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Empty House. I clean-ish up
As I typed this blog I started to realize all sorts of new things about myself, most of which were not all happy cloud thoughts. It is deeply self reflecting.

Empty House. I clean-ish up

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I’m not sure what it is about being alone in an empty house that makes me evaluate my surroundings and want to clean up more than any other time. I don’t deny that I am no longer anywhere near close to being a tidy person. I am on the other extreme just a few percentage points ahead of Hoarders or crazy cat ladies or other people that would be worthy of a television show just based on the fact that they are slobs. 

I have let myself believe several philosophies about the concept of germs and personal hygiene and other things that are accepted standards in social communities. The kind of things that could get me institutionalized or at least have authorities question my ability to take care of myself. 

So when I found myself alone for the afternoon I suddenly looked around the room and the surroundings just beyond the room including the bathroom. I’ve been asked to clean my bathroom several times and I cleaned parts of it twice. I didn’t really see the same mess they see but today I did. 

My bathroom is messy enough for me to be overwhelmed just thinking about how many steps are involved in cleaning it. Even the fact that the mirror has that watermarked milky white to it that mirrors get if they’ve been left too long without being cleaned. That alone is a multi-minent task that starts with me finding some cleaner and then rubbing it like the karate kid until it’s no longer streaking. 

I think there’s actually a newer reference than the karate kid. I seem to remember tick tock has a wipe wipe wipe meme and on the third wipe you turn into a princess or a filtered version of yourself in hot clothing that you would otherwise not be cleaning the bathroom in. 

I returned to my bedroom and saw it definitely needs a vacuum and some organization for the things that are currently just thrown on chairs or on top of the garbage can that I no longer have access to because it is where I put my pants. 

Add to this, my unruly hair and beard which should be washed and cut. When I moved, I didn’t take the right pieces so I no longer had my own shaver but that’s a weak excuse. I should certainly just be able to go out and get it cut. 

This new depth of abstinence from hygiene and tidiness has been progressing and I don’t want to blame it on my drugs but it’s difficult not to at this point. Although it is clear that I can be motivated to do computer work and be social while medicated this way, it has done nothing to assist me in the problem of not wanting to do what I don’t want to do. Not wanting to eat but I don’t want to eat. Basically since this amphetamine makes almost every decision I make seem like the right one, it stands to reason that every decision I don’t make seems like the right one too. 

And since I haven’t not been under its influence for quite some time, my choice to not tidy up or vacuum or shower or eat all seem like the right choices as well. Sadly, going against the common convention known as admitting it is half the battle, in this case knowing I have a problem is as easily ignored as the problem itself. 

Since it maintains a general level of happiness and confidence, I don’t pay attention to any logic that might tell me I’m wrong. In my head, it’s actually more logical to not maintain community standards of life. It makes more sense to me to throw my junk on the ground next to my bed and put it in the garbage later than to do it every time. I see no benefit in staying tidy since no one comes to visit me anyway. Tidiness is for others in my mind even though I am aware that is not the case for everyone else. 

It’s a weird situation for someone like me to find themselves in. I seem to be able to make up my own logic and justify it just fine within my brain and since I’m currently living in a home that seems to think the right choice was to let me be instead of enforcing hygiene and tidiness in any way. The quality that makes life good here is also the quality that lets me get away with things. There is no anger. There are no fights or lectures. But left without discipline, this is who I become and as long as I’m on drugs, I am content to be this person. Some might say I am proud to be this person, even though I am making these statements. I am torn. Change would require me to actually do things. To get up and vacuum or scrub the mirror. Not changing means I can pull the blankets up watch another hour of TV and nap until my next Duty pings the alarm at 4:00 p.m. 

Perhaps this is what my future talk with the family is about. Good people can only ignore bad behavior for so long before they feel the need to interfere. I feel like a teenager testing my parents to see how far I can go and then realize on the 60 year old man that can go as far as I want but all along I’ve been expecting my parents to stop me. My parents are long gone and my sister is only 7 years older than me but this is her house and her husband must be in some mental pain when he walks by my room or into the downstairs bathroom. He is a neat guy, and by that I mean he likes tidiness and things in order. 

My sister isn’t particularly tidy. She never has been and left alone she would probably live in a filth similar to mine at least for consecutive days up until a point where she too would turn around and notice and then clean up. I can’t be sure of this because it doesn’t get that far. Her husband cleans up for her. He wants to clean up for me but logic won’t let him. He can’t become servant to his tenant. And he shouldn’t. I can be aware of how unfair it is to him and still not want to vacuum. 

My brain battles an internal fight as to whether or not this is something I can’t control and part of adhd’s paralysis or whether it’s just me realizing it’s one more thing that I don’t actually have to do in life. I’ve lived much of my entire life not doing things others might consider have to do’s. It’s surprising how many things don’t need to be done to survive a happy life. There are some adjustments to make in order to sit among filth. I accepted those years ago when I lived with a hoarding mentor. I accepted that mentally I felt almost no difference between living in a tidy home and living in a pigsty. The main difference was how other people perceived me which at the time was far more important to me than it is today. I considered that an improvement and an advancement. What other people think isn’t that important and we are told that all the time. 

The day I figured it out, is the day I stopped putting things away. 

I just realized that I’m blogging because if I stop, there are other things to do and I don’t want to do them so I would much rather talk about not doing them in writing. I know that’s not right. I think I need to be higher to not think about it anymore. 

I know that’s wrong too but in a few minutes it will seem less wrong. Ouch. What a thing to admit in a blog that otherwise accepts who I am and what I use. I never considered my drug use a way to avoid life as so many others do when they talk about drugs and addiction. I didn’t think I was avoiding life. I thought I was making it something that I didn’t want to avoid. A better life. A life where I actually got things done and felt productive. 

I guess I’m avoiding the things I’m supposed to get done in favor of the things that are fun. That is a typical drug users pattern. Damn 

I guess you can’t escape the stereotype. We all eventually fall into what people thought we were all along. Drug addicts or drug users or druggies. That sucks. 

I think maybe I just spiraled while I was writing this and that I can come up with a new perspective that isn’t so negative and depressing. Let me reach for the bong and find out. 

Bad end of part 1.

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