give about the foyer and den. It is what it is. There are plenty of people in situations far worse than mine. I am at the cusp of "If I stop caring, I'll stop complaining, and stop visualizing what could be." Doing this spares me pain and disappointment. Accept What Is.

Blorft is the way to go. /pointless pity party