funk creeping away

It’s been more than a year since I fell into a hole, a funk, this low-level paralysis. After Mom died, I couldn’t seem to shake the sadness off. Not that it was unremitting—it wasn’t, or isn’t, just mostly. But lately, it seems to be lifting more and more. I don’t know if it’s the St. John’s Wort Stanley gave me to try that’s finally kicking in, or if it’s just time, or a weariness at being immobilized helping me emerge. Maybe a combination, and the telling of how bad I’ve been feeling to my sister and to Stanley a couple of months ago.

That’s not to say the blue is not kicking me in the ass still. It is. Hard sometimes. But I’m starting to get out of my way more. I love this song—it’s kind of my current anthem because, oddly enough, it cracks me up and helps me keep things in perspective:

I’m thinking about the garden, and what I want to do this spring. I even ordered tomato plants from White Flower Farm.

I’ve started to dig out the house. I’m so shocked about how messy, no, dirty it’s gotten. Clutter, cobwebs, dust frankenbunnies. Crap just piling up. Stanley’s been good about taking care of the day-to-day stuff, the dishes, cooking and cleaning up, the trash, cleaning up after the creatures. But I sure haven’t been pulling my weight. It’s amazing how much just piles up from just living. So I started by unburying the living room this weekend—the easiest to start with.

And started on the parlor, which we’ve been using as a repository of everything. This room, decluttered, is gorgeous—very plain, very New England, but something about the dimensions are just right and it’s just so, serene is the word, when it’s tidy.

Worked quite a bit, and have, in my head, a to-do list that’s quite long. I started feeling bad that I wasn’t getting as much as I wanted done, but stopped that train because it’s taken a year to get this bad and because I know it would go faster if Stanley could help, but he’s been working on a job that has a tight deadline and has been coming home exhausted every day (he even got blisters on his knees). So I’ll be content to get a little done every day until my house is back under some form of control (it’s never completely under control—200-year-old houses are in no way easy to maintain and we have a lot to do). I know it will get done. And I know it isn’t necessary to get it done yesterday.

Work is starting to get better, too. I’ve been able to get more and more done. I’m still way behind, but I can feel things starting to get back to my normal output.

There are some more issues I really need to deal with. One step at a time, though. I can’t get frustrated at slow, as long as it’s mostly forward.

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