Housekeeping for the Bipolar Woman

This is what my kitchen CAN look like.

My aging dog has been sick for a few days, which can lead to some late nights for me. We're close to the end of this episode, but I decided to give him another dose of the mix he needs to purge the badness from his system.

I planned to stay up with him (rather than berate myself for terrible sleep habits as I normally do) so I'm doing dishes and laundry at 4AM in between taking him outside so that he'll expell the evil in his system outdoors rather than in the apartment. I am still hoping to tackle at least part of the living room.

I wanted to have guests over for the Packer games this season but right now the living room is an atrocious mess, wholly unfit for visitors. Thursday is the Packers/Bears game, though, and I'm kinda tempted to give up and move what I haven't neatened up to the bedroom just to have people over. I'm holding myself to a standard ("you didn't keep house correctly the first time, you WILL make it perfect before you are allowed visitors") that doesn't seem to make sense to a lot of my friends. In addition I'm excruciatingly embarrassed by my mess. It isn't filth, don't get me wrong; it's just papers and projects and things that stack up while you are wrestling with poorly-controlled bipolar disorder. You start a project and lay everything out. Then you get too manic to function and hide from people for weeks and are too angry to do anything. Then you get depressed and barely feed yourself, let along pick anything up from a couple months of mania or unpack the shopping you manage to do. Bags pile up...

It's not as bad as it was in CA but the fact that it is still in me disgusts me. This is not what I want my home to be like. I want it to be comfy and pretty and welcoming and relaxing. If I still have to have times that I need to sequester myself from everyone I at least want to have a lovely place to heal rather than being locked away staring at the physical manefestations of my bullshit and absolutely fearing a knock on the door.

Most of my local friends have seen my apartment in this state or worse due to emergencies or well-intended visits. That panic of having people see this part if me takes over my mind as the primary concern of the moment, however, making me a less effective or less pleasant friend. I'm terribly anxious in most social situations anyway. Having this idiocy on top of that truly becomes too much to handle.

At any rate, I think I'll have to force my head into gathering for the game on Thursday kicking and screaming. Wanting to see people while simultaneously wanting to hide from them - or, worse, drive them away - is kinda a painful place to be.