The one thing I always loved amongst all the household chores is scrubbing the floors. Doing that has always felt therapeutic. It felt like I was cleansing away the dirt from my life. Except I don’t remember the last time I scrubbed the floors. Everything, ranging from the tabletops to the ever increasing pile of clothes hanging by the wall to the floor is covered in a fine layer of dust, or should I say, multiple layers of dust.
It’s not just the floors. I don’t remember the last time I cooked a decent meal because I enjoyed cooking something. I don’t know when was the last time I even changed these sheets. Or the last time I had a face mask on. Or a hair mask. Or the last time I did the laundry keeping up with the schedule. Or the last time I even did any academic related work.
It just hit me. I have hit rock bottom once again. Except this time I didn’t spend days curled up in bed, crying away to my heart’s content. No, this time I spent days staring at the walls, binge watching random shows, sitting in the kitchen and staring into the void, sitting on the floor in the corner of my room with my eyes glued to the phone, drinking mugs and mugs of coffee, but all this time I did nothing at all. I just mobilised myself this time and sat around in different corners of my apartment, whilst my brain was back in the same old rut of darkness.
It took me so long to comprehend the fact that I was back in the dark place due to how different everything was this time. The crying was absent and in my head I always assumed that if I’m not crying, then I’m fine. But now I understand that at least when I’m crying, I know and accept the fact that I’m not okay. Take away the tears and I end up spending weeks in denial, telling myself that I’m just being lazy.
This is not laziness. I know what laziness is. It is when I postpone the chores I’m meant to do on Saturday to Sunday and manage to finish them off, albeit it being a day later. Laziness is when I do the laundry and take two days to fold the clothes instead of folding them instantly. Laziness is when I don’t change the sheets for two or three days more.
What’s happening now is not laziness. Despite being aware of how very disgusting things are around me, I’m not doing anything. I’m not moving. I don’t have the willpower in me to motivate myself to move. The fire within is completely extinguished and I don’t know how to rekindle it again. I don’t know how to breathe life back to the shell of a human being I am. I just don’t know.