OCD: Intrusive Thoughts: Teeth (Ranked #2 for me) (Topic#048)

I’m going to give a couple of minutes to my 2nd worst ever intrusive thought, which itself is hard to describe in a single title. But I’m calling it: Teeth.

It’s more than the teeth. It’s the jaw, the teeth, the hit, the symmetry, the bite, the way my words are formed now. It’s also the orthodontist and his death and the loop that would never leave my head.

This began in elementary school.

I loved my teeth in elementary school. I was proud of my giant gaps and all that, but the IMPORTANT part was that my teeth aligned PERFECTLY. When I bit down, the pressure on the left side of my mouth was exactly the same as the right side. AND, at the same time, my front teeth hit each other just perfectly, too. So it became a habit of mine to “chomp” happily at times, feeling the exact evenness of every single tooth in my mouth at the exact same moment. Very pleasing.



Come middle school, I was informed that I technically had an underbite — apparently your front teeth aren’t SUPPOSED to bite down and hit perfectly on their edges like that. They also wanted to close up some of the giant gaps. I did NOT want braces. I had magical thinking at that age, and I did things that I really, really thought would somehow, just maybe, hopefully, change the course of things, but no. I had to have braces.

So I had braces. I didn’t mind braces. I didn’t mind brushing and cleaning them carefully. I didn’t care about them looking funny or whatever Hollywood claims. I always chose the same colors as my pony’s blanket and tack, so we’d match. (Only looking back 10 years later did I realize the black banded teeth looked like I was missing bunches of teeth when I opened my mouth. Whatever.) I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I had braces for fifty years.

But they came off. They held up a mirror to my face and had me smile and were all excited like I was going to love the new look. I HATED it. My teeth felt slimy and weird and I didn’t like the way my teeth looked.

First of all, without my permission, my orthodontist decided to pull my 2 upper front teeth downward, to make them be larger in my mouth. I asked him why he did that, and he said aesthetics. FUCK. But…I can’t say FU even now because he is dead, rest in peace, and he was a great person and the entire community loved him and still loves him and he died horrifically.

But did he ask for my PERMISSION to make my two front teeth look like bucked rodent teeth? No.

He did, at least, ask for permission to fill in my remaining gaps (I have small teeth) with filling stuff. For aesthetics. I said no. And he didn’t do it.

But here’s the part that was the worst of all, for me. He told me he was giving me clear retainers to wear at night and then I wouldn’t have to wear anything during the day. They were all the style. Super popular. I would love them. I TOLD HIM I DID NOT WANT THAT OPTION. I WANTED THE ATTACHED RETAINERS EVEN THOUGH IT MEANT I’D HAVE TO CONTINUE TO CLEAN VERY CAREFUL AROUND THEM FOR ALL OF THE YEARS THEY’D BE ON MY TEETH. He said no. These clear ones are the popular ones, you will love them. Everybody is wearing these.

*** For me, the fact that I even told him what I wanted is astounding. I had extremely poor social skills back then and never spoke up or told people what I wanted. But yet I did, because I knew there was no chance in hell I’d remember a retainer at night and I wanted the permanent option. I asked; I was declined.

  1. I gave it my fucking best shot. I washed the shit out of that retainer. I soaked it in the solution. I brushed it. I wore it every night for years… Sort of. I fucking SPIT IT OUT IN MY SLEEP EVERY NIGHT. I would wake up and my retainer would be under my shoulder. Once I even found it by my feet. How is that even possible…? Sometimes it was hard to even locate and would have fallen between the bed and the headboard. Hopeless.
  2. So I tried to wear it during the day. But because of my OCD, I couldn’t put it back into my mouth unless I had brushed my teeth and brushed the retainer again first. And with only 7 minutes between classes and after-school mandatory if you receive 2 tardies, that was out of the question. So I could basically wear it for a couple of hours a day tops. Not long enough.
  3. The way he had pulled my front teeth together, it turned out that it messed with the way I spoke. I had to rework my tongue for a lot of words and I NEVER could figure out how to make the “S” sound without this weird airy hissing to it. I tried putting my tongue to a space between different teeth. I mean, I tried all kinds of things and couldn’t get my S’s to sound right. Also, I could no longer bite into/chomp off a piece of bread!

So, college years. Kind of ended the wearing of the retainer altogether. Probably it was just hard enough carrying all my stuff to the public restrooms but soaking my retainer too, and all that, whatever it was, it didn’t happen.


Perfect Teeth

Let’s cut to the point. I bite down now, and my teeth are not even. I cannot tell you how much this bothers me. The pressure on the right side of my jaw and the left side of my jaw are different. It hits more on the right side than the left. And, ever since the braces came off, my top and bottom teeth hit in a horrible way. When I bite down, the bottom teeth hit the inside of my upper teeth. Apparently this is “normal” for a human bite, but it hurts like hell! My upper teeth actually get sore from it! That’s where the majority of the pressure is when I bite down.

But for so many years, any time it came into my head, I felt SO MUCH ANGER. SO much anger. I cannot even express it. Because this is my mouth and I’m biting all day long and it’s just not right. My teeth didn’t stay together, obviously, because I did not follow the correct procedure with the clear, night retainer. So all that money of my parents’, just wasted. Down the toilet. And my front teeth are huge compared to the rest of my teeth because of his choice and I’m terribly self-conscious of them. I feel ugly 100% of the time because of them. (I told this to someone once and they responded, “Yeah, I’ve always wondered why your front teeth are so much bigger than the rest of your teeth.” See, I’m not imagining things.)

But the loop was, all of this extreme feeling coming up and then INSTANTLY extreme guilt, fear. Fear that I was hurting him somehow. Because he is deceased and fear of thinking ill of the dead. Crying and angry and crying and angry and so ashamed of myself just on and on. This came up probably daily. I would try so hard to forgive him. I can’t blame him, he’s dead now. And he was SUCH a nice person. And everybody knows it, he was genuinely a nice person, made a huge difference in the community. BUT I TOLD HIM I wanted the other option, forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

The thought of it could come up literally any time day or night. Because it’s any time I bite down OR any time I see a photo that shows my teeth OR a mirror. Or just smile at someone and feel like my giant teeth are sticking out for them. And then it would be this horrible loop I couldn’t break out of. And I would HATE myself SO MUCH for feeling anything ill toward a kind, dead man. I’d be scared of it and anxious. And then just one thought would come in and I’d be angry again, and then be so afraid to be angry, and so guilty and so afraid of my thoughts, and wish so much that it would stop coming up. In some ways, I think I felt like I was dooming him or harming him or his still-living family somehow, by having negative thoughts about him.

Anyway, this is another intrusive thought that’s left me since the just-before-divorce time period. I swear that time period changed my brain. OF COURSE I think of my teeth still — all the time — how could I not? My upper front teeth literally HURT because that’s where the majority of pressure goes when I bite down. But the anxiety about it is gone. The fear of the thoughts is gone. The fear of hurting a dead man is gone. I still feel guilty, like I wish I hadn’t had such angry thoughts against him, but maybe he’d understand that I’m just and have always been very sensitive to physical issues.

I talked with a dentist about the uneven pressure of my bite about two years ago. He could see there’s a touch of unevenness but not much. He let me visit an orthodontist. I did a poor job explaining, since I didn’t know how to put my biggest concerns into words, but they did x-rays or whatever and said it looked like however my teeth are right now, as long as they don’t shift too much more, they should be fine. I was a little devastated. I want braces again. I want my front teeth to no longer face away from each other the way they’ve shifted. I want to get the permanent retainer this time. I want the bite to be pain free and maaaaybe… evenly distributed (but that’s too much to ask for).

I should just hire an equine dentist. My last vet did a great job “floating” (grinding even) my pony’s bite.


Lost Meaning is irrelevant. New Meaning is what Matters Now (Topic#047)

The list of things that lost their meaning to me is too vast to list. Instead, I am going to list things that I Currently Love. For me, love in the heart is 100%. It’s a small bubble of joy. It’s a second of bliss. It’s a moment of excitement and freedom. It’s an emotion. It’s a feeling.



Here Is What I Love Lately:

  • Finishing a project at work, no matter how tiny.
  • Missing my train because I was helping other people figure out the ticket machine.
  • One elderly gentleman actually trusting me enough to handle his $10 to show him which way to insert it into the machine.
  • The salmon, yellow, and greens of the single cut flower on my desk right now.
  • I am clean and wearing clean clothes, and am at the perfect temperature.
  • That I just turned around and got someone a missing W9 form from another company within 2 minutes of our payroll informing me that we still needed theirs.
  • Some of “Joe’s” texts making me literally laugh out loud.
  • Cars honking out my office window. No joke. I laugh SO HARD sometimes. I am waiting for a world-record of honking at that corner. Sometimes a person will just lay on the horn so long, I wonder if they’ll ever let up, but sadly, they always do.
  • The cooing of pigeons that settle on the ledge of our office windows (I don’t have a window seat but I always get up to peek on him).
  • The banter of two office workers in particular, who happen to both be in the office today.
  • The sound of their laughter. ❤
  • Watching nobody sit down on a just-vacated train seat because everybody is being polite and offering it to everybody else and nobody knows who is going to take it. LOL
  • Phone calls where you are exceedingly polite and ask to take a message and the other party says no-I’ll-try-back-later-*CLICK* hahaha Noooo YOU weren’t a spam call…not at all.
  • Having the soundtrack to “Into The Woods” in your head the entire day. (I thought the movie actually did a great job of it, EVEN THOUGH they let some happy endings slip through that were NOT supposed to be there, and hacked out “Agony Reprise” which is one of my favorite songs from it.)
  • Having a little baggy of moistened seeds on my desk, that may or may not germinate (I don’t think the seeds were fully formed when they dropped; I think the pods dropped from dehydration. But I’m going to try it anyway.)
  • After missing my train, sitting in the sunshine with my face exposed for a full 15 minutes.
  • The random musicians (or non-musicians) that try to play music for change all around here. The recorder player is my favorite. Or maybe it was the percussionist in the wolf mask…
  • Practicing guitar
  • Singing (however poorly; the vibration in my throat is comforting)
  • Calling my uncle White Trash and having him call me a Hillbilly (referencing movie “Wedding Crashers”) (“What does that even mean?!”)
  • Gluten-free, vegan pizzas
  • Taking the dogs on a walk
  • Sketching (although I have stopped that yet again for now; pressure got too high)
  • Blogging
  • Taking pictures
  • Not letting my adopted bedroom get too messy (quite an accomplishment, for me!)
  • Walking down sidewalks and just happening to be behind an adorable little dog with the cutest trot the whole way
  • Being at the Meditation center (which hasn’t happened in forever)
  • The pictures of my baby boy (dog) that my mom sends me
  • The stories of my baby’s adventures

P.S. My blog is winding down to a close now. It’ll still be in progress for a while yet, but I’m nearly done with all that I wanted to tell.

GRILLED! It’s a race against time! …or against clonazepam kicking in, anyway (Journal#065)



I think I’m going to call today an “off” day and that’s okay. It wasn’t too bad. Just off.

  • It started with me running late yet again in the morning.
  • I had a little mis-hap in therapy this morning.
    1. Sorry, I won’t share the topic, but
    2. I did dissociate a bit
    3. Due to a suddenly large amount of stress
    4. Due to extreme feelings of embarrassment/shame
    5. But whatever. As soon as I dissociated, I was fine. Just waited a long, long time for a change in topic. Let it be known I can wait all day, all night, in that state. [I HAVE BEEN GONE A WHILE; clonazepam has kicked in completely; it might be hard for me to focus a bit.] My mind is not thinking, not pondering, not racing. There becomes only what’s there. My breathing. The lack of bird calls outside. My hand which suddenly does not look so much like my hand but I know it is and I try to refocus and remember I am just waiting.
  • It was fine. I got everything done there that I needed to do. My coworkers were actually there today, so that was nice.
  • Psychiatrist appointment. It went really well, I think! I was sooooo “off” at first. I had forgotten to eat lunch, grabbed a stupid snack bar on the way to her office, and was shaking and weak-headed when I got there. I couldn’t focus on her worth shit at first. I kept having to reorient my eyes toward her, I could feel them sliding to the side in a weird way, almost like focusing past her instead of on her level, just from my own inner trembly-ness.
    1. By the end of the appointment, I felt a bit more real and present. She has some brilliant brainstorming about things we could try.
    2. I am, in fact, assumedly going to be trying one such new thing starting tomorrow. Going down on one of my meds (the Wellbutrin SR) to see if that helps me sleep through the night better. And then eventually, it sounds like I will switch the Lexapro to another similar drug with a longer halflife, in hopes of no longer getting those horrible brain-zappies if I miss a dose for more than 5 hours.
  • Walked home. Nobody else was home so I ate some food that “Joe” had previously brought me for just such occasions, and has been in the freezer.
    1. I finished eating. I decided to take a shower.
    2. Before I got to the shower, my brother and uncle came home.
    3. They grilled the SHIT out of me for quite a long while.
        1. Me: Okay. I don’t have it. [Trying to end the topic ASAP.]
        3. Me: That’s because it’s now clumped with “autism spectrum disorder”
        4. Brother: Because they realize it wasn’t a real thing
        5. Me: As it had been in the first place, the only significant difference between “asperger” and high functioning autism was the exact age the child began to speak
        6. Brother: Well does this psychiatrist think you have asperger? Because there is no way you do.
        7. Me: It hasn’t been brought up. We’re focusing on depression, anxiety and sleep right now. Asperger is irrelevant.
        8. Brother: Well, I’ve read about asperger and you don’t have those symptoms. You’re empathetic and overly sensitive to things.
        9. Me: You are likely reading from the more common male features. You probably haven’t read the more female-specific lists.
        10. This went on and on and on and on.
        1. Uncle: I don’t want to see you reliant on any medications.
        2. Me: That’s not possible. I have hypothyroidism.
        3. Uncle: That one doesn’t count. I want you off all this dangerous shit that you don’t need. You’d be so much better off without it. How can they PUT you on these medicines and then not monitor you for ten years?? They should be in prison (that last line was from a previous conversation, actually.)
        4. Me: I needed it.
        5. Them: Why are you still on it? Wasn’t it situational? Sure, you had a traumatic experience [college] but after that they should have taken you off.
        6. Me: It’s not as simple as that. You go on antidepressants, sure, maybe something happened that trigger the immediate need for them. But you go for a year. You are experimenting. You see if you can go without anti-depressants after that. But if you are still depressed off of them, they put you back on them for an even longer time. Like, the rest of your life. If you’ve had multiple majorly depressed episodes, yeah, they tell you you’ll probably always need to be on antidepressants. That it wasn’t just situation, it’s biochemical.
        7. Uncle: Why would you need them now? You have everything going for you. You have a perfect brother here. You have a perfect uncle here.
        8. Me: Well that’s true. [Trying to diffuse situation]
        9. Uncle: I would NEVER let my son be put on these drugs. Maybe if a doctor sat me down and said look, if your son doesn’t take these drugs, he’ll die. Period.
        10. Me: [Now thinking, you really don’t want to know the truth]
        11. Uncle: Don’t you WANT to be off these horrible meds?????
        12. Me: Of course. But it’s certainly not going to be right away [doesn’t mention that I still, every now and then, have moments where death sounds so relaxing, so much trying and struggling just stopped. No more worry and no more burden. Just the pain of the process, which of course stops me, that and knowing my mum would never, never recover. So my thoughts aren’t serious; they just pass through]. But look, frankly, in my personal opinion, you DON’T start going off of your anti-depressants while still on a fairly dangerously close path to complete, complete and utter hopelessness. I’m VERY hopeful today, but I know it takes just one blink of an eye to be back in overwhelming hopelessness.
Grumpy Cat Love

Grumpy Cat Love

I forgot where I was in all this. But you get the point. It went on and on and on and on and voices were raised and there was much emotion and grilling and then when I was asked, “well what do YOU think?” I was already overridden so many times by that point, I said frankly, “It doesn’t matter what I think, now does it.” OOHH boy that got under their skin. Sheesh. I try to speak / get interrupted / try to speak / get interrupted / try to speak / be shown how I’m wrong.

Yeah. Whatever, peeps. I’m out! Done with that shit. 1 mg of clonazepam came and is here for me and I will fall asleep easily tonight, which oh my GOD am I looking forward to.

So, tomorrow should be chill (remember, I’m not posting any Journal posts tomorrow. Don’t miss me too much. 😉 ). All I have tomorrow is working, and maybe a FaceTime with my mom. And on Thursday, I’m going to try my ass off to get up EARLY EARLY and go to work at a decent hour….. so I can cut out early and hang with “Joe”. I’m going to have dinner with him and his dad, and then return home. This is because we won’t see each other this weekend, as I will be somewhat far away, dog-sitting for my beloved cousins and their monstrously playful puppy.

OCD: Contamination: Clothing (Topic#046)

This topic came to mind over the weekend when “Joe” and I were going to sit on my bed to watch some old Star Trek TNG. And I had to first excuse myself to put on a different pair of pants because I won’t wear my “outdoor” jeans on my bed.

This all started in a very easy, straight-forward way: Allergies.

Equine Love

Equine Love

It started in about fifth or sixth grade when I had a pony. My dad was highly allergic to horses and it was the rules that I come home and immediately change, separate out any “horse” contaminated clothing for the laundry and jump in the shower.

As the years progressed, my own allergies to horses became terrible. It was very important for me to keep all “horse” items separate from anything else. I’d break out in a rash if I so much as touched a “contaminated” item.

By high school, my feelings toward “clean” versus “dirty” clothes were quite strong. Even for clothes that were not necessarily “horse” contaminated. Even the floor beneath the dirty clothes pile felt “contaminated”. If the clothes were dirty, they couldn’t so much as bump into “clean” clothes or said “clean” item would have to be washed as well. I remember panicking once because someone had pushed my dirty and clean piles together and the anxiety was too much. I rewashed everything.

At its peak, I would have to change out of my clothes as soon as I would come home from being in the “public”. If I had had to use a sleeve to open a doorknob or anything, I would remember and be careful with that area of clothing until I was able to go home and change. Ditto for my jeans — sitting on a public chair or brushing into a public doorway or anything like that meant being very careful not to touch those parts of my pants until I could go change. Obviously nothing could be re-worn.

I can’t say for sure when/how this relaxed. I know that at some point I had three piles: 1 for absolutely needs washing, 1 for an intermediate status (possibly I could wear something again, as I hadn’t worn it for very long or just around the house or whatever), and totally clean. These 3 piles couldn’t touch at all. Even if I’d only worn a sweater for a couple of hours inside of the house, there’s no WAY I could hang it up in the closet/ let it brush against “clean” clothes.

I’m so relaxed about all of this now-a-days! It’s amazing to consider. Get this:

  • I re-wear clothes now, sometimes even when they are definitely dirty
  • My “dirty” pile and “intermediate” pile are one-and-the-same, for the most part (okay, sometimes my chair becomes piled with “intermediate” clothes)
  • My “dirty” and “clean” clothes can bump and it’s totally fine, no anxiety
  • I do not change out of my clothes after returning home from the “public”
  • I no longer think much about parts of clothing that bumped into “public” things

But, to bed! Clean clothes / pajamas only. I do re-wear pajamas for up to 2 or 3 nights in a row, depending on if I sweat during the night or not (sometimes I wake up drenched in sweat and freezing cold; I don’t know why). Fresh socks only. When I’m re-using pajamas, the nights have to be in a row. If I wear them once, set them on the bed, forget they’re there, wear a different pair the next night, and later find the first pair, forget it. They’re “dirty”.

Anxiety, Insomnia, That YOU guys helped resolve tonight! (Journal#064)

This is kind of funny to me so I want to share it. I actually tried to go to bed “early” tonight. But as I lay there, I became more and more anxious on some topic and finally decided I would blog about it so it would stop playing out in my head.

Only, once I got here, I found myself scrolling through my WP Reader and reading Your Blogs. And although so many of you are going through so much trouble right now, I find myself feeling like I fit in, like I am somehow part of this community that Annie and a few other bloggers have mentioned recently. And strugglingbutstillfighting, I don’t know if you’ll see this, but your recent post was really powerful for me. Although it stemmed from nearly ending your life the other night, the determination at the end of your post, the tone of your “voice”, to turn this life around, even though nothing had really changed outside of yourself, was really something. It really motivates me again to hurry up and find some place to volunteer – that’s personally how I want to fulfill that aspect of finding “meaning” in my life.

I just feel so much more at peace after having “dropped in” on so many of Your Blogs tonight. OOhhh I never got to the funny part of all this: The funny part is that I’m totally calm now and literally have NO IDEA what I was going to post about in the first place! 😀

Goodnight, All.

P.S. I’m going to do a Journal post tomorrow, but only one. Then, I will do no Journal posts on Wednesday.

The first poem I ever wrote & hiding in the woods

In early elementary school, we were learning about analogies and such in class. Our assignment was to write what people were “like”. Mine made my mom cry her eyes out, although I didn’t learn that for years. She said it was 100% accurate:

My mom is like the ocean, sometimes stormy and sometimes calm.
My brother is like a teapot, always huffing and puffing and letting off steam.
My dad is like a twig in the river, always going with the flow.
And I am like a deer lost in the forest, who must learn to take care of myself.

There’s a lot I want to say about the last line, but I keep deleting what I write. So I’ll just say that without question, this is how I felt for all of childhood. Anything else I want to say will be for a different day.

Ruby Tiger Moth

Ruby Tiger Moth

EDIT: I was thinking about this poem because of a conversation on blahpolar’s page, which had me thinking about the few people who keep encouraging me to go off of my meds, and how much I’ve argued for staying on my meds (when really, of course I want off of them, but). And it had me thinking that I’ve been depressed for far more of my life than non-depressed. I wasn’t terribly depressed in elementary school, but I was definitely melancholy/sad. The woods and the rain and the caterpillars were my friends. I had built a fort in the woods near my house, and would hide there.

My proudest times were when unsuspecting walkers would walk the trail past me and never know I was there. The most anxious was when their loose dogs would always sniff me out, and sometimes get the people’s attention. At the same time, I liked the visiting dogs. They knew, you know.

Later, my path to the hiding spot became too worn, because these two particular neighbor dogs kept visiting me and they always came up the same way. I would walk around and around in the woods to try and get them used to a different path and throw “people” off, but no. I couldn’t hide there then, because it felt too exposed due to the dogs’ path.

I spent a lot of time there. I know I sometimes wrote sad poems out there. I don’t really remember what else I did. Probably I day dreamed most of the time. That’s what I did most of my childhood anyway, was daydream.

I day dreamed so deeply that people could be talking directly to me and I’d be completely unaware. They could say my name and everything and I would still be lost somewhere in my head.

The book I most identify with is “House of Stairs” by William Sleator (not the plot itself, just a particular character was Was Me Back Then). I hadn’t read the book until middle school, but I knew immediately. If you read that, you’ll know exactly where I was mentally and ashamedly, even what my daydreams were about. I made my high school counselor read that. I don’t think she understood. On the other hand, she kept asking me if I’d had any childhood abuse and I kept saying no, because at the time, I didn’t know it was considered abuse. But I still don’t think she understood the point I was trying to make about my character in that book.

This is so horrible to admit, because my parents are so full of love and they’re great, but yet I was quite sad as a child– that’s how I’ll excuse this: But I used to fog up my window in the back seat and write “help me” signs to the other cars. Sometimes I would press my palm up by the words. Nobody ever responded. At some point, I realized my words would be backwards for the other people, but writing backwards got no response, either. Just as well.

Actually, I spent a ton of time hiding under my bed and also behind a particular couch. No more details.

Officially Overwhelmed. (Journal#063)


I bought another flower to bring to work this morning. It used the last $2.50 I’d budgeted for eating out this month.

Today, I am officially overwhelmed. There is too damn much going on this week and I can’t focus.

  • I did get the report out on time for work. I made the deadline by about 2 minutes.
  • My brother is here now.
  • I want to visit him at his place; he is moving to a beautiful location. It cannot be until 2 weekends from now, however, to be in daylight.
  • I was planning to see “Joe” once this weekend, but change of plans.
  • I will be in a different city over the weekend, dog-sitting for some of my awesome cousins. But the number of questions are hurting my brain:
    • When will I leave here via train, when will they pick me up from the nearest stop? How much will it cost?
    • What will I do while there, aside from playing with their adorable puppy. Oh… and picking up feces! Remind me to bring a mask.
    • What will I eat?
    • I’ll have to pack and prepare for staying the night there.
    • When will they return on Sunday?
    • When will they drive me home? (How much food should I expect to bring myself?)
  • I will be missing a BBQ in honor of my brother and his gf who is flying up for the weekend. I’m actually okay with that, because y’all know I started getting stressed at the parties. But I do feel guilty for missing it.
  • I might try to spend some time with “Joe” after work on Thursday instead.
    • But, that is when my brother’s gf arrives, I think. Do I need to be there for her arrival?
    • I’ve only been working half days lately. I’m considering trying to get my ass out of bed at an actually decent hour and then I could leave early, spend a little time with “Joe”, and also be there when my brother’s gf arrives.
    • But it’s been a month since I’ve made it to work before noon. I’m genuinely scared to try.
  • Paperwork. I’ve fallen so behind on paperwork. My insurance is giving me a really hard time and I’m losing track of what they’ve gotten and what they haven’t, what they’re processing and what they’re not, etc. They take months to process a manually-submitted claim, I think, and I have been doing a poor job of keeping record.
  • UPDATE: Also, I see my therapist and psychiatrist tomorrow, one in the morning and one later in the afternoon. I don’t recall what time nor where her office is, but I’ll figure that out at some point. I do remember mis-timing it last week and kind of having to jog there from the train. So it can’t be too far.

Someone online gave me creep-out vibes (amazing how some people can manage that in just a handful of sentences) so I’m kind of weirded-out feeling today. Haven’t normalized yet.

I did wake up around 7-ish for work this morning. I was fairly wide awake. BUT, my heart was beating too hard/fast, so I didn’t get out of bed. Why is going to work on time giving me anxiety? O_o Oh, well. A mystery for a different day.

Also pending, my company might be moving this week. But we still don’t know for sure. And thus have no moving company chosen or anything particularly boxed for moving (how can I begin boxing without boxes?). Meh!