the truth is...

I made my bed four times yesterday and not because of an OCD episode. I was having a hard time physically removing myself from it. I’m not exactly sick, though I’m certain I've been fighting something for awhile. I've never been the type to sleep in, not even as kid. My internal clock doesn't know how to go past six am. But every now and again without warning, an exception slips in.

I became a volunteer hostage. My only brief escape was a tip toe down for the bathroom and water and climbed back into the inviting down.  When the time came and I actually tried to get up it was futile. I eventually got free but kept toying with the idea of climbing back in. So I decided that if I “made it” it would totally keep me away. Clearly that wasn't the case. After a few in’s and out’s and feeling overly indulgent I got to wondering is it so terrible? So I grabbed my laptop to work on some projects in bed.  

Sitting there I started thinking of “the list”. Everything that my day had in store was being ignored. Anxiety was creeping in and I sincerely felt panicked that I wouldn't be taking the recycling to the center that day.

GASP oh.holy.cow.

When did worry become about laundry and dishes and errands and create such irrational behavior? Of course I’m a grown up now and all these task accumulate to a productive day but it’d become like  crack. Being busy has a way of making you feel significant. Maybe an insecurity about what you’re busy with causes you to extend the ”to do list” in order to compensate for what you feel are your short comings.  

Because “mommies” are busy and I’m not a mommy I often feel the need to be preoccupied and justify how my time is spent. It’s messed up. No one has ever interrogated me about my daily grind but I’m prepared if they do. Ready, set, go and I’ll rattle off every trivial bit with emphasis on its supreme value and all the energy exhausted in the process. It’s sick, crack, like domestic woman’s crack.

I stayed put. There were clean clothes to put on, enough food for dinner and at present that was what really mattered and I refused convince myself otherwise. Admission admitted and recovery to follow. The list was done later and to no one’s surprise it was all fine.