social anxiety – Page 2 – life with interest

Alone.

April 23, 2020April 23, 2020by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

I think everyone understands now a little of what I’ve felt through my life. This sense of social isolation. Of the world around you existing and yet there you are, miles away from it, despite it all going on right there in front of you.

I’m trying to get over the loneliness I’ve always felt. I’m not sure the kinds of connections I crave are at all realistic. Those deep, intimate connections where you can be authentically you down to the feelings that don’t make sense in spoken form, but they’re true nonetheless. Those emotions that can only be communicated in art because they exist between sounds and sometimes not in brushstrokes but in the white space. In the way one’s body curves while dancing or otherwise embracing.

And only people who feel this deeply understand it. This perpetual loneliness. Burnt out by social interaction yet craving company as when our only company is our own mind we can get lost in it, tangled in our thoughts. In our childhood rooms wondering what is it that the rest of the world knows that we don’t. How does happiness seem so simple for some, yet so elusive for others?

And—why does knowing people still feel like not knowing them at all? Why is it I long to understand the inner workings of a few, very few select people whose minds are museums of every possible emotion layered with ever-growing curiosities kept safe in permanent collection.

I stand across the street from said museum and study its Corinthian columns. Protective and strong. My mind wanders inside, exploring its many floors and exhibits. The surrealism. Modern art. Photography and film. History and bones. The living and the once lived and the might live one day. The never lived but more alive than anything that ever has. The science and stories and symphony of the stars.

Perhaps it’s just I am void of my own intrigue. My memory nonexistent I am not fact but fiction. I exist in the moment deep in my gut. I exist in a thousand possibilities of the future and regrets of the past. The loneliness hangs there, iced with the blue green flame of well below frozen. In the clay that I am seeking to take form, awaiting sculptors to knead me. To bake me in their kilns to harden me into the form of their liking. To submit to sculptor. To be hardened to further fragility, yet safe, trusting, saddened by sentient solitude no more.

Politics, Etc.

It’s all going to be ok. Right?

March 22, 2020March 22, 2020by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

People who do not have anxiety disorders may understand a smidgen of similar panic these days—that deep sense of dread that no matter how hard you try and plan you just are not in control of anything in this rabid little big giant world of ours.

I know I ought to stop reading the news, devouring every qualitative and quantitative data point about this virus. I hadn’t spent a single minute becoming the world’s expert on the flu or other causes of death at scale so why do I find it so impossible to look away from the many articles about infection spreading across the world?

Maybe it’s the tightness in my chest that hasn’t fully dissipated for two weeks despite a full course of strong antibiotics. Maybe it’s knowing that many of my loved ones—my mother, in-laws, and grandmother—are in the at risk category which means things could get very scary if any of them got infected. Given worst-case projections that 75% of us many get sick it’s hard to not worry.

There is also a chance this will all blow over fairly quickly. Maybe the rates of death are much lower here than they have been in other countries. Maybe medicine will soon keep the worst of the disease at bay. It doesn’t help much to be a pessimist, though I wonder how much it helps to be a realist in this situation. I mean, it is important to take necessary precautions and isolate, but beyond that what can we do? How panicked do we want to be?

I don’t understand those who don’t feel the heavy weight of anxiety right now, but I envy them. Those who are in the what will be will be camp seem to accept this may get pretty ugly, but they aren’t particularly worried about it. Then there is the camp that thinks the entire situation is being hypersensationalized. That the media is playing up our fears when the data is not yet available to get an accurate analysis on what is really going on. That this is all not worth shutting down our economy over, despite acknowledging that some people will die from this who weren’t otherwise ready to meet their proverbial maker.

But it’s challenging to pretend everything is business as usual when it so clearly isn’t. Ignore the news—fine. Don’t engage in conversation and social media chatter about hospitals becoming overwhelmed and people of all ages becoming critically ill and unable to breathe. Got it. I just don’t know how to tune out how dramatically life has changed, in an instant. How we can no longer see our friends, or anyone really. We go for walks and sprint to the other side of the street when anyone heads our direction. We do not have a moment to look a stranger in the eye and exchange a friendly silent hello or an awkward accidental glance in anyone’s direction.

Two weeks of this is certainly survivable. It may be longer than that. How long? So many think it won’t be long at all. It doesn’t make sense for this to be a month or two and then we return to normal. To defeat this thing it seems we must accept it will seriously disrupt our lives for quite some time. Months? Years? Certainly not weeks.

There are positives to the isolation as well. It forces us to return to simplicity, in solitude or with our close family. We cannot go out to be entertained, we must entertain ourselves (or at least cozy up on the couch while watching Netflix.) It provides pause to a modern life that sprints ahead with no retrieve, and gives us the opportunity to think, create, and, if we can quiet our minds enough, sleep. So I’m trying, I’m really trying, to focus on the positive and not expect the worst. The focus is to keep loved ones safe, keep ourselves safe, and take everything one day at a time.

Isn’t that what the non anxious folks do?

Mental Health

When the quiet comes.

February 23, 2020by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

When you’re you but you aren’t you, your mind racing and all the world alive with possibility and excitement and shouldn’t but should, you feel whole yet like a thousand pieces of you flipped inside out and upside down and stuck themselves back together to be whoever it is you are in that moment, electrified. Days, weeks, months later you look back at it and wonder who that was.

When the quiet comes it’s as if you’ve been running, running, running and then all the sudden everything is still–still–still. There is no more motor running, your boat is just there splashing about, barely staying afloat, ignorant of how it already is filling with water, preparing to sink deep into the dark blue of the depressed sea.

When the quiet comes, you wonder who you are if who you were wasn’t her and who you feel like today may be no more her than who you were then or who you will be tomorrow. It’s not as if you are multiple people, you’re you but you’re not you you are you on fire and you unable to move and you basically functioning and you embarrassed by all the things you said when you were you but you weren’t you.

When the quiet comes, you express your gratitude for not crash breaking the fragile state of stability that you’ve grown to love and need and take for granted. You wish you could take back so many things but you can’t and so you decide it’s best to move on and try to pretend you were never that, then. You invest in your health and trying to get into a routine and trying to socialize and be yourself but not too much of yourself that you scare off the people you’d like to get to know.

When the quiet comes, it is satisfying to throw out the trash that has been piling up and go for long walks under hazy blue skies and lie in grass and let sunlight sink into your skin. To be the mother that you are and the wife that you’ve been and the employee that you want to be. You can think straight for once in so long and try to pull all the pieces back together that fell apart in their hopeless exhaustion and manic mood melodies up and down and up and up and up and down again you went, but now, the quiet is here, for now, and so you embrace it, you cautiously cradle the calm.

Mental Health

Restraint.

January 13, 2020by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

Inside our skulls we are wired for pleasure. Robotically we seek out these highs which do their best to ensure both our survival and the survival of our species.

But, what if we can actively retrain our minds to no longer seek pleasure?

This is a central theme to my 2020 and my immediate consolidation of all of my resolutions—pleasure, in its simplest form (all and any comparable to ingesting refined sugar) is hereby and as of 1/1/20 banned from my existence. Dopamine and serotonin will no longer control me. I will have as much free will as a human can have, and that starts by releasing oneself from the chemical desire for a momentary high of any sort.

Some who I have shared this idea with have said this seems unhealthy (everything in moderation my dear) but as I’ve learned with intermittent fasting and a strict 1400 calorie diet with 1-2 high calorie days a week followed by a restricted 500 calorie day, I have the ability to retrain my mind (and quickly) to no longer seek the quick and empty pleasure of a morning muffin or secretly eating a dozen candy bars because they simply exist.

In removing simple pleasure, all that refined sugar, from my existence, I can retrain myself to experience pleasure from subtlety and perhaps heal my addiction to it and replace it with something far more productive and positive.

For example, when you stop eating refined sugar, the natural sweetness of vegetables is much more noticeable on the tongue. We need to eat but we do not need ice cream or chocolate bars or muffins to survive. And, by removing quick highs from our palate, we can eventually taste so much more.

I am applying this to my entire life this year. Yes, it is a drastic shift, but it is much needed. This will help me stabilize this year, simplify and repattern my values. Pleasure is a vice and one worth experiencing but not necessary to repeat or desire. It sounds very Buddhist of me, I guess, but I’m not here to be one with the world. I’m here to teach my mind and the chemicals therein that they do not own my actions. They’ve had 36 years to prove themselves worthy of this power and have only led me into the darkness. In taking away that power, I am here, ready to lead myself into the light.

Mental Health

It would be nice.

January 9, 2020by Life With Interest2 Comments

There are people in this world who do not feel like they are walking on a fragile tightrope everyday, always on the verge of disintegrating beneath their slippery feet. It would be nice to know what that’s like.

It is difficult to be simultaneously grateful for all the wonderful everything that is my life and terrified of losing it all–knowing how easy it is to fall. I can’t imagine feeling confident enough to live life without worrying every single day–to be able to commit to something like a mortgage and not be one failure away from losing everything.

Maybe there’s a life out there where I don’ have to live in a constant state of panic. Maybe it’s the life I live today with a much more positive outlook and repatterning the way I think. There has to be a better way. Mentally, I’m sick, and physically, well, I’m certainly not healthy. I’m committed to fixing all of this in 2020 and yet here I am, eight days into it, and unsure how, and falling back into making the same mistakes. It’s not only embarrassing, it’s frustrating to feel so out of control when all I want is to be in control.

It’s that death spiral I know so well. Down, down I go, accepting my fate without it being necessary. Being sucked into a whirlpool of catastrophe that isn’t even there and kicking harder than anyone would ever know just to stay afloat. The tragic thing is that I fail to, at a bare minimum, be a likable person. The few people who give me a chance give up on me eventually and again I’m alone to pick myself up from the bottom of the ocean, drifting in the dark, my flesh scraping against the forgotten sand.

It all needs to stop. It needs to start being sustainable and routine and productive and stable. It can’t be a life trying to stay afloat in a whirlpool and swirling and swirling and swirling until I’m so dizzy I can’t think straight and my actions are the result of confusion and fear and a deep self hatred that stems from the earliest days I can remember, when I learned that I’d never be good enough. That I was broken and annoying and needed to stop being so sensitive and hyper and sad and scared.

How much have I really changed these last 36 years on this earth? Not much. But maybe I can change over the next 36. I have to keep the hope alive that I can. It seems like it should be possible with the right tools and tricks. The appropriate guidance and people who understand that I don’t mean what I say or do sometimes and I regret it immediately and I’m working every day on being a little bit better until I’m acceptable. I have to believe that somehow I can get there.

Random Musings

20 2020 Resolutions.

January 1, 2020January 1, 2020by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

Fast between 8pm and 12pm 6 days a week
Eat 1600 calories per day 7x a week
Eat a pescatarian diet w/ limited dairy
Exercise at least 30 min 5x a week
Hide my personality and thoughts (75% less talking)
Spend 8am-2pm every Sat and 7-8pm weeknights 1×1 w/ my son
If drinking alcohol, limit to 2 drinks per occasion
Have clothes planned for week on Sun night
Move to a 2 bedroom apartment
Be the best employee I can be
Go to sleep by 10pm every night
Get rid of everything I do not need
Increase networth by 25%+
Lose 40-60lbs
Learn to play basic piano chords
Keep my car clean / organized
Significantly reduce my use of social media
Do not socialize with people outside of necessary interaction
Learn how to be happy/content/not bored on my own
Try a new restaurant (date night!) 1x a month w/ my husband

Random Musings

Spilled.

December 31, 2019by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

If it was the cancer, I’d be devastated, still, but not living with this dripping open wound. When someone is so stubborn, it’s nearly impossible to change their behavior. Maybe entirely impossible. But still, his cause of death does not sit right with my heart, and it certainly didn’t sit right with his.

With a pacemaker put in just a week or so prior, and a box not set up properly by the rehab home that was supposed to notify the hospital in case of any problems, and a man alone with no one to help him, screaming deliriously into the night. How fast did they go to him? What happened in his last hours? He called my mother and told her how frightened he was, they were taking him on a ship. She told him to go to sleep, he was just having a bad dream. It wasn’t a bad dream. It was the worst dream. The end dream.

In my own deliriousness just a week after having my son and pumping all hours night and day to keep my milk supply alive I received a call at midnight—a few moments after going to sleep for my needed hour—that my father was dead.

All the calls and trying to coordinate doctors and convince him to accept treatment when he wasn’t in the right state of mind and beg him to eat a god damn banana to increase his potassium levels were useless or maybe caused more harm than good. I was the one who recommended the rehab by his mother’s home—I should have instead pushed for one closest to a hospital.

And yet rehab was a joke in that he was not being rehabilitated. His heart was failing. He couldn’t stand up without his blood pressure dropping to dangerous levels. I couldn’t go see him in my third trimester. I knew the end was near but did not think it was quite so near as his cancer was not spreading so fast and maybe we at least had a few months left—some time to say goodbye.

He pushed himself too hard in physical therapy to stand and no one stopped him. The last video of him my mother sent was him standing and smiling and taking a few steps. He thought he was getting better. Getting out. Maybe that’s a good thing. But if he hadn’t pushed himself so hard that day… if it wasn’t a Friday and then the weekend with less staff… if the rehab wasn’t in the middle of a big move to an entirely new building distracting the workers from their other duties… if we pushed to figure out how to get him seen by a specialist even though insurance wouldn’t cover medical transport and he couldn’t sit up… if we had yelled at the specialists to see him now not in a month and yes we know they are busy but this is an emergency… if we listened to him about not trusting the doctor at the rehab who was changing his blood pressure mediations… if he ever had a primary care doctor instead of only cancer specialists… if only healthcare wasn’t so disjointed and managed as if our bodies were one connected system instead of parts to be managed by specialists who don’t speak to each other… if only doctors at hospitals who changed out on shifts understood what the doctor on the prior shift said or recommended. It only there was some consistency and sanity in all of it.

He was a very sick, dying man. No one would question that. In his delirium his worst cake out—and the nurses and doctors did their jobs as they do, but their empathy if they had any drained with their patience. But after all of that… from the first day in the hospital in June until his passing in August and my body aching with third trimester pains and heart aching wondering if I’d ever see him again and if he’d ever meet his grandchild then breaking when I was told at midnight that horrible night that he never would… I’m a mess of a human. Crippled, more than before. It’s not like I had such a perfect relationship with my father, but I felt a responsibility to him, to hear him, to help him, to ensure he had the most peaceful death possible when it had to happen, and I achieved none of that.

Some nights he shows up in my dreams. I don’t believe in an afterlife, they are just dreams. But still, they are so real. He is there with my son and they are so happy together. And then I wake up and I remember reality. My mind slips to imaging his corpse, nearly two years buried, and the moment at his funeral I saw him dead, though I shouldn’t have, as it isn’t something Jews do, but my mother had to identify the body and my non Jewish aunt recommended I put something of my sons in his casket to bury him with. So I put the frog hat that I took my son home from the hospital in on his shoulder and looked at him dead for a few seconds but those seconds etched themselves into my mind for a lifetime and I see them each time I awake from these all-too-frequent dreams.

But death impacts all of us and we all lose our parents sooner or later. And other loved ones. And ourselves. So I try to lift myself out of this broken state and use it to fuel a drive to make the most out of every moment. I’m trying. But failing. Maybe now, nearly a year and a half later, I’m starting to truly dig out of it. To accept he’s really not coming back. That time is never enough. That memories fade no matter how hard you try to cling to them. And no matter what freezes your heart, life moves on, cold and emotionless. It doesn’t wait for you or anyone.

Mental Health

Drift.

December 20, 2019December 20, 2019by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

Grab the wheel tight, though all control is long gone. Since the day your eyes first were introduced to light and the world appeared before you with all its people alien to you from the start. And now, at 36, you’ve accepted, or try to accept, that you will never find a path to feeling like part of it all—you won’t just grow out of not knowing how to relate to or respond to others. This is you at your unenviable core. You will not change. Your best bet is to numb. Medicate.

You are drifting yet again. Floating on some field hockey table as a particular puck being slammed against everything. Life moves so fast, especially now, it’s hard to catch a breath. And the hunger to be seen and understood grows with each passing year as the potential to be part of the surrounding world diminishes rapidly.

My value is questionable. I exist to exist. I offend, shock, but rarely awe. I am a mother and that should be enough. Even as a mother there is the shame of not doing enough, not connecting enough, not sending thank you or holiday cards enough.

And I cherish my friends but am a horrible one. I come up with all these ideas and plans that I fail to see through—and I don’t know why other than self diagnosing beyond the depression that every psychologist assures me, along with anxiety, is “all” that I have.

Is it the mood instability or is it the craving to feel connected and consistent which causes all of the instability? Does it even matter anymore?

I am never right or in the right. This is where I disintegrate into myself. I throw my mind at the wind towards anyone who might understand and relieve me from all of this, but it is something I must do on my own. For a person as absurd as myself the only means of survival seems to be slipping deeper inside myself, fighting every thought with rethought, with a giant grin plastered across my face so no one notices. Pure survival mode for now and maybe forever until the end of it. Because no one has time to care about or deal with a 36 year old woman who is so utterly lost she barely can find her own breath.

This is not just being over dramatic or immature or what have you. Look at my words and actions and awkwardness and how I fail daily to come across as an acceptable specimen of acceptable humanity. If I stop talking I am saying too little but if I start it’s only a matter of time (count the seconds) before I say something regrettable, blurt it out and grasp at the vibrations of voice wishing I could swallow them back. The shame of merely existing becomes far too great sometimes.

There lies the conundrum of why or why bother but there is plenty of it in motherhood and the alternate unanswerable question of why not? This is all a big game where every single one of us loses in the end, but I guess it’s still worth playing to pass the time.—if only its chutes and ladders weren’t so isolating and rough.

Mental Health

Undoing.

December 17, 2019December 17, 2019by Life With InterestLeave a Comment

Where I am right now, finally, I guess, is willing to accept that childhood trauma can and does impact the brain in ways that are chemical and physical. I’m talking to a new online therapist who has a history working with those who have far worse trauma then I’ve ever experienced, I find she immediately understands why I think the way I think, and it’s refreshing to not be fed the same basic CBT lines without a solid understanding of the way I react so sensitively to everything and why.

Maybe it’s not bipolar. That’s a self diagnosis that could be wrong. I’m just looking for something to explain this energy and all of my mistakes, and specifically how there are months where I am clearly depressed and others where I feel like I can take on the world’s biggest challenges and solve them by being so raw and real that people will be inspired and turn to exploring their own psyches and find out that we are all pretty much the same in our bitter-beautiful mortality.

And yet.

There is a problem with how I am. A problem not with who I am but the consequence of it. I am, apparently, an adrenaline addict, which is a thing childhood trauma and PTSD can do to a brain. I’ve been using the word “addict” a lot to describe my challenges so it makes sense.

In my preliminary reading on the subject matter — attachment disorder with adrenaline addiction — I feel myself nodding as I read the content. Basically stable life is boring and I crave chaos. I create chaos. Others do not understand this. I don’t really want chaos but it is an addiction. It is that self sabotage that happens over and over again because I’m way more comfortable with turbulence than smooth skies.

This is something, I’ve read, that is etched into my mind, but that can be mostly unwired. I hope that’s true. Because the gist of it is that the things that today have the potential to make me “happy” are the same things that trigger my next demise.

I’m told I should go jump out of airplanes to fill this need for adrenaline, but I’m not the skydiving type. But one can also do things like performing or running (30 seconds beyond feeling like you can’t run anymore) to get that dopamine in healthy ways. That makes sense—I’m happiest when I am regularly exercising because I’m burning through some of the addiction cravings temporarily. Once my back issues are resolved I’ll be making exercise a priority. I already planned to in 2020 but now it’s part of my treatment plan.

I really wish I could know what it’s like to live without any history of trauma, and can only imagine how hard it is for others who experienced far worse. I feel like somewhere in all of this there is a guidance to my future career as a therapist/author, maybe, helping others with similar pasts and making sure they understand that their brains have been altered from a young age, they are not crazy, they are just addicted to things that are not healthy in that they impact the chance to be truly happy and stable, if that’s what they want.

In the meantime, this adrenaline junkie has to stop with the involuntary self destruction and find motivation to strive for the status quo. I think my new online therapist will help me with tactics that work for PTSD which will hopefully alleviate my cravings for the ugly high of self combustion.

And, I think it is fall-winter too, that triggers the worst of it. Historically so. The fall winter turbulence followed by deep winter depression and by spring I’m ready to pick up the pieces but it’s far too late. Maybe because it’s my birthday and every year I got older the expectations to fit into this idea of the perfect little girl grew exponentially. All I remember from childhood outside of feeling like an outsider, longing to be accepted by others, is getting into trouble, being whipped, and apologizing for being a horrible, broken person. I’m pretty sure that isn’t everyone’s childhood experience.

And I relate only to those with similar childhoods, it seems—the high functioning of us, anyway. Those of us who rebelled against it. Because we want more than this and yet we aren’t sure if happiness is actually achievable in a state of stability. We have the choice between medicating away the highs that drive us (to both the good and the bad) and experiencing the flatline of emotions, or we try to get a handle on the madness etched into our minds with every gaslight comment, every burning snap of the belt against our flesh, every moment that took away our confidence and our understanding of who we truly are or how to make that person happy.

I guess it starts with accepting that SHE (he) deserves to BE happy. Not in an epic, adrenaline-inducing, self destructive sort of way, but in a calm filled with gratitude and acceptance that transcends the day and becomes a natural part of being way. There is a path to recovery and I’m going to find it. I will undo the toxic mind and somehow give birth to a woman who respects herself and believes she is worthy of her own happiness. And, that, ideally, happiness need not be synonymous with emptiness and instead actually, somehow, feel good.

Mental Health

How are you doing?

December 16, 2019December 17, 2019by Life With Interest1 Comment

It is a nicety and essential question of small talk: “how are you doing?” Variants of this question include “how was your weekend?” or more directional “don’t you feel amazing today, the weather is just perfect?”

Well, it becomes challenging to answer “how are you doing” with the socially appropriate response when you are challenged in your current state of mental health. The “correct” answer is always “good” or “great” but here’s a list of alternate answers that may be socially incorrect but a bit more accurate…

I’m horrible at the moment, thanks.
Ok. Why in this context does Ok sound not Ok? Like anything less than good is not Ok?
I was just contemplating the most painless way to put an end to my existence but I’m doing great! High five!
Didn’t sleep much last night. I have a toddler.
Didn’t sleep much last night. My mind was racing. I had a thousand ideas and wrote two blog posts. I’m tired now gosh darn it.
Didn’t sleep much last night. Was crying for hours then binge watched some series on Netflix then the sun came up.
Numb. Like. What are feelings anyway?
I think my feelings are better explained in an impromptu song and dance. (Starts to sing)
Really shitty. But I’ve come here to binge on candy and chips so I’ll feel worse soon, don’t you worry.
Spectacular. I just finished something and I think it was good. But don’t ask me later because I’m sure someone will tell me it wasn’t as good as I thought and then I will feel the opposite of spectacular.
I don’t know. I thought I was ok. But then I just remembered that Trump is president and our cops are shooting innocent people and getting away with it and the world is filled with horrible selfish people and I think I’m pretty horrible and selfish but at least I’m not a republican. You?
Like the Bay Area is too fucking expensive to live in. WTF?
Restless. Like I want to start a fight. Any interest? Oh wait I don’t know how to fight. Want to punch me in the face? That would be exciting. No, seriously. Punch me.
Sick. (Oh do you have a cold?) Mentally (said staring back blankly into the asker’s eyes.)
I plead the fifth.
You don’t want to know. If you do, read my blog at…
If I told you I’d have to kill you.
Like I don’t fit in here or anywhere else. You?
Hyper as fuck.
I do not have an HR-appropriate response to this question.
Let me send you my Spotify playlist that answers this appropriately. Think lots of Radiohead and Coldplay.
Can’t you tell by looking at my hair?
Unsure if I’m actually here at present or this all a dream or reality split in two this morning and if so I hope other me is faring better.
Well, I gotta pee. That’s why I am walking to the bathroom. Can we discuss my feelings later or else I’m going to feel something else and I won’t want to tell you about it but I promise you it will ruin my day.
Like an idiot because I overshared my overthoughts again and made things awkward and potentially harmed a friendship that means the world to me and I’m so mad at myself right now and want to erase the entirety of last week. How’s your morning going?
Great. (Starts to cry.)
Feeling sad because I don’t know if I can or should have more children and being pregnant is hard and having young kids is hard and I work full time and need to be employed for a year at one place to get maternity leave and my mental health challenges make that very difficult and I’m terrified I’m going to lose my job at the absolute worst time so I probably should not have another child but I want one and I’m getting older and… oh, you didn’t want to know all of that? Why did you ask?
Am I awake? Are you awake?
My back and arm hurts but I accidentally overdosed on Aleve so feeling great!
Like the world’s worst mom.
Good. I think. Wow. This is what feeling good feels like. Thanks for asking!
What are feelings? Why are feelings.
Pinch me and I’ll tell you.
Fuckkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fine.
Confused.
Good. Good. Good. So good.
36
16
8
2
82
Like an imposter.
Generally ok.
Fleshy.
Maybe alright?
Hungover. From 5 days ago.
Horny. I’m feeling horny. You?
Embarrassed. Chronically embarrassed.
Like I wish I was someone else.
Better than yesterday.
From 0-10? About a 2.
From 0-10? About 1000!
From 0-10? -1000. Can I leave now?
So excited! Isn’t it amazing today?
Fearful that life has no meaning.
Like my bones can feel the heaviness of the season and are cracking with each step.
Infatuated.
Extremely apathetic.
Mildly sociopathic.
Hypersensitive.
What?
The best I’ll ever feel.
Like a magnet.
Like a magnet that repels everyone around me.
Like a human.
Like someone slowly dying and existing in a meaningless void of space but appreciating that existence nonetheless because why the fuck shouldn’t I, you know, it’s all pointless so I’ve got to make it all pointy to feel anything at all. So, how’s your day going? How do YOU feel?