Due to the lack of motivation and the well of depression I've toppled into, I have been ignoring the growing pile of laundry accumulating under the sink in my bathroom. Finally, I decided to get out of bed while the world is quiet and get it all washed up at my own pace. It took two tote-loads full to bring it all downstairs, and after sorting, it looks like I've got twelve loads of laundry to do tonight.
Some would find this agitating, but I definitely did this to myself. In attempt to look at the bright side, I am viewing this night as more private healing time.
There is no one else to be found in the eerily quiet halls of my hotel, so I brought down a bunch of my things and sort of set up shop in the guest laundry room. I've got badger balms, a coloring book, colored pencils, and some cashews for snacks. Hopefully these things will help me to feel better soon.
But I do keep saying that, don't I? I know, I know. I just continue to hope that I do start feeling better. Unfortunately, it hasn't happened yet. I would love to pawn this off on the unknown or being unsure, but I know exactly why I feel this way. This job shouldn't last too much longer for my significant other, though. I am optimistic about the next move. I am sure it will take us somewhere that allows me to be more myself, happier than now.
On top of being desperately lonesome, I am almost certain that my mother having serious health issues far away from me isn't putting any ease on my mind. Oh, and it is nearly my father's birthday. I always do miss everything happening near home.
Well, as much as I want it to, the laundry won't wash itself. I will post another update soon.