Vent

Vent

We have someone coming to look at the house tomorrow and preparing for it is a stark reminder that I'm not able bodied and haven't been for years.

It wouldn't be as stressful had I been able to work on stuff the whole weekend. But my new meds basically made me comatose the entire weekend from how sick they made me so nothing got done. At all.

Stuff that ableds can easily maintain, are things that I'm festering in. Our dishwasher broke, and with my husband working himself to death and my pots and audhd and tbd fibro, I just can't. I can't keep up.

We just threw away so many dishes because they weren't salvageable. I just filled the bathtub with dishes that were, to soak and scrub later this morning. My entire body is screaming in pain from scrubbing one stack of plates. One. Stack. Of plates. That's like, maybe a dozen?

My hands are cramping up and soon I won't be able to use them for a bit until they unlock. My entire back/shoulders are locking up as I speak.

I hate this. I fucking hate this. We even use disposable a lot but there are times disposable is too flimsy for the meal we have. Or it requires bowls that are sturdy.

I am getting laundry put away, but immediately refilling the baskets with the dirty. The washing machines are going nonstop. But sitting and folding hurts my entire body so much. Hands and back/shoulders mostly.

If we could afford a weekly cleaner/some laundry help we would. In a heartbeat. But we can't. We aren't even paycheck to paycheck. We're always having to shift stuff around and with the year we've had? Big ticket items of the house breaking and multiple illnesses on top of chronic illness.... we just can't.....

I hate it so much.... we need help. But there is no help right now.

if you use music to cope with anxiety, depression or to help with your ADHD (like me) reblog, I'm trying to prove a point to my teacher

I, a grown adult, still panic when I hear trucks drive by/up the driveway because it is instant panic/fear for a moment then taking the rest of the day to come down from it 🫠

Ex-Stepdad not dad but still

10 year Terror

If I don't get ancestral flashbacks dealing with the ice age of old while I'm drifting off to sleep then my room's not cold enough

Growing up, my granny would always babysit me. She was a seamstress by trade making jeans, but every spare moment she got from the factory was spent quilting or cross stitching so when I was there she would hand me a needle and thread and some scrap squares and tell me to “help” her.

I got older and started creating more on my own, and upon reflecting figured she was just doing that to keep me quiet and focused on something so she could relax. When she passed away in July, I learned that I was the only person in the family who kept on sewing after she taught them, so naturally all of her works in progress and the majority of her fabric stash came to me.

I started going through them today and after opening up the first quilt in progress box, I found it. A quilt top of all the squares we had made together while I was little. It’s a scrappy piece, and just big enough for a baby blanket or maybe a small lap quilt but I’m going to make it the first piece I finish by myself.