Despite expectations or hope -from myself or others – that I will live or behave normally, my fallback position on most things these days is – why bother?
I know the house is a mess. I know I like it better when things are clean and clutter is managed. But, who cares – not me, apparently. I used to make lists of things to do. I got some pleasure from checking off those little boxes. Now, a list just seems to stare at me and mock. Reminding me, as another day passes without action, that I can’t do it. But why bother – people rarely visit and I live alone. If anyone shows up at my house and I can’t keep them corralled outside on the carport, at least the kitchen is the least shitty. A few weeks ago I had to stop pacing in therapy long enough to get a stone or something out of one of my shoes. (Princess and the pea syndrome). I was a bit embarrassed when a handful of sunflower seed shells tumbled out. Guess I shouldn’t walk around the house in socks.
I know I often stink these days. I have a perfectly functional shower and soap. Again, who cares? The only reason to bathe, most times, is so as not to offend others. Most often, if I have to meet with people, I make a conscious effort to keep from flapping my arms around too much. Try to keep the offending scent molecules in a tight orbit. Interestingly, I kinda like the smell of BO. Guess it reminds me of a hard working man. If closer contact with others is upcoming – like a doctor’s appt., I give myself what my great grandmother referred to as a “whore’s bath”. A bit of a shock when I first heard her say this.
Another area where I fall short is preventative health care. I currently have and have had orders for a mammogram and screening colonoscopy. Nope, not going to happen. Can’t see the use when I’m not sure I’m sticking around and frankly, I often hope for an incurable disease to take me anyway. Less guilt that way.
Cooking is the same. Yes, I can and could fix something yummy, but why bother when there are perfectly good frozen meals available. Half the time, by the time I do cook, I’ve lost my appetite and I end up wasting food. (Yes, fresh corn, I see you in the crisper.) FFS-it’s just corn, the agricultural economy is not going to crash just because I buy, then throw out food. Food – whatever it is – is just to stop the pangs of hunger, it doesn’t matter what it is. I used to love to cook and eat, but that pleasure is a distant memory.
Relationships with other living thing – usually disappointing and a pain in the ass. I will admit to a guilt driven habit of throwing sunflower seeds and peanuts out for the birds and squirrels on a daily basis. They’ve come to rely on me, I think, for a good portion of their daily calories. At least, if I snub them, there won’t be any awkward phone calls asking why.
People are trickier. If too many days or weeks go by without contact from me they may start to try to reach out. I should be grateful that they try, but really, I’m not going to enjoy it, don’t need it, and can’t be bothered to act interested.
I’ve very often wondered why I keep going to therapy. I often feel worse afterwards, occasionally self harm because of it, and really don’t see the point. There might be a better place to spend that money. To be honest, since I receive SSDI benefits, I’ve been worried that they might be cut off if I stop going. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d bother.
“Why bother-itis” – too bad there isn’t an NSAID for that.