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Nov. 21st, 2016 10:47 amI made a bread over the weekend! And another batch of pizza dough that turned out quite well if I do say so myself, although I need a better storage mechanism. But bread! Bready bready bread. I'm very glad my yeast problem was so easily solved with a little help from my friends and not something weird and horrible and me being bad at domestic and so on. I also made some pretty damn good pizza if I do say so myself.
I logged onto Twitter and saw the Nazis took over a building in the capital to do their Sieg Heil speeches and decided I couldn't for the rest of the day. At some point I do need to do the ACA survey and register my opinion on the Oversight Committee looking into conflicts of interest, and I might do that today to get it done, but I can't. I am so goddamn tired and it isn't even Day 1 yet.
I spent the better part of the weekend in a depressionesque fugue under blankets on the couch. I did get some physics done, and I made bread and pizza dough and pizza sauce and cleaned up in the kitchen a little. But mostly, fugue. I do plan on making a regular donation to the ACLU if six/twelve months go by and we haven't fallen into a deep Recession/Depression. I ought to be able to afford it then. I just. Depressionesque fugue. Is it still depression if it's situational rather than clinical? Or is it some other word that means depression caused by non-concussive trauma to the brainpan? I've read the research that says situations and crises cause injury-like effects in the brain, so what do we call that if it's neither a non-triggered/caused illness nor a physical, usually concussive trauma? I need more words.
And at this point I'm sciencing it out to avoid thinking about other things. Heh.
Oddly, I've been better about physical self care recently than I would have expected. I washed my hair with redhead shampoo that I'm sort of eking out, I put Argan Oil in it. I moisturized my feet this morning, and I've been regularly moisturizing my face. I put on makeup. I put on warm tights under my jeans. I haven't been doing that badly. I'm just extremely tired and sad and everything feels hopeless. The little voice in the back of my head sobbing I don't want to die is louder today.
I'll get through it. I'm strong. I know this. I'm just also tired and sad and scared, as per usual for the next four years. And I don't know what's going to happen. It's the uncertainty that's worst.
ETA: I will say though. I'm rather pleased to discover that my life has also prepared me to sound like a staffer on West Wing when I call an unexpectedly get through to Paul Ryan's voicemail.
I logged onto Twitter and saw the Nazis took over a building in the capital to do their Sieg Heil speeches and decided I couldn't for the rest of the day. At some point I do need to do the ACA survey and register my opinion on the Oversight Committee looking into conflicts of interest, and I might do that today to get it done, but I can't. I am so goddamn tired and it isn't even Day 1 yet.
I spent the better part of the weekend in a depressionesque fugue under blankets on the couch. I did get some physics done, and I made bread and pizza dough and pizza sauce and cleaned up in the kitchen a little. But mostly, fugue. I do plan on making a regular donation to the ACLU if six/twelve months go by and we haven't fallen into a deep Recession/Depression. I ought to be able to afford it then. I just. Depressionesque fugue. Is it still depression if it's situational rather than clinical? Or is it some other word that means depression caused by non-concussive trauma to the brainpan? I've read the research that says situations and crises cause injury-like effects in the brain, so what do we call that if it's neither a non-triggered/caused illness nor a physical, usually concussive trauma? I need more words.
And at this point I'm sciencing it out to avoid thinking about other things. Heh.
Oddly, I've been better about physical self care recently than I would have expected. I washed my hair with redhead shampoo that I'm sort of eking out, I put Argan Oil in it. I moisturized my feet this morning, and I've been regularly moisturizing my face. I put on makeup. I put on warm tights under my jeans. I haven't been doing that badly. I'm just extremely tired and sad and everything feels hopeless. The little voice in the back of my head sobbing I don't want to die is louder today.
I'll get through it. I'm strong. I know this. I'm just also tired and sad and scared, as per usual for the next four years. And I don't know what's going to happen. It's the uncertainty that's worst.
ETA: I will say though. I'm rather pleased to discover that my life has also prepared me to sound like a staffer on West Wing when I call an unexpectedly get through to Paul Ryan's voicemail.