I'm going through one hell of a divorce.
There, I admitted it.
emotionally over the failure that was my marriage, and I may have sufficiently grieved the loss of "the dream" and all those hopes and plans laid up with the wrong person, but the divorce part in itself sucks balls. Big, sweaty, hairy balls that smell like rotten cheese. The headaches of trying to short sale the house I willingly walked away from, the legalities of having to wait one long-ass year of an official separation before we can move forward with severing the marital bond between us on paper and the painstaking particulars of co-parenting long distance with a douche canoe ...
< insert one long, exasperated sigh here >
If I was a drinker, I would be drunk right now.
Instead, my fridge still sits aptly stocked full with half a liquor store's shelf supply in leftovers from my divorce party held last weekend (more on that soon, I promise!). If I have even one drink tonight, I won't make it to bed without washing my face and brushing my teeth ... I'll just pass out in a heap at the bottom of my bed with all my clothes on. J-dog will effectively steal my pillows at the top of the bed and I'll wake up in the middle of the night with sock-in-the-mouth breath, moaning about the misery that is my life because I can't get her to move.
Don't worry. My life isn't miserable. Far from it actually. For a divorcing single mother with a thousand and one obligations and responsibilities, I'm surprisingly happy most of the time. Ecstatic even. Divorce is freeing; it was in my marriage that I was miserable, let's not forget.
I think I'm just feeling a little burned out.
My house is so messy and disorganized lately that an exhaustion-induced voice in my head keeps telling me to just throw things away instead of figuring out where to put put them. Trashing the mess seems like an easier solution than finding the time and energy to deal with it. Instead, I just shove things into areas of the house that I don't use very often. Like my guest bedroom. Or my downstairs closet. Then there is the basement ...
I just don't have time to deal with most of it. Changing between winter and summer clothes, paperwork, mail and more paperwork, baby stuff that needs to be sold or donated, crap, crap and more crap. It never ends.
There's also a possibility that I may have to move in less than a year, so really -- why should I bother doing anything at the moment?
Sure, I clean up our kitchen regularly. And I vacuum the house many times a week. I also do the bathrooms pretty often and our laundry is usually done (although, hardly ever put away). But the rest of this place? Oh.My.God. My married\-self would have cringed, cried and then cracked if she had to live in such a state of chaos. Don't even get me started on my car. That beast hasn't had a bath since before the STBX and I separated!
Having ADHD doesn't help either. It instead has the opposite effect. My piles of crap are accumulating their own piles of paper and my piles of paper are buried under crap.
It is time for some spring cleaning big-time, but all I really want to do is hibernate like a bear and catch up on my sleep. And my photography. And this blog. Oh, yeah and maybe throw myself into my real job too so that I don't lose it any time soon.
I knew divorce would be messy when I decided to take that route, but I had no idea how literal the concept was. I need a maid but instead, I pay a lawyer.
Maybe I should have a drink tonight ... just one. Then bed. I can't see the mess with my eyes closed.