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.
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.