Amazing! Your post feels full of pride and achievement.
Sometimes I will take pictures of my surroundings and then it helps me pinpoint where to start. :)Thanks for hearing my yelp for help. I hate the way it feels to live in an apartment that reflects my mental health problems so much everywhere I look.
I want to:
Listing it out doesn't really make it less overwhelming. Every part of what I need to do seems huge and impossible. It isn't, but it feels that way. I get really messed up about cleaning and unpacking. I have a tendency to just hide from it ... literally. I stay in bed and don't look around very much. I wish I could just pull the blanket over my head and sleep instead of thinking about it at all.
- Put all the trash into trash bags and bring them to the bins downstairs.
- Get all the dishes clean.
- Put all of the stacks of fabric (supplies for my business) into containers -- clear off the couch, bed, and coffee table.
- Clear the way between the kitchen and living room.
- Unpack the boxes that I moved in with over a year ago.
- Vacuum the carpet.
I'm sure I need help. I have no idea what kind.
Very Understandable. I usually keep everything rather clean and organized. Since PTSD started I just sit alot and look around at what I am supposed to do and just can't get up to do it. I am trying to have only 2-3 tasks a week right now so I don't feel overwhelmed. Maybe that can help you to prioritize only a few tasks a week.I'm so frustrated with myself anymore. My apartment is like a sad trash heap, which is nothing new, but a huuuuuge source of shame for me. It feels totally paralyzing to even look around sometimes. I don't know where to start. I don't want anyone to know how I've been living in here. I'd rather die than receive a visitor.
And the shame I feel creates its own vortex of avoidance. I brought home groceries two days ago and had three items that needed refrigeration. I placed them on the counter and kept meaning to put them away, but I knew that I needed to clean old things out of the fridge and I didn't want to think about how gross I am ... and it spiraled into impossibility. Now I've got perished perishables that I literally just bought on my counter all because I was, what, too afraid to open my fridge to see the other spoiled food? Crazy. Crazy crazy crazy.
I hate me so much sometimes.