Can I Ever Be Normal?

Sometimes, (well, A LOT of times), I wonder if I’ll ever be normal or even feel somewhat normal. I did make an attempt, a feeble one, to clean up some of the garbage in my kitchen and on the counter. But it looks like I have not even put a dent in the mess. I took out 4 bags of garbage, but I haven’t touched the fridge. The dining table is piled high. That huge box of trash is still precariously perched in my living room, with the printer–unopened still–underneath it. My head scarfs are spread everywhere. I plan to fold them and put them in the plastic bins in the kitchen. Plans, plans, plans! But I just can’t seem to DO anything!
So far, what have I done today besides get up and say my prayers? Well, I read and wrote from the Qur’an; and I did do a search (with a little straightening) for the journal with “Nana’s Stories.” And I was actually successful in finding it. But I haven’t turned on the computer today to write more of my book or to do Part 3 of my life (short version) for Palwasha, or to update “Nana’s Stories,” or to write in my spiritual blog. At first, I really did feel a great accomplishment in finding that journal, and I have to admit that I did write quite a bit last night. I wrote Part 2 for Palwasha, and also wrote for my book, about starting school. So maybe I am being too hard on myself. At least I did SOMETHING. It’s more than I’ve done in a while.
It’s just that I HATE this depression. I feel like I have no life. Today, I should go to Qur’an study and to the Saturday evening program, and tomorrow to the Reading Circle. I did read a bit of the book for the Circle; it’s good. But my eyes itch, my head (sinuses) varies on pressure every few minutes, it’s difficult to focus. I know that’s part of my depression–the inability to focus.
I asked the girls to go to dinner tomorrow night. I just got a message. That may be a response.
Please, God, help me to be kind to myself and not so critical. It only seems to make things worse. Sigh.

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About mairedubhtx

I am a "youngish" grandmother of 15 year old twin granddaughter who has recently (is a year "recent"?) adopted Islam as my way of life, much to the consternation of my family. I love to read. I love to write. I am writing a book about my decision to revert, about my spiritual journey. I have another blog about stories from my youth, my parents, and grandparents. It's a blog so my OCD daughter will not be able to throw it out when I die. I suffer from depression and anxiety, for which I am treated, so my posts may be a bit dark at times. C'est la vie.
This entry was posted in depression, granddaughters, normal life, reading, writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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