Depression. Home Edition.
It's hit me hard.
I'm second-guessing every decision I've ever made.
My heart is heavy.
My muscles all ache, so so badly.
I was awake with pain last night and dreaming of pain as I slept.
Dizziness and nausea this morning. I couldn't drag myself to work. To my dream job. That I am hating.
I went back to sleep until noon.
I won't get paid for today; I don't have sick days yet because I am still in my new hire probation period.
My house is so messy. My microwave broke. My dishwasher does not get the dishes clean.
There is a leak above the kitchen and a water stain on the ceiling. The flooring is broken.
The dining room ceiling fan is without a light cover and the cupboard drawers don't close. The patio door frame needs to be painted.
Our TV is doing some weird jolty picture thing.
Our couch broke so we brought up the basement one and threw away the other. The basement one will not stay together and has a huge nasty stain on it.
I fixed the door handle and lock last weekend but the door doesn't seal so drafts come in. There is also a hole just the right size for a mouse to come in.
The hallway carpet is snagged and if you step in just the right place, you can puncture your foot. And then squish your blood into the dirty dirty carpet.
There's random crap everywhere. Tripping hazards.
The wooden model house that I got from my grandpa before he passed, is crumbling.
The mirror doors for the front entry way closet are located in the hallway and in my bedroom, and the kids' rooms are chaos since we worked this weekend to move everything around to make sure they each have a warm safe space for the winter.
There are holes in the walls everywhere. The carpet is mis-matched. Some railings have broken and been removed.
One part of the carpet was melted by an iron before we moved in.
The master bedroom has curtains for closet doors, a move we made when the closet was hubby's office space.
I'm sure the bathroom is rotting. I went to stop the toilet from running this afternoon and it moved. So...I'm sure it won't be too much longer until that is another mess to clean up. I hate that I need to run an extension cord from the bedroom to the bathroom to use my hair dryer.
My bedroom is okay, though always messy due to the cramped nature of a king sized bed in the tiniest room. It is cold in the winter and too hot in the summer, and the wall that leads to the neighbouring suite is paper thin enough that I can hear their kitties playing, and giggles from two pre-teen girls when my daughter is over there to hang out. No hanky-panky happens in this room, nosiree. Not to mention that the bedroom window looks almost directly into the bathroom of yet another unit; which also means their window looks into our bedroom. Sometimes the sound of their late night showering wakes me up.
The basement is a nightmare; a space used for all the things that don't fit where they should in our place. The dream would be for two bedrooms and a bathroom down there, but that is not in our budget, so a cold, spider- (and mouse?) infested wasteland it is.
And, this is our home. A home that is filled with love and support. A home of a family knit tight because there is no other option. Everyone is in everyone's business here. I've defended this tiny space when others have looked down on it, saying that they could never live here. It wasn't for them. It was for us, and it was perfect.
But now it's not. And every single day is painful - physically and not. Walking into things and not having a spot to spread out. My heart breaks that I can't give my kids more bedrooms or myself another bathroom. It's really tough to watch one of my children work so hard to get himself to and from school even though the commute is a bitch, and not answer his pleads for a home more suited to the trip.
And watching it come so easily to others is wearing on me. My faith has weakened. The mental health of my family has deteriorated. My motivation to do anything at all is gone. What is the point in trying any longer to make it work? We've been trying for over 12 years.
Of course I am thankful for heat, the roof, lights, decent neighbours. People always say that - it could be worse. Just be grateful.
I am grateful. But I'm broken hearted too. Because no matter how hard I work, I am never closer to my goal. I can't fix this. And the realization that nothing I do makes any sort of difference lowers me deeper into the dark hole.
I'm second-guessing every decision I've ever made.
My heart is heavy.
My muscles all ache, so so badly.
I was awake with pain last night and dreaming of pain as I slept.
Dizziness and nausea this morning. I couldn't drag myself to work. To my dream job. That I am hating.
I went back to sleep until noon.
I won't get paid for today; I don't have sick days yet because I am still in my new hire probation period.
My house is so messy. My microwave broke. My dishwasher does not get the dishes clean.
There is a leak above the kitchen and a water stain on the ceiling. The flooring is broken.
The dining room ceiling fan is without a light cover and the cupboard drawers don't close. The patio door frame needs to be painted.
Our TV is doing some weird jolty picture thing.
Our couch broke so we brought up the basement one and threw away the other. The basement one will not stay together and has a huge nasty stain on it.
I fixed the door handle and lock last weekend but the door doesn't seal so drafts come in. There is also a hole just the right size for a mouse to come in.
The hallway carpet is snagged and if you step in just the right place, you can puncture your foot. And then squish your blood into the dirty dirty carpet.
There's random crap everywhere. Tripping hazards.
The wooden model house that I got from my grandpa before he passed, is crumbling.
The mirror doors for the front entry way closet are located in the hallway and in my bedroom, and the kids' rooms are chaos since we worked this weekend to move everything around to make sure they each have a warm safe space for the winter.
There are holes in the walls everywhere. The carpet is mis-matched. Some railings have broken and been removed.
One part of the carpet was melted by an iron before we moved in.
The master bedroom has curtains for closet doors, a move we made when the closet was hubby's office space.
I'm sure the bathroom is rotting. I went to stop the toilet from running this afternoon and it moved. So...I'm sure it won't be too much longer until that is another mess to clean up. I hate that I need to run an extension cord from the bedroom to the bathroom to use my hair dryer.
My bedroom is okay, though always messy due to the cramped nature of a king sized bed in the tiniest room. It is cold in the winter and too hot in the summer, and the wall that leads to the neighbouring suite is paper thin enough that I can hear their kitties playing, and giggles from two pre-teen girls when my daughter is over there to hang out. No hanky-panky happens in this room, nosiree. Not to mention that the bedroom window looks almost directly into the bathroom of yet another unit; which also means their window looks into our bedroom. Sometimes the sound of their late night showering wakes me up.
The basement is a nightmare; a space used for all the things that don't fit where they should in our place. The dream would be for two bedrooms and a bathroom down there, but that is not in our budget, so a cold, spider- (and mouse?) infested wasteland it is.
And, this is our home. A home that is filled with love and support. A home of a family knit tight because there is no other option. Everyone is in everyone's business here. I've defended this tiny space when others have looked down on it, saying that they could never live here. It wasn't for them. It was for us, and it was perfect.
But now it's not. And every single day is painful - physically and not. Walking into things and not having a spot to spread out. My heart breaks that I can't give my kids more bedrooms or myself another bathroom. It's really tough to watch one of my children work so hard to get himself to and from school even though the commute is a bitch, and not answer his pleads for a home more suited to the trip.
And watching it come so easily to others is wearing on me. My faith has weakened. The mental health of my family has deteriorated. My motivation to do anything at all is gone. What is the point in trying any longer to make it work? We've been trying for over 12 years.
Of course I am thankful for heat, the roof, lights, decent neighbours. People always say that - it could be worse. Just be grateful.
I am grateful. But I'm broken hearted too. Because no matter how hard I work, I am never closer to my goal. I can't fix this. And the realization that nothing I do makes any sort of difference lowers me deeper into the dark hole.
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