Lately, I've felt better. I believe I've mentioned that one or thrice or effty seven times. But I realized something, starburst moment I'm sure. Feeling better is just an improvement on feeling crap. I can cook for myself at least twice a day. I can wipe down counters most days. I can take out the trash and the recycling and maybe vacuum. And then my legs and arms start shaking, my back spasms, I want to cry and even sitting down makes me feel exhausted. I'm not BETTER. I just feel less bogs of crap.
Well acid wash in a crotch, that's just sneaky. Sneaky and detrimental and 7 shades of painfilled wrong. It's wrong to realize how pathetic it is, given a perspective, to feel so good and relieved and so proud of myself for accomplishing bare basics. Yes, I cuoldn't before and now I can and isn't it wonderful. But life at bare basics is still crap. It's crap and guilt and frustrations - which may explain why perhaps I may forget this revalation tomorrow, in order not to feel so depressed I pound my head into explosion.
Pshh, for all I know I've realized this before, effty seven times. But I've got ants in my kitchen ,despite the a/c being horrid cold. And I can't seem to keep up enough in wiping down my counters and minding my floor even though it's fricking amazing -for me- and the dishwasher runs twice a week now and the counters aren't grey or brown and more a slight offwhite and the grout's still damn clean.