I aten’t dead. I am not a filthy hermit. This is not a picture of me in the kitchen, I swear.
It’s been a tough week since the Bloke left, and the following month is likely to be even rougher, but I am going to make it. I’m fine. This is also not me.
Though to be honest, it’s a pretty close call. The goals of not being filthy and not being a hermit can conflict, and while I have had enough showers to go out, the kitchen is not exactly pristine. I’m not used to living on my own, and it’s kind of weird the way nothing cleans itself up. Everything is exactly as I left it last time, though possibly a bit more covered in cat fur.
I’ve been out several times: a knit group, a boardgames meetup, the chemist, and yesterday I visited Companion House to drop off some donations. I don’t usually leave the house four times in a week, but it was all either good or essential. I loved the boardgames meetup, where I spent a good three hours playing games with friendly strangers and did not even once talk about being sick. I crashed like mad when I got home, and was a write-off the next day too, but WORTH IT.
I also had a massage with an in-home service, and that was lovely. It’s been ages. It also left me super drained for the rest of the day, which was a bit surprising.
As well as making the effort to go out more, my step count is up just from the small things. Just the effort of daily living is exhausting. No-one will fetch me a jug of water, or take my dinner plate out to the kitchen, or go to the chemist for my scripts, or hang out my laundry for me. Or even just turn on the light so I’m not sitting on the couch playing games alone in the dark – fate only narrowly averted a couple of times this week so far.
I think I need to take it a bit easier in the coming weeks, but that’s also hard because my to do list is ever growing. I have had a couple of kind friends offer to help, and I probably should take them up on it, but I don’t quite know how. So many little bitty jobs to do, and some I must do myself because no-one can sort out my clothes for me.
I have made a long list and am checking things off, and there are a couple of things I feel I could ask for. Folding the laundry, maybe. Winding some yarn. But can I really ask someone to clean my kitchen? It seems wrong. It’s my mess. I should clean it myself, or at least pay someone. And even if someone offers, do I then have to be social? Because some days I don’t have spoons for that. Can I be OK enough to be social and yet at the same time, not OK enough to do things myself? Asking for help is hard and confusing.
At least I’m eating well. There were leftovers for a few days, and some freezer meals, and I even made a fake eggplant parmigiana (bake sliced eggplant with a jar of pasta sauce over the top, add grated cheese.) I’m quietly proud that I managed to go over a full week before ordering delivery. Now the fridge is well-stocked with Chinese leftovers. I hadn’t actually planned to do that for a few days yet, but then I crashed too hard after dropping in to Companion House, and sweet & sour pork was calling my name. And I think that wasabi beef will go quite well with the leftover parmigiana. Call it fusion and it’s all good.