One of my life challenges is being a germ phobe. So when a rabbit plunged underneath my kitchen table and knocked over an electric popcorn popper I was storing underneath against the wall and then sat on the nonwashable nonstick cooking surface, I automatically nixed that popcorn popper from future use. That's how I am.
I didn't use to be that stringent. Many years of chronic illness later, I am keenly aware that germs can wreak havoc in our bodies. I grew up on a farm, and although I was strong and very capable of long work days (the horror, lol), I am not a strong adult. Pathogens and injuries are cumulative, and every day I face hard work just getting out of bed and keeping a routine going.
My depression went into the extremes this last year, but I kept doggedly at least keeping up with a schedule, forcing myself to keep cleaning up after others over and over, day in and day out. We have a verbal agreement that as long as they are out making money and living emotionally healthy lives, I will do the laundry and the dishes, and I throw in cleaning the bathrooms once in awhile. I've already made it through one surgery during this extra challenge, basically still doing all these chores myself when I should have probably been in bed, and in about a month I face a double surgery that will knock me off a chore schedule for at least a week or two. Right hand, right knee. You can imagine the fail I feel looking around my house. I could post pictures, but since a 'friend' showed up out of the blue and put my house all over the internet some years ago, and then a visiting group from China walked through my house another year unannounced, taking pictures over every room including the pile of dirty dishes on my counter during one of my chronic months when everything fell apart, I don't feel inclined to add to that kind of stuff.
In short,
no one cleans up after me. They gag just cleaning up after themselves, so they don't. I find dishes all over the house, dirty socks have sat on my kitchen counter next to open food, stuff in the fridge I never bought will sit and rot until I throw it out, and on really bad days my house smells like something died.
I spent the first two days of this 'vacation' airing out my house, scrubbing the trash can, deep cleaning bathrooms and floors, literally disinfecting a rabbit cage that stunk to high heaven,
on top of executing a new plan.
This is obviously no longer 'my house'. I am allowed to live here, yes, but all three stories are saturated with other people's things. A lot of my stress is about shared space. I'm a phobe, it's hard for me to share space. I need a place to withdraw, which is difficult. A person might not believe she did this, but three different times in the week before departure, I was walked in on in my own bedroom without so much as a knock, and the talking started the second the door was open. No knock, no hello mind if I come in and tell you something, no good morning or how's it going. Just full on walking in without warning. She's 30. It's my house, my bedroom. My mind is blown every time that happens. I don't own one square foot of sanctity or solitude in my own home. And I'm very forgiving of it because I know, given the personalities of the people I married into, this is much better than fussing.
But I need a boundary. I spent this week 'pulling back'. I cleaned out the last of my stuff in the livingroom and pulled in into my bedroom. Everything that is not mine or Scott's is going to be pushed out of my bedroom before my double surgery date. By the time I'm home recovering from surgery, I will have a clean
peaceful bedroom to rest in.
I'm done with the rabbit. I like rabbits, I grew up with rabbits, but nothing is being done to satiate this rabbit's craving to chew, and it's only a matter of time before our expensive electronics become useless. No attention has been given to putting a little time and effort into protecting electrical cords to appliances that will cost thousands to replace. No pet toys for chewing show up. This rabbit has spent weeks throwing itself against the cage door upstairs. It absolutely hates living here. I had the rabbit brought down to the kitchen to care for while everyone was gone, and aside from being shut into a bathroom for a few hours to hop around every day, which it hates, throwing itself against and chewing the door, it has been in its cage, and I daresay, this is the longest its cage has been this clean since it moved into this house. This is not a happy rabbit. It feels the same way I feel, trapped and helpless to do anything about it.
I got a lot done though. Stripping out drawers and being able to lay everything out on my livingroom floor for a week without anyone walking on or moving any of it has been delightful. The longer my stuff sat all around me being organized, the lower my stress went until I was so relaxed that I actually felt good. I was doing all kinds of work with very little pain stopping me.
They come home today, any time now. I woke up 2 hours ago with a headache, and every joing in my body hurts. Interesting.
I love my people. I think they are fine the way they are, and this is just how it is. I don't think I fit in with them. I have made myself fit with with lots of concessions over many years. That has taken a big toll on me. I am different and they don't understand, just like they don't really see how the rabbit feels. They don't know what to do for me, so they walk off, just like they walk off from the rabbit. I don't feel an affinity for the rabbit because it's just more work, in my opinion. Whatever 'love' that is supposed to be going on with a pet is being entirely lost on this rabbit. It's just a piece of furniture, a fluffy doll to babysit the kid, something to learn about life on.
Unlike the rabbit, I don't feel like I'm something to learn about life on. I am a useful servant. In my own home.
I needed to get this out before my people walk in the door. It helps just to get the words out of the way. I hate judgmentalism because I grew up with it, and I'm finding out it takes a lot to keep positivity in focus. I hate being a cranky gripey person, and not feeling well makes it harder to be sweet. I want them to be happy to come home. I want to be happy to see them. I did miss them, but I sure didn't miss the extra work.
Time to let this go. Maybe I can sneak that popcorn popper out to the trash before they pull in.
p.s. I've been bringing in handfuls of fresh clover from the yard for the rabbit, also has things to chew on this week, plus a little fresh lettuce. It's been a bit calmer, but until it's free of this cage, I'm afraid it will always be sulky, and I don't blame it one bit.
