So, are you familiar with my biochemical makeup? I’m Cyclothymic (which is like, Bipolar Disorder’s lazy little brother who just smokes pot and plays Wii all day), and have mild forms of ADD and OCD. Add in the 20 years of being on some form of a diet, and you know, nothing huge, right? I mean, yes, that probably means that at the worst of times, I’ve been certifiable; the best of times, no one thinks anything’s wrong with me.
I just don’t sleep a lot, I’m kinda skinny, like to clean and um…lose track of my sentences while I’m trying to get them out. That’s why I talk so fast sometimes that my throat gets dry and I start hacking. That’s why I interrupt so much, cuz I know I will lose the thing that’s in my head, if I don’t.
And to be truthful, most of these ‘disorders’ feed into each other. I get mildly manic and OCD comes out and I will organize the shit out of something like a filing cabinet. Then clean it. Then, you know, move it. So my house is generally clean, even though I feel like it’s all tornadoed out seeming. The ADD, well, it just means that I will clean 20 different things – maybe not finish one damn pile of shit that I’ve started to go through, but I’ve started and that’s half the battle right?
I can remember clearly being 18 or so and having fought with the rockstar ex. He went to bed mad, and I couldn’t sleep – despite the anger, I was just also in my manic phase of the year. Two hours later, he got up to pee and found me cleaning the tiles in our shower with a toothbrush and Comet.
I can think back to how many times JDawg and I would be at each other’s throats and I would start writing a novel outline or wash dishes or decide that this was the time to bake a batch of muffins. Okay, that last one happened once when I was experiencing ‘fugues’ and I have no recollection of doing it – but they were good muffins.
The point is that my moods and depressive history, and hell, even my relationship history largely feed the drive that I may have or may be lacking. So I spent most of yesterday down, feeling overwhelmed and like things weren’t working out at all. And I did nothing. N-O-T-H-I-N-G, at all. Like, was thankful that Isobel won’t eat anything other than small snacks, cuz I wasn’t cooking or washing dishes.
Then this morning happened. I woke up in a still depressed mood. Isobel woke up half an hour earlier than usual, yelling ‘Mama!’ over and over and over. I had to pee before my bladder exploded. The floor was awash with cast off rice cake bits. I didn’t have time to get that first smoke of the day in. And I needed coffee. So a DVD went on (when doesn’t a DVD go on?) and I snapped into gear. Cuz shit was looking dire at that moment.
I spent precious little time on Plurk. I didn’t clean out my feed reader. I refreshed the Craigslist page for rentals and perused while I sipped. Then I had my smoke.
The next few hours are a blur, but I can say that I accomplished a load of laundry and two of dishes, finished decluttering (maybe, probably), got some packing done til I ran out of boxes in my apartment, and I even managed to squeeze in some wall and cupboard washing. All while Isobel watched educational programing a Rugrats movie and played with toys (she never does that, without another kid!) and ate crayons coloured.
I’ve still got a lot of shit to do. I suppose I should find a place to live – though I did have an appointment this afternoon. We’ll see how that goes since it was a little small, run down and there’s that whole credit check thing. But it was literally up a street from me – half a block – and it’s cheaper than I pay now, which I thought was unheard of in this neighbourhood. I should hear back on Friday.
I’ve still got packing to do, but have virtually decluttered our asses into 10 boxes-ville. And a lot of cleaning, even though my landlord said not to worry about it – I would prefer to leave everything as pristine as possible, you know? There’s still one load of laundry remaining and I’ve gotta clean out my filing cabinet of unneeded years’ stuff. Then there’s bookkeeping. And maybe I should consider cooking sometime soon – something other than pasta or eggs.
But really? Though I don’t feel any better or happier, I do feel lighter, you know?
