Divide and conquer and take two of these and call me in the morning.

Somewhere along life’s path, I stopped doing my dishes. I’d never liked washing them anyway and at some point I just – didn’t. This would’ve been fine if they’d all been clean at the time but they were all dirty. All of them. I don’t want to say how long this went on. I’d wash what I needed at that moment and avoid looking at the rest. I’m sure it looked disgusting but I was too tired to worry about it. Every time I thought it was time to do the dishes, I’d look at that counter full of plates and bowls and utensils and pots and pans and jars and Gladware and I would get tired to my bones. I would feel heavy and dull and go lie down. Sometimes I’d get as far as rinsing out the worst offenders or even wash a sink’s worth of dishes but it was like moving a mountain with a toothpick. And so this went on…
Until last week. Last week I spread that counter of dishes and pans all across the kitchen: all the utensils together, all the glasses in one place. I stacked all the plates up and did the same with the bowls. (All the Gladware had long ago been banished to a huge plastic bin with a lid. I’m debating just throwing it all out.) Everything was sorted into its group and each group was set apart from its neighbor. Then I told myself that all I had to do was wash one group. Just one. Any one. But I had to start.

All the plates are done. I’m halfway through the glasses. I’ve been cleaning up whatever I’m using so I’m not just baling the water behind me and back into the boat, as it were. I still have a way to go but I’m confident I will get all those dishes washed.

What allowed me to do this? Drugs. Plain and simple. There’s nothing else to explain it. I’ve been organizing those dishes for a long time. I’ve been meaning to wash them for just as long. The only difference between last week and all the weeks before it is that the medication is finally doing what it’s supposed to on every level. I not only have the desire to wash the dishes, I have the energy, too.

And it’s not just the dishes. This week-end I ran errands and sorted (and pitched) much stuff and even managed to cook for myself a little. As with most errands, I’d forget something. But this time, instead of letting it go, I went back and got the item or made the necessary trip. This may seem mundane to you but for me it was a tad liberating: I had the energy to get done what I wanted to.

So here’s to drugs! Here’s to the medications that let me do what I want to do when I want to do it. Here’s to the liberating pharmaceuticals! May I always have access to them.