#so i guess ive spent the past couple of years recollecting myself and everything

[sorenlionheart]

i have to admit its kinda crazy being involved in fandoms again since the last time ive really been involved in a fandom was during my steven universe days

[sanctimoniousscrawlings]

Journal Entry #1

Or why I probably hate cleaning so much

Fair warning, this isn’t going to be interesting or creative or anything like that. I just know I’m supposed to keep a journal if I want to become healthier in mind. I kind of what to keep this private but I am hoping there’s a chance of someone who knows mood disorders that can give me advice if they see this. This also for self-therapy, I guess.

Current Status: Numb. Mixed episode. Spurts of Hypersexuality throughout the past few weeks, but also moments of severe depression.

I really need to clean my room and grandmother’s office. My room is so messy I stopped sleeping in it for a few weeks because there was a very large centipede that I had to dispatch in it and no creature on this planet terrifies me more; the ones in my area can get up to around a foot long and I swear to god they make screeching noises when you try to kill them and it’s horrifying. It might be my imagination but I’m not the only one here who has had this experience. The things are monstrous. That was a year ago give or take a couple months. Around that time, I knocked over my computer’s monitor and a bunch of stuff came unplugged. Since then I’ve used the computer in my grandmother’s office instead of the one in my room because I am afraid of being in my room. The thought of digging through the pile of clothing that coats the floor or one of the discarded boxes during cleanup only to find another monstrosity horrifies me when I start picking up and the feeling quickly becomes too much to bear. I say I feel bad because now I’m dirtying up my grandmother’s office. The longest I go without cleaning is maybe a couple weeks, but still. The desk is a mess that I have yet to get to. I’m planning on cleaning it and the rest of the room after I sleep but I’ll probably bail as soon as I wake up because I am awful.

Another reason I think I avoid cleaning is the first house I grew up in. I lived with my step-father until around the month I turned 8. We had a live-in housekeeper who didn’t actually do anything. My mother brought her into the house so she would have an affair with my step-father to give my mother an excuse to leave. It worked like a fucking charm. Who did all the cleaning in the house? Me. I deep cleaned the kitchen and bathroom with chemicals I now realize my use of would probably have been considered yet another form of abuse (other forms involved broken bones, bruises, and a lot of other shit I’m not going to talk about right now). My allowance- which I only got because the housekeeper’s son got one- was a quarter a week, I shit you not. My mother, who also has severe mental issues, was always in the same boat with cleaning as I am now. If I didn’t clean the house would look like my bedroom does right now. Right after my mother left my grandparents obtained custody of me. Or at least it seems like it was right after. I only have vague recollections of that time period because a month of it was spent me taking care of my 4 year old sister by myself because the housekeeper was out of state and my father was somewhere on a boat because of the coast guard and the rest of the time they were back the abuse got worse. I think I almost had to stay behind a grade because they never took me to school. Anyways, once my grandparents got me I entered a house with a completely different kind of cleaning atmosphere. The most cleaning that happened in that household was making sure there wasn’t crap all over the floor and the kitchen counters. Cobwebs built up. I believe a sliding door flat out rotted away along with some cupboards and parts of the bathroom. The back yard was piled with all sorts of crap- especially junk from cars. Looking back, it was a playground for tetanus- which is kind of terrifying because I used to climb those scrap piles. My grandfather belongs on hoarders; our current yard isn’t quite as bad but there are like six junk cars on the property.

So I went from one house with an anal step-father that made me do all the cleaning to another where everything just fell to entropy. This added onto my mental illness and genuine fear of what I might find if I clean... it all adds up.

But I’m just making excuses for myself. I need to get my ass in gear and unfuck my space.