I’m not an organized person at home. Back in the day, when I used to work full time, I would be very organized at work, but it’s like I would leave it there when I clocked out. When Depression moved in, he made it worse. I coined a phrase (although it probably isn’t original). He turned me into a Functioning Depressive (is that even a word??). Outside my front door, everything was “normal.” I’m doing all the stuff I normally do, usually with a smile on my face. I even managed to go to Kohl’s on Friday and buy two new sweaters (they were 1/2 price – love a sale!).
But Depression would sneak in if a friend asked “how’s it going?” and I’d fall apart. Quietly, though, hiding behind my sunglasses.
But you should see the inside of the house. OK, maybe I don’t need to go on “Clean Sweep” or Oprah’s messiest house shows, but really? It’s a mess.
Mail, for example. We keep mail in a basket on the steps, just inside the front door. The last few weeks, I haven’t really gone through it, except to pull out the bills. As of Sunday morning I had Three. Steps. Full. Of mail. Crazy, right? Magazines, catalogs, ads, junk mail, you name it. It was there. So, Sunday morning I had had enough. I sat down and started going through the stacks.
There is was.
From Kohl’s, a $10 gift card to use on anything. Something they had sent in the mail a couple weeks back. I vaguely remembered at the time thinking “Cool! I can always find something at Kohl’s.” Did I remember on Friday that I had it? No. Depression wanted it for himself. Could I use it for something else? No. It expired on Saturday.
Stupid Depression. Now he’s stealing money, too. I bet he and High Blood Pressure went on a shopping spree.