chaos a.d.
LJ, I know I never call or write, but I haven’t forgotten you, really. Don’t wither away just because I don’t drop by as often as I once did. We’ll always have 2006.

At the moment, I am overwhelmed by…everything. I wouldn’t even necessarily call it a bad overwhelming, but the feeling is there. Work is very time-consuming, very chaotic--it goes well, but I’m very drained at the end of the day, as is inevitable with a new position. I don’t have any tangible yardsticks to measure how good I’m doing, so I hope I am doing well. No one has punched me or told me I should never have been born, so that’s a good sign, I think.

The house is a mess. I’m ready to just torch everything in here. I’m disgusted that I apparently can’t live simply enough, that I’ve accumulated all this crap. My children have so much stuff, yet they use so little of it. Do I want a bigger house? Yes, but we simply shouldn’t have all this stuff. The shape our house has been in since we brought everything back--a complete, utter mess--has me not wanting to come home at the end of the day. I get depressed when I walk in the door. And I fear that I’ve become a nag to my children--but their inability to pick up after themselves, to deal with anything without it being a crisis, is endlessly irritating. I love them dearly but they could be more responsible and helpful. Which suggests I’m setting a bad example. And that thought doesn’t help my frame of mind.

My writing has been dead since my week off. Last Sunday I finally did a bit of work, and I squeezed a tiny bit of time in on Wednesday. But the simple truth is, writing is getting pushed out in favor of everything else. If I can’t at least get this house to where I can walk through it, that won’t change. I just have no creative juice in me right now--I’m drained. I’m barely even reading. I knew this possibility existed when I started the new job, but in truth, I think the job is a small part of it. I think it’s the shape of the household. I severely underestimated how much it would take to sort through and deal with the storage unit stuff. My job, which is by no means bad, I can deal with. This household, I am losing my ability to deal with. Something is going to break soon. Probably me. But I’m good with baling twine and glue, and will put myself back together.