I hate this right now...

I'm so upset and fustrated right now with so many things that I just want to cry. I try so hard to make things more settled and easier to deal with right here in my home but I feel like I'm making no progress. I'm struggling to just keep my home clean. I simply don't feel that I can do this successfully because I've got no apparent room right now. I realize that I'm probably looking at this all the wrong way. It most likely makes me an idiot.

The mess with the damn car... I hate that car. I really have begun to hate this things with a passion. And I'm beginning to hate the entire mess surrounding locating a new car as well. I'd add more but I think that would just spawn another argument with my husband. He reads this too and I think he knows where I stand on this, so I won't hit the matter on the head again.

I'm so upset and fustrated with the way things stand right now that I feel torn between crying and throwing things. I wonder somedays if there is a point to my continually attempting to do things like get my home clean or anything else like that. All it adds up to is an attempt. I feel like I'm not really treading water here. Each dish I wash winds up dirty later and needs washed again. Each scrap of clothing I clean needs to be cleaned again later. Folding up and putting clothes away is just not possible right now because of all the crap piled up everywhere. I can't put things away because I have no place for them. Why?

Because stuff is packed in boxes. Because the damn boxes are piled up everywhere. Because I can't carry shit into the damn storage shed between it being too heavy and I have no way to secure it in the shed. Why can't I secure it? Because the stupid lock that I had in the kitchen has gone god knows where after I put it on my husband's desk almost a month and a half ago when I asked him to move a few boxes out there.

So... what the hell is the point?

I spend my time during the day attempting to find some way to balance keeping the domestic concerns in check with raising the boy and also getting back into my writing, and possibly even attempting to run a business on-line doing tarot readings. I feel like all of the effort I'm putting in is futile at best, worthless at worst, and at the end of the day I don't know what the hell I'm doing wrong.

Sure, one could say that I'm trying to do too much but it doesn't change the fact that it needs done.

I'm not bitching about how my husband doesn't do anything to help. He works and brings home the money we need to put food on the tables, to make the car run (and to even get us a car), and to keep the roof over our heads. I can't say that's not enough because it's all I can ask of him. It's the reasonable thing to ask of him.

But... gods help me, I don't know what I'm going to do on keeping up my end of the bargin because I think I'm doing it wrong. My anxiety problem is making it hard for me to sleep at night and for me to write. I'm having difficulty feeling safe because the constant cat-fights next door are aggrivating my PTSD and I keep feeling that I need to be ready for some one to assault me. Everytime I look around here, I see constant reminders that I'm falling down on the job here, even if it is in my own head.

~ Edited To Add: ~

I've spent a little bit trying to get a few things done and I've since found that lock. Maybe I'll be able to get a few boxes over to the storage shed this afternoon. We'll see.