I forgot to do the one thing I was asked to before my parents went out. I can’t even get that right. I feel so lazy and useless. I just want to show that I do care, that I want to pull my weight, to show I love them and am grateful for what they do. Nothing seems to bring me joy anymore. I had one day where I tried my hardest and it felt amazing; I got so much housework done and finally felt like I was contributing. I feel so guilty for not contributing enough.
Why can’t that one day be my reality? Why do I find it so difficult to do the most basic tasks? Why do I do hopeless about the future, seemingly convinced that it will be constantly miserable? It feels like everything is broken and I’m being crushed under the weight of it all.
It’s been years since I harmed myself for the first time and only recently the urge has crept back into my life. That realisation scared me, it made me realise my mind really is getting worse. I haven’t thought about it, until now. Some days I feel apathetic to taking care of myself. I can go days without a proper shower because I know the OCD routine will eat up my time and I can’t face being stuck in the loop of “decontamination.”