"I have a good life, why do I hate it so much?"

This was uttered in the kitchen on Monday night while I was trying to decide what to do with the rice that I had just boiled.

I have been off of all chemical stablizers since November and it is becoming harder each day. Concentration is something I have vague recollections about, the ability to make decisions another, it took me two hours to decide what I was going to do with that rice...four hours to prepare a 2 course meal! Yesterday I had to let someone else choose what meat to eat with my lunch, being confronted with all those choices (all of four) was a bit overwhelming, thank god he was there or that lady would still be waiting for my decision.

I can't keep still for very long but at least I could sleep, insomnia was only ever a problem after my operation. I am blessed with all sorts of energy that keeps me fidgetty and on the move all day, this energy then dissipates fairly abruptly at which point I crash. The mere fact that I am energized, fidgetty and on the move however, does not make for productivity, to be productive you actually have to spend a little more than one minute on a task, I was going to say two but that would have been an overly optimistic view of my ability.

For reasons unknown I rationalise *cough* that the simple act of preparing a meal and thus feeding my family makes me a better person/wife/mother. I am sure that when I have those Stepford moments that that logic makes sense but afterwards it makes me want to scratch my head and go "huh?" Well at least they are getting fed and enjoying it.

Okay three hours later and this is as far as I've gotten...maybe later?