Once upon a time, I thought of "hitting rock-bottom" as a one-time thing. And always "extreme." Things like landing in jail, practically dying, causing a fatal or near-fatal accident.
Now that I’m older, I understand that for people like me, there are lots of rock bottoms. Little ones.
This weekend, I hit another one of mine. And honestly? It sort of knocked the wind out of me. I quit — productively — writing for five days. I basically gave myself some time to clean up my mess and… think.
When you suffer from depression, there’s this natural tendency to hide how bad it can really be. It’s such a deeply humiliating and shameful feeling when people find out how much I’ve “let myself go,” or how I’ve really been struggling with certain “impossible tasks” like housework.
I feel this is extra layered for single mothers. There are already so many unreasonable expectations of mothers in general that if you’re a single working one, it’s not surprising to find yourself fighting just to keep up with a few essentials. Like, waking up each morning to do the bare minimum and ensure that nobody dies or is needlessly traumatised.
Watch: Things mums never hear. Post continues below.
To hold onto a semblance of sanity, we might talk about it. I’ve written several pieces about my struggle to get clean or stay clean at home. And like a lot of other people with autism, I tend to struggle with things like housework due to the seemingly endless decisions that go along with it.
What’s the best place for this, what’s the most effective cleaner for that — I can give myself decision fatigue long before I get much done. Which, in time, turns into a physical fatigue.
Nothing about 2020 has made this struggle any easier. I quit paying for housekeeping help and my daughter and I began spending all of our time at home in March.