Hi folks. It’s a beautiful sunny Sunday, and I’m a bit more settled than I’ve been on recent Sundays. I’ve been busy with socialising and being out and about for the last week. It actually feels OK to take a day off from all that and just please myself, mooching about my house and generally doing what comes naturally.
I’ve engaged a cleaner to come tomorrow morning, and am already fretting about what she will find. I feel I should clean for the cleaner but still have barely lifted a finger. What I really want is not to have someone do it all for me, but someone to give me moral support and maybe work alongside me. The motivation to do it in the first place. The feeling that it matters what sort of state my house is in. I fear that only another person can really do that for me.
My self-neglect does not extend to neglecting my food, sleep and personal hygiene, but it does extend to letting the place go. This stuff is important. I deserve to live in a reasonably clean and tidy home, whatever lengths I have to go to to achieve this.
I’m also a bit embarrassed. She will probably be puzzled as to why I can’t do it myself. And dirt and mess is quite a personal thing. Ah well. We’ll see how it goes. I hope she’s understanding and doesn’t secretly despise me, lol.
My son J phoned last night. He had received my letter, originally written for his birthday but sent a week later because I didn’t want to upset him in any way. He found it a nice letter though, and it made him cry a bit. He’s cried a few times he says. He’s been contemplating his disinclination to live and his dislike of other people. He admits he is unhappy though. He doesn’t like the foster placement and has argued with the foster carer. He complains that she is nothing like a counsellor. The social worker had been to see him and given him to understand that no move was planned for the time being.
In many ways I can relate to my son. I don’t much like living either, it is a necessary evil in my book. There really is no alternative, so we must make the best of it, hey folks? Life goes by quicker when one is productively engaged, so it’s certainly not in our interests to sit on our arses doing nothing. I too am most comfortable on my own and messing about on the internet. I too am ambivalent toward other people (as to myself), and recently have struggled to like them unequivocally (and not to judge and be annoyed by them secretly). I think I manage, with a greater or lesser degree of success, to hide my feelings. He may not have yet developed this necessary subterfuge.
I made it clear to him that I would be delighted to have him back living with me under some very important conditions. He has to be doing a bit more than what he currently is. Getting up in the morning, washed and dressed, eating meals downstairs, keeping his room reasonably tidy, engaging in some social interaction and realistically facing his future; these should be givens. He also needs to get out and exercise in the fresh air. Contribute to the running of the house. Begin learning to cook and prepare food for himself. See a counsellor once a week as a bare minimum.
If he’s genuinely mentally or emotionally unwell he probably needs more intervention than just a counsellor/therapist once a week. He doesn’t think he is unwell though.
Poor old chap. Bless his poor suffering heart.