So I somewhat lost my shit today.
Whether it started because of the 3:51 a.m. phone call from someone else I am close to who battles mental illness or a build up of emotional exhaustion somewhat related to said person on TOP of my own grab-bag of insanity or what...
Got some stuff done myself, Hubs got some done (though lots more to do in kitchen for him and living rm & dining room for me).
Kids not very helpful, creating more work by "helping" or by needing step-by-step instructions on how to help.
I say this a lot but I hate living like this, I hate the apathy and the lack of energy and the disaster we live in until I blow up like a volcanic whirlwind and start doing stuff while the rest of the family must join in or be on the receiving end of my freak out(s).
This is not the fun high of furniture rearranging.
This is the anger at my belief that the house in such a horrid state reflects the fact that no one loves or cares about me - not even myself.
Logically, I *know* Hubs and the kids love me but the inner me, the tiny, child me - feels unloveable and takes all these unspoken acts and the disarray as proof of my utter unloveableness.
It does not make sense.
But it's hard to battle belief. Especially long-held ones...
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