Every time I try to involve myself in cleaning of part of the house, it starts off well enough. I pick up a few things, throw a few things away, move some stuff around. Getting stuff done! Soon I start to realize that I've spent ten to fifteen minutes trying to sort absolute junk and have only managed to move stuff around in a small section of one room. Then the ire starts to well up inside me because all I want to do is to take 4 out of every 5 things I see and make its way into the trash, with some force if possible. If I have the patience to soldier on my mood continues to get worse. This is when my head goes all red, I start breathing slowly and deeply, smoke starts coming out of my nose, followed by my ears, then I float in midair while stiffening my legs and pointing my fists to the floor and whistling like a locomotive, then I scream (I have video, but last time I posted it Warner Bros. had it removed for copyright infringement).
As funny as this is for the casual observer, my kids don't like it, my wife doesn't like it, and I don't like it very much either. For this reason, I rarely help with the cleaning of the house unless it is targeted to a small area or involves copious amounts of garbage. The goal is to get her to get rid of the stuff, to be a part of her getting well and resetting her mind. It isn't working now. I hope to be a part of her solution without undermining her healing. It is difficult to wait for her, and I don't think she is eager to get better.
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