32 years later, I still don’t “get” me.
I love people, and helping people, and anything I do that will benefit someone else gets done really well; but when it comes to something for me, forget it! I can cook, and I suspect the only reason I do that well, is that Like it or not, I have to eat.
Before I continue here, let me state, I’m certain I’m not depressed.
My home is a bombsite. It’s only truly tidy when someone’s coming to visit and returns to it’s bombsite status within a week.
My garden? well, apart from when I sit in it in summer, it’s an overgrown weedpatch, and even in summer the barest miminium gets done.
Am I an oddity, or do other people feel this way too? I’m just thoroughly confused as to how I can work myself to the bone caring for people and yet not be able to do things that mean I’m caring for me.
Got to go to work now, but this has been pestering at me all weekend. I want to understand myself a bit better, do things that will benefit me and not just because someone else needs it done.