I have been struggling to get stuff I need to do done. I have piles of laundry waiting to be folded up and put away. I have piles of laundry that are waiting to be washed (but that is not as big of a deal because it is more or less par for the course). My kitchen has dishes waiting to be put away, dishes waiting to be washed, and a coffee maker that desperately need to be scrubbed. There are piles of papers everywhere. And I know that each one has several things that are important buried in them.
I am just overwhelmed by it all. It's made me a bit snappish. I have been trying not to be cranky and bitchy but it has been pretty hard. I am a bit better than I was earlier this evening. The kids picking up their toys and the books that were scattered around the house helped with that. (A chaotic and cluttered space contributes to sensory overload and anxiety for me.) I still am not at a very good place mentally right now.
I feel like I am an enormous fraud. I look at the writing stuff that I have been wanting to do and I feel badly that I'm not doing it. I look at the handcraft stuff that I was planning on doing. I feel guilty that I don't have pretty much any of it done yet. I feel like there are a thousand things that I should do and that I'm not getting done. I feel like I am not at *baseline* for competence, despite the fact that I have managed to keep the kids fed, prevented the household from collapsing into a black hole, and got the kids to do their homework.
My therapist tells me not to think so much about stuff. It is really hard to not do that. I look at everything and I find myself compulsively turning stuff over in my head trying to figure things out, assess if I am doing enough, and generally gauge my progress towards my goals. Fuck anxiety with a rusty chainsaw.