this post was submitted on 27 May 2026
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Growing up my house was always trashed. Parents with depression and full time jobs don't leave much time and energy for cleaning up, and there's only so much children without guidance can do.
So once I had my own defined space, it was basically minimalist to expedite cleaning. I didn't start getting more stuff, even clothes, until my partner moved in.
Me growing up, it wasn't quite that bad for myself, but some of my neighbors were from... way more fucked up families.
They had basically this exact same 'Wow.' moment, just... coming over, and seeing that... order was possible, things could be put basically back in place after use, etc.
They had no previous concept of it.
I remember going over to one of their houses once and literally stepping in dogshit, inside.
They just... forgot to let the dog out, I guess. Regularly enough that this was annoying but basically normal.
Depression is a bitch, and that makes you not want to clean. Then the grossness makes you more depressed.
Never ending loop.
I know.
I've been there.
I did eventually get better... but... it really really sucks.