Sunday, December 23, 2012

Sometimes my breath is incentive enough to get out of bed.

I have a confession to make - I'm a bit of a manic clean freak; HOWEVER, there are days when I can even gross myself out.  Friends and family reading this blog will probably laugh as they consider "these" days to mean a few shoes scattered about the floor or piles of laundry waiting for me on the washing machine.  Giggle as you may dear ones, this is not how I see it at all.  I tend to stare deeply into corners on "these" days and notice greasy dirt clinging to baseboards which haven't seen a cleaning rag since August 11, 2006 (the day the Potts' family moved into our home).  These are the moments I head directly for my antibacterial spray, cotton swabs, and ignore phone calls until the crime scene has been obliterated. 

Unfortunately, for bi-polar gals such as myself, while I'm focused on destroying the first offender, my eyes will dart to the right and catch sight of a cobweb on my silk tree in the corner.  No, NO, NOOOO!  I must hose off the tree immediately.  Down go the cotton swabs, out goes the silk tree into the backyard.  Does it matter that it's 30 degrees?  Absolutely not.  The tree is filthy, it must be washed down.  As I pull out the hose, I'll step in dog poop and then see far too many dog poops laying about.  They must be picked up!  DISGUSTING!  Oh, and my outside coffee table is dirty and must be wiped down.  Who cares if it's going to snow the next afternoon?  This is exactly how my days go.  By the time Eric gets home from work, everything I've started is half completed and I find myself overwhelmed and exhausted.

This is when the other side of my bi-polar - depression - kicks in.  My projects remain scattered all over the house and I'll feel like a complete failure. I don't want to cook dinner (seriously, what's the point?  I'll burn it anyway) and then I'll retreat into my bed for three or more days.  Bi-polar is a bitch.  This is my story.  I know I'm making a joke out of it but it's not a funny situation.

There was a reason I started this long and tedious explanation of my mood disorder.  Patience, my friends, patience... 

My manic cleanliness also extends to my personal hygiene.  I'm a bath girl.  I must take a bath every day; however, when the "deep dark" creeps over me and I'm hiding from the world beneath layers of blankets, I forget all about my "need for clean" (so to speak).  I want the world to go away and if this means someone shoves a bed pan under my ass and clamps an intravenous protein line into my vein, terrific.  When I'm at this point, it's best to just spray a bottle of air freshener overhead and pray my breath induces me out of my own personal nightmare.

Today - right now - I'm good; in other words, I'm not suffering from a manic mood shift.  I'm straight down the middle.  My current conundrum is that my "need for clean" is being impeded by my broken ankle.  The dust bunnies in the hallway are scoffing at me from my crutches.  It's also difficult to take baths.  I have to take...GOD FORBID...showers and even then, I need assistance.  If this continues much longer I fear I'll spiral into an unimaginable manic cleaning frenzy once I'm off these damn things which will - in turn - develop into a depression far worse than I've ever experienced.  I wonder if Febreze sells air deodorizer in bulk?