I’m a big fan of accepting who you are. Unless it’s inconvenient.
In my case, I’m having a hard time dealing with the reality of my living situation, and the intrusiveness of the questions I’m being asked to justify my disability. My favorite is, “Who does your housework?”
Seriously? No one.
If I’m not able to get to it, then it waits until I can.
If a person’s home is their sanctuary, then I shouldn’t have to deal with other people in my space.
Perfect example about why I don’t want to hire a maid or housekeeper: the yard work is beyond me, but I’ve been doing my best to keep the grass trimmed following all this Winter’s rain. However, I suck at the yard work as I have to be in good shape, breathingwise, to turn on the mower. Mostly, I focus on just getting the basics covered. Barely.
Being efficient, though, I asked a helpful neighbor to trim the grass for me while I was gone. R does all the groundskeeping at the apartment complex, and I knew he could use the dough. However, he completely decimated the work I had done in the last two years to get drought-tolerant groundscover in place, and ripped out my blue vine-like cover for visual privacy between myself and the neighbor’s bedroom window across the yard.
R also added cactuses throughout the yard, which I dislike. Who wants to be stuck by something prickly and green? I like my spots of color, which would have bloomed (if left alone) later in the Spring.
Clearly, the yard looks much better. However, I’m still feeling alienated from my own home just because of plants. And removal of detritus related to plant / yard maintenance.
Seriously, I have “plant” control issues?!?!! I need to get a life.
There were other things R did to the yard and my placement of plantings and storage that irritated the crap out of me, but in the long list of COPD grievances I may have, I need to let this go. So, I thanked him for his hard work, said nothing about my alienation, and yet I’ve been home a week and I’m nothing but aggravated every time I look at the yard.
Learning to pick my battles and focus on those things I can and cannot handle is more important than getting aggravated at a well-meaning neighbor. Which brings me full circle to how out of control my life is. I don’t really pay attention to the mail, and I have “piles” of projects half done, depending on my energy levels on any particular day. I missed an important set of paperwork that needed to be done, and got a 10-day notice on Tuesday which sent me scrambling to get it addressed yesterday.
Having to answer pages and pages about how I cope is very aggravating as I lie to myself about my priorities and live like a teenager in a dirty room. Not “Hoarders” dirty, but bad enough in its own way, as illustrated by the dust on the lamp base in my bedroom.
In the long run, if I’m approved for disabilty, I’m hoping this will be the impetus I need to move into new housing that will work better for my needs as my world gets smaller and smaller.
I’m really sorry to have to leave this neighborhood, with its convenient YMCA, fishing, stores, and decent neighbors. Hopefully, though, any transition I make to Morgan Hill will find me just as happy with much less space to maintain.
Meanwhile, my fishing gear is sitting by the front door, and I will always prefer to take a day off to go fishing than waste it cleaning my house. Sad but true, but it’s that lack of discipline which confirms that I’m no Wonder Woman.
The key question is whether or not it’s laziness or breathing difficulties / energy levels that have me living in a sty.
Hopefully, I’ll be approved for disability so that I’m not in dire straights with options I cannot accept. And, hopefully, the lawyer will move his butt on my benefits denial lawsuit so that I’m not out of funds before anybody makes an actual decision about what’s best for keeping me healthy.