My House

My house is a mess. I don't mean that jokingly. I don't mean that self-deprecatingly like these women with clean houses who bleat "Oh my house is a mess!"
It is close to being a fire hazard kind of mess. And I am so ashamed.
I don't like people to come in. I don't like to open the door. It's a peculiar isolation, the shame of a filthy house. My husband is disgusted with it. I don't blame him.
I feel powerless. Yes, "clean it" is the obvious solution. I just don't have it upstairs to maintain the house, myself or my life. Sometimes I just don't want to be alive. I feel so overwhelmed by it all.
I am afraid alot. I screw up alot. I just don't know how I can go on like this.