Help, My Motivation Is Drowning or My Mind Is Cracking

I feel like I have a bit of a split personality right now.  When I am in my room, surrounded with unopened bills and receipts that need to be accounted for and filed, and generally a giant pile of mess and responsibility and loathsome paperwork, I find myself shutting down mentally.  And so I will wander out to the kitchen and then perhaps look at my message board where I left myself a long list of additional to-dos and I might snack on something, lately cereal or toast.  Then perhaps I'll see someone and start talking to them and the conversation will soon steer towards things I must do, or worse, they'll talk about doing things that I could do to distract myself like watching a movie.  

When at last I resign myself to working, and return to my cursed room and turn on my computer.  I try to console myself that at least I can listen to some music while I work but then I turn on itunes and remember, itunes is a wretched piece of computer-programmed accomplishment bent on malevolence and frustration, and ultimately depression.  And as I continue to try to do anything on my iMac I'm reminded again and again and again why I hate these rotten filthy vile contraptions of evil and disfunction.  It laughs at how it fooled me into buying it.  I weakly respond that I'll just use it for garageband and keep telling myself that I didn't want it for anything else anyway.  Then it just mocks me for not having enough time for garageband or any motivation to touch it even if I did.  It's lucky it cost so much or I'd smash the mouthy vermin.  

Then I run away from home and in my car I pray or listen to music and think about how lucky I am to be living with friends in such opulence.  And I begin to hear Jesus.  And his Holy Spirit gets excited he's so in love with my friends as they tell me stories of late.  And God's doing things around me, and I get swept away and dizzy in his plans and enthusiasm.  

Life starts to look beautiful again.  Prayer gives me that life.  And there's been plenty of it.  

I went to a concert and it was incredible.  Thrice is amazing.  The calibre of their music is top; the depths of meaning behind it wonderful; its execution masterful.  They are true and grand artists.  

And I want to curl up into a ball and rock myself to sleep except I'd feel silly so I have to wait until I'm tired or longer yet to escape.  And I speak of beauty and it overwhelms me, but then I am finished and the darkness overtakes me.  

And a great many friends have offered assistance, but right now they can't unless they want to become my secretary.  And I realize I am alone with a hundred objects of horror.  Usually I can conquer them but normally they come in twos or threes.  

I like paper so much better as trees.  

I like days so much better without chains.  

I prefer to escape to activity.  But even when I ski, it feels guilty.  Oh how I love it, and how I wish I did this all day instead of what I do, but wait, what a piece of nonsense.  I want to expend energy all day without working?  What kind of fool am I, and where do I live that I can even compose such kinds of selfish thinking?

And it's fake anyway.  I'm only deluding myself into thinking I could do it all day.  I would get bored and tired oh so quickly.  

And I read all the way through a wedding planning book, and actually started to picture things I could do creatively, but then I have to explain and share it and realize with shock and dismay that these are just more piles of work for me disguised as fanciful notions.  I should have guessed, I should have known.  Like everything else, I can only come up with ideals and dreams and pretty pictures.  All of them, every last one takes time and money and effort and training and fatal isolation.  Did you know weddings used to be community potluck affairs?  You don't need two years worth of dreadful planning and expenses for those, just full-scale productions of events originally designed to showcase wealth.  

But I can't write this, or Sherry would read it and feel awful, and she keeps telling me she loves me for looking after everything.  

Maybe I'll go clean the bathroom now.  

[addition 1]Or maybe not, because I wanted to listen to angry music and not try and brighten myself.  Instead I read Faye's blogs and almost cried reading Val's response for one, and read Sherry's.  

[addition 2]Ah yes, I am feeling rather drained and burnt out, so I decided to hide in headphones and SenseField's Living Outside album while I cleaned.  Community Houses are brilliant inventions.  It's hard to allow stupid things to bother you, like the irrational claustrophobia of having everyone in the house showering in "your" bathroom, whilst they love you all the time by chatting with you and cooking dinner and picking up garbage bags when we run out and hanging your laundry for you.  Yes there are a lot of things that might pile up on you with housework alone, but living with friends makes it survivable, not to mention enjoyable.  

I did get the call from Kyle and no we don't have any work, nor will we until possibly Thursday, more likely Friday or Monday.  So I should go ahead and see if I can work for Trent for a week.  And although I am sorely sorely tempted not to work this week, as a sort of stress leave, a couple things suggest I should.  One is that basically I've been doing that already for the last two weeks and I effectively lose $200/day.  Two is that it hasn't actually been as helpful as I would anticipate for getting things done.  Three is that we have less money than I thought and I can't afford to keep pretending I can afford it.