Filth

My room is filthy. My apartment is filthy. I come home, every day, and I don't move... I don't leave the computer. I never clean. I often go without clothes in lieu of doing laundry. On some level, I recognize that I'm a deeply disturbed individual, but I don't know what to do about it. It's not like I don't see it; it's like I can't force myself to focus on it, like it's too horrifying... like I don't know where to begin! My living room literaly looks like a landfill. There is a mountain of trash that sometimes avalanches down over my legs when I toss a new piece of garbage onto the top because I don't ever take things out to the trash. I don't have guests over. I just don't... leave. 

I don't know why. I don't know what it is or what's wrong with me or why I feel so unmotivated. I have dealt with depression off and on throughout my life but this doesn't feel like it's connected, as weird as that is to say. It's like I can't be bothered to get up, to move, to do anything. I smile and laugh, I have a good time, I have things I look forward to... so I can't still be depressed, can I?

I hate going outside. I know that much. If I wasn't such a pig I'd be starving by now; as it is I go out for food. I stare at the ground. I'm petrified whenever there are other people around; a bunch of kids playing in the parking lot of the corner store is enough to keep me from going out even where the act of going out itself is not. I prefer going out at night, when it's dark, or when it's raining; I love the rain. It's not like anybody ever bothers me in my apartment; in the four years I've been here I've had two or three unexpected knocks. 

Money is a problem. Relationships are a problem anyway; always were, before this all started. I think at some point I finally decided I'd had enough, and just stopped caring about anything in my life. Except on some level I haven't, so the resentment, the anger, and the frustration... they simmer. I don't have a lot of friends, locally. I don't really have any hobbies or outlets, and I can't afford much. I'm in my thirties now, and I'm feeling like I'm at my wits' end. I feel like something has to change, and that it's definitely a part of me, but I don't know what to change, or how. I don't know how to BE any different. I don't know how to force myself to care about things that I don't care about. 

I hate living like this, I really do. I just... need to stand up and start putting trash in bags. I've actually gotten bags on several occasions. I've got quite the supply now... but the thought flashes through my head like a film reel of somebody else's life. I don't know how to not be like this, as crazy as that sounds.

User Comments
Anon-1

It almost sounds like this weirdly directed depression or anxiety, like... instead of being miserable, or shaking when people look at you, you just kinda... disappear and stop existing when you're in your safe place. I don't know what else to say; I want you to know you're in my thoughts though. You might live in filth, but you AREN'T filth. You should really speak to a therapist or a counselor, and see if they can't help you come up with some viable strategies that work for you as far as dealing with this is concerned. 

Anon-2

Clean up your act. I mean that in the kindest, most supportive way. Clean it up, though... all of it. You're mired in something... self-pity, depression, anxiety, something... and it's being reflected in how you approach "life, the universe, and everything." Not trying to be tough or demanding here, just saying... if you get that under control you will feel SO much better!

Anon-3

I'm a hoarder. It's not quite the same thing; I think I'm more organized than you, but I mean... I've got empty soda bottles and old newspapers from five years ago. Neatly organized, but still... it's just neatly organized garbage. The stuff is holding me back, I can feel it. I can't relate specifically to what's going on with you, but maybe you're in the same boat? In which case I wish you the absolute best of luck. I hope we're both able to get out of this habit soon; I wasn't always "this way" either!