“Can I throw this out, mom?”
“No, I want to eat it later.” “No, I want to use it later.” “No, it might be useful later”.
JEEZ. What is with my household and hoarding? I can’t manage more than 20 minutes of cleaning at a time because at some point I realize it’s hopeless. A decade and a half of accumulated junk is just too much. The house isn’t very big, but it shocks me how many individual items can be crammed into a small space. I’m the type of person to use and move on, discarding items that I don’t plan on using in the next five years. I love having an organized room (NOT neat, just organized) with items placed into their respective piles (messes!). It feels like the more I try to press that system into the rest of the house, the more I realize how futile my efforts are.
The worst part of it all is that I’m allergic to dust. So…my house is sometimes quite the nightmare. I don’t think it’s so much of a fact that my family is lazy (they’re not, I’m the one that likes to sloth around!), we just have difficult not keeping things. My entire family has OCD (obsessive collecting disorder…I wish it were the other OCD) and we love to make collections of things of little value. Our fireplace is a premium example of that.
It’s Father’s Day, one of my least favourite days of the year as people tend to express their appreciation and gratefulness on Facebook and I have to leave that website closed or I tend to swell up like a balloon (with envy and awe). I mean my dad could’ve been worse. But he could’ve been a lot better. Even now, I kinda resent him for still being in my life but not really being there at all. (He sucks).
But also it reminds me I need to do a lot more for a my mom though, but I don’t know – my family has problems with affection and sentiment. I guess I do too. I used to make my mom cards when I was younger (dad too but ugh), but I don’t know what I could possibly get her now…there’s too much stuff in the house. Maybe when I’m older and have the resources I’ll pay her the appreciation she deserves.
Coming back home after being gone for a year (okay, more like 8 months) feels no different than if I had never left. Other than the fact that my dad took my room. But they took my room long before I had left. One of the things I miss is privacy…not that I had much of that either in Toronto.
Ugh lots of negative feelings…
Now that that’s out of the way…I’m determined to cook more this year. Cause someday I might be on my own and I don’t want to be clueless. Also determined to pull myself together. Do better in school and fix my friendships (cause those are very few in number at the moment…and it’s entirely my fault for being so away). It’d be nice to have someone to talk to – not about school, not about other people, but about life and what we’re going through, and have a serious conversation at a deeper level…I mean again…? I don’t know. Blurry lines when it comes to relationships.
Love. Your. Life. ‘Cause the only opinion about you that matters is your own. ❤