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 |  Pearls of wisdom, inappropriate thoughts and the occasional rant. |
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| Apparently this feeling of not wanting to do anything but feeling like I should be doing something is called restlessness. According to the almost a therapist I saw via virtual visit. I assumed being restless involved anxiety, but she said it's probably because I'm bored. According to her, I need to take charge of something at work so that I would feel accomplished. Don't have a job? Well, I should get one because being productive will help me too. So I told her I was feeling accomplished enough, I was in the middle of research for next week's lesson plan. I'm combining history, geography, and agriculture for a special unit of survival skills. WTF is up with this productivity craze? So yeah, if anyone needs me to take charge of something let me know. I'll hop to it as soon as I'm done watching this living history series of life on an Edwardian farm. |
I honestly can't tell if something is wrong with me or not. Besides the usual craziness, I mean. I'm neither up or down, which would be great except that I feel...nothing. I'm not angry at the world, scared to leave the house, or overcome with sorrow. But I'm also not happy, excited, motivated, or even just content. I'm stuck. Frozen in time. There's nothing I need to be doing and I don't want to do the things I should or could do. I've slacked off on school shit and my housekeeping skills have slightly declined. I really need a friend and possibly an actual life beyond this house. Several years ago, I had a traumatic experience that changed everything in my life. I remember thinking to myself that it was strange how I survived something horrific and wasn't affected at all. But that's all I thought. Nothing seemed real. I'd sit around quietly staring off into space with a completely empty mind. After weeks of living with a person that did little more than exist, my friend, Josh insisted on accompanying me for a follow-up visit at the hospital. When he repeated some of the things I had said, the doctor quickly said the void where I had taken up residence was actually something called dissociative PTSD with symptoms of depersonalization. I almost feel like that now. Almost, people, don't freak out. I'm sure whatever this is will soon pass. Hell, I figured being cooped up with my family for so long would have us fighting in the front yard, but it hasn't happened. Thankfully, I mean, it's bad enough we live in the barrio, but we don't have to behave like our white trash neighbors too. Ah, little blessings. |
| Since my city isn't enforcing the state order to cover up in public, I'm terrified to leave the house. Thankfully, I'm pretty well stocked up on necessities for the next month. Between self isolating and the constant fear of losing loved ones, I'm having a difficult time staying out of the bottomless black hole of depression. I barely log in here and when I do, I'm too unmotivated to respond to emails, comment on the newsfeed, or participate. But at least I log in occasionally. It's all I can do right now. |
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but seems to be okay today. I worry about my poor circulation, scrub my toes with a soft bristle brush, watch discoloration come and go. I probably need new arteries or veins but hey... "Heathcare" USA (enough said?). I may be better off trying something here in Thailand. But still... wish I lived in a country that had adequate patient based healthcare. Thailand and Taiwan mostly do, but I can't access it. First world systems like Europe, Canada and Australia do, but again, I can't access it.