closed house

When I looked at all that I've written, it is a small miracle that I didn't go insane during some of those years.  But the years in between?  Well, I took a sabbatical, as it were, from feeling good about myself, from having friends, from interacting with others.  I'm now the closest to hermit I've ever been and becoming more and more the introvert.  I quit during a peculiar time, too.  I was writing so much more.  Reading, too.  But I quit and decided to let work overshadow everything else.  Curt was probably laid off during that time. I had been in limbo myself, searching for a job.  Things were very fuzzy and unstable.  But, now that I have the stability, I have no energy.  My creative buzz has been killed for quite a few years.  I think I know why.  I became pretty disillusioned with art.  I tried to tell myself I could do other things and lift myself out of this place.  But that did not happen.  Then we were hit with two very difficult winters, back to back.  That put me over the edge and the scales.  I quit taking care of myself during that first winter and the struggle to get back on track has been tough.  Not ONLY that, but the house is in disarray due to my constant internal upheaval.  I don't know how to tame this space to be the best space for us.  And I also don't know how to fix a lot of the things that would make life easier.  Such is life.  The house.  The weight.  The hiding.  It all coalesces into life being pain.  We are so tired.  Friends can't come to call.  I don't want my insanity in plain view.  But there has to be a break through, right?  Things can't remain the same.  I have to bust outta this box, so to speak.  I have to get things moving.