It’s just not me

I like to be organised and tidy, but if you saw my home you would accuse me of not being honest about that!

The thing is, it’s true – however I am in a constant battle for space and living with people who do not pull their weight around the house.

A large part of my depression is due to the blockages in the house.  What do I mean by blockages?  Large piles of stuff in certain areas, literally blocking my access to books, files, art supplies etc at best it can take me around fifteen minutes to access something I want – I can’t just decide to fetch something and take it away and be immediately productive.  Sometimes the blockages are quite dangerous and have heavy stuff there, so I can’t access thing without inconveniencing Paul in helping me get to them. 

As time is going on, more of these blockages are occurring around the house in more areas that used to be mine and they are blocked by things that are not mine!

A simple idea of getting on the exercise bike needs fifteen minutes of preparation beforehand, because people have used it as a coat, hat and glove stand and used the seat as a place to pile books.

I fight hard to tidy things away, but other blockages means I can’t move some things from one place to another easily without causing another major blockage.  Paul is definitely reverting at a faster pace than usual to his pack rat past, because it is him who is causing these blockages and piles to occur!

Since we have decided to separate he isn’t even trying to stop himself anymore just to keep peace.

He doesn’t care how this affects my productivity in all areas of my life, he doesn’t care how this is actually affecting my independence around the house by accessing things – he just cares about his own convenience of stacking things!

It drives me around the bend, because I am quite OCD and particular about things.

But being the woman of the house, who gets tarred for how it all looks smells, etc?  Not the man I can tell you, not the kids… it’s always the woman’s fault!  That’s just society’s psychology.

If there is a woman in the house, she is the one to blame for how good or bad the house looks inside, she is the cleaner, she is the organiser, she is the one who gets the bad rep for the shittiness if she lives with slobs and happens to be sick!

It’s how I was raised, I was brainwashed by my mother than if I don’t get a handle on Paul quickly, visitors will think I am the dirty cow – I am the lazy woman who allows this to happen and I have to tell you it has always made me paranoid that people will think about me like that!

Because it really is not me!

You know I rebelled a couple of times living here – I actually decided to play them at their own game – throw wrappers on the floor without bothering to pick them up because I got pissed off.  Those wrappers stayed there for days until I got mad enough to literally knock myself out and clean the whole room over an eight hour period, only for the room to look similar a day or two later.

It is normal for people to leave used tissues anywhere they like and throw their wrappers on the floor if it is by the bin, it’s excusable to them – sorry, and for me it isn’t!

Was given the disgusting excuse of how ordinary poor folk live like this – I am sorry but they don’t!

I’ve lived with poorer people than this in the past and they certainly aren’t dirty or messy!

They have their pride, he doesn’t!

The kitchen is fully Paul’s abode, the kitchen is the most disgusting place in the house except for the tops of the units and that is only because I insist in a food preparation area Paul you’ve got to keep it clean!  In the past he didn’t care, I trained that out of him at least!

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I can’t access my books and art supplies in Paul’s bedroom anymore because he has caused huge blockages – I can’t access half my crystals – I can’t access any art supplies except for a box of sharpies and inks – I can’t access my new laptop – I can’t access the memory files – I can’t get to two thirds of my writing files or my musical instruments – I can’t access the tin food cupboard or the plates if I am hungry when Paul is out – I am finding more and more things out of bounds!

The amount of things I have had I have given away to charity in charity bags of mine over the past few months in order to try and shift things to make room and still there is no more room.  He stacks things differently in a way it takes up more space and I am left in wonder as to how the fuck he managed to do that?

Paul has a very strange incomprehensible phobia of putting up shelves, to make space.  He tells me to put shelves on the walls will make the walls fall down – this is a stone house…

Doesn’t make sense to me!

All I know is, several times this week I have wanted to review previous works done and I can’t find them!  I have also wanted to do some more art, but I can’t access the stuff!

I am going crazy… you have no idea how much at this point right now I actually want to SCREAM!

I really feel like jumping up and down on the spot screaming and screaming and screaming because of it – I want to scream at Paul for it, I want to scream him into action.  But I won’t, because I am passive and I don’t like negativity and whenever I try to assert myself with Paul he screams and usually takes out the mess blame on my son, which in turn starts him screaming and hurting himself and the Paul feels better because everyone feels as shit as he does and he knows that it’s just a screaming match and nothing else will happen.

So he can sit easy for another few weeks until I blow up again!

I don’t leave my bedroom unless to eat anymore.

Around September, I think I gave up. I’ve hardly done anything, because what’s the point? I am using energy without seeing rewards! I vacuumed three days ago and cleared my own personal corner in the living room. But, you can hardly notice now. I saw a banana skin left on the 3 seater that Paul and Henry shares, took 3 hours of nagging to make them throw it away in an actual bin! I’d have done it myself, but there was a pile of junk in front of the sofa where it was and Henry was sitting at the other end blocking access and wouldn’t give me it!

The horrifying things I have found around the house when cleaning I can’t mention, due to humiliation and disgust! One major thing is I have weak lungs and we do have black mould, but Paul won’t help me with it. I cant have my arms above my head for prolonged periods due to black outs and its above the window. Paul just doesn’t care, I sometimes wonder if my depression and apathy is actually a sort of empathic soak and not really my own problems at all. I am like a sponge, I totally absorb the energy around me and reflect it back – when around the wrong people, I become the wrong sot of person, but quickly become a different person around different energies.

That’s me.

That’s life here. 

I hate it.

I hate it so much!

It’s not me to be like that, dirty, apathetic, depressed, giving up – it’s not me at all!

Thanks for reading.

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