Motivational problem

Here i am, upstairs in the cottage on a winter day, with the space heater on hi next to my old fashioned wing chair. one cat on the bed beside me and the other underneath it: Tanner and Travis. They are constantly fighting over the attention they get from me and so it is now.

But right now i an preoccupied with myself; as i am so much of the time. I am remembering endless hours talking to my mother, when i was in high school, about my motivational problem. She wasnt really able to help; but at least she talked to me. Just now it really clicked. In recent years i have said that that problem us very real and that it is the result of a bad nerve in my private area from being kneed in tbe crotch by ny brother when i was a little girl. Well just now i experienced a striking example of that. My guiding voices told me to get up off the couch and make a cup of tea. That sounds delightful, right? Well. It wasnt the worst thing ive had to do this week; but i was conscious of having to drag myself up off the couch and if anxiety and i was specifically conscious of pain and discomfort in my female area. Then i noticed that there were dishes sitting the sink that had been sitting there for about a month. I started washing them while the kettle was boiling. And made my tea and continued washing the worst of them and then finished my tea and scrubbed and bleached the whole area. Its a 300 year old sink; im not really sure whether im supposed to use bleach on it but it was badly stained. My mother is not going to be happy. And then i was thinking, this is like my whole life. I get in trouke for doing, or not doing, things, because of my disability, and no understanding for the disability. And then i have to work twice to maje it right and dont get any credit for trying in the first place.

My mother has had this beef with me all her life that im a problem for her and gets sympathy all over the place for putting up with me for being a daft child when all along i had a very serious disability that got no attention. My father steps in, to stop her from killing me. Si i get a reputation as a spoiled brat.

So i got the sink all cleared out and all the dirty dishes washed and now i am back in latent mode on the chair upstairs and my strange motivational “way” has won the day for me for a time, as it does, these days: until the next time. Those dishes needed washing!

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