My Home Is My Safe Place
It has taken some time for me to figure out how to “live” with mental illness. The anxiety and panic at times can be suffocating, overwhelming, and just plain difficult. Over the past couple of years I have slowly learned the more time I spend at home, the better I am.
Now when I plan my week most of the days are spent home, being “lazy” I suppose. I have days where I am active and rock at all my chores and might actually sing along with some music. Other days I can barely get up off the couch. The best part of being at home is I can be whatever I need to be to get through the day. I don’t have anyone here judging me or my mood, laughing when I’m silly, staring when I’m crying, or judging when I’m lazy. This is my safe place, and I am happy in my safe place!
I usually planÂ two days per week to handle any errands and doctor appointments. It has helped a lot in managing the anxiety attacks. I still hate wal-mart however, and still have a hard time going there alone!
So with all of this said, I think it is safe to assume that when outsiders come into my home it creates a little bit of chaos. I really don’t handle it well at all and I still haven’t figured out why. It’s a big mystery! Unless it’s close family I don’t do good at all.
Friday my husband informed me we’d be having some people over for the super bowl. *gasp* oh no! Yep, he didn’t even ask if I was okay with it or if I had a problem, he just informed me that we would be hosting. Oh my.
He promised I wouldn’t have to deal with the mess or the hosting, because he knows for a fact how I feel about hosting anything. That didn’t turn out well as I was stuck with clean up (while so anxious it was hard to breathe) and also stuck with morning after clean up and a mess of dishes and pots to wash. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate dishes? I avoid them like the plague. It’s just one of those things.
I was nice to my company and I welcomed them into my home but now, two days later, I am still a mess. This is my home and all of these people came into my bubble and violated my safe place. They were friends and I adore them, just not at my home.
Is that really so weird? I think there is something wrong with me!!
Safe home photo available from Shutterstock.
, B. (2012). My Home Is My Safe Place. Psych Central. Retrieved on September 3, 2015, from http://blogs.psychcentral.com/bipolar-mom/2012/02/my-home-is-my-safe-place/