I'm somewhat isolated already, I know. My family is pretty darn unique (statistically it's pretty incredibly so, right?), our lifestyle unusual in the general USA, and then there's me. I get depressed regularly, I'm caught up in our family craziness, my brain has never been the same since Addie was born (I can never come up with words, and some depth that used to be in my brain just doesn't seem to be there any more; it's not getting worse, it's just never gotten better). I don't like to be in groups, I don't like crowds, I don't socialize well, I don't do small talk, I'm not warm and fuzzy, I'm not communicative. Now, in addition, I'm really having trouble with night time driving, and night time here in the mid-Atlantic comes at 5 pm throughout the winter months. I just can't see well and I'm very uncomfortable with it.
Now, I know that I am inherently lazy, and that this is my greatest problem in life, but all of this makes it that much more easy for me to always justify my laziness and rationalize it. I've been working for the last few years more on getting a little more easy-going, learning to take a deep breath when things go crazy, much more than I've worked on my motivation and willingness to take action.
Now I'm at an impasse. I know I'm terribly lazy and don't do what I need to do. So much doesn't get done. Cleaning, caring for the kids, taking care of details, I never do enough of any of those. I really wish a lot of the time I could just fine "the ultimate book," the one I could read and read and never tire of and read again, and just lock myself up somewhere and be left to read it indefinitely. That's obviously fiction (ha!), but it's a way of conveying my ideal. I can't kick the laziness of my lifestyle, and the craving for isolation feeds my laziness or at least my lack of action to get anything done. Just call me sloth.