Day 30: The Bridge on the River Unfucking

Welp, I broke the Not Posting gap by answering a question so I might as well TELL YOU ABOUT MY DAY.

Basically, my body has adjusted to my ADD meds—which also help my anxiety and depression immensely—and I need to increase my (really very small) dosage. I found myself all:

And it wasn’t normal or good. I stopped making my bed or doing the dishes, I didn’t get any writing done at all—though I did keep practicing my accordion. I’m not proud. I’d been hiding under the couch all terrified of the sun and anxious and depressed and avoidant and like I WILL NEVER FINISH EVERYTHING HUG ME FELINE FRIEND. EMAIL IS TERRIFYING.

TURNS OUT I ACTUALLY NEED TO BE MEDICATED WHICH IS WHY I HAVE MEDICATION DUH GURL. I’m a little better now, having doubled up my pills until my doctor appointment on Monday. Yesterday was not too bad. I practiced, did the dishes, made the bed, wrote a short-short story and made roast chicken with chard and mushrooms and garlic for dinner, then conferenced with a student for the better part of an evening.

I have not been great with getting up early (my goal was before 9) BUT I have been up by 10:30 every day, and usually by 10, which is WAY BETTER than I was averaging before when up at noon was a good show. I have cleaned the kitchen, tidied up the living room, taken care of the chickens, practiced my accordion, and tweeted and blogged a bit.

But now I have to go to my office and work and SHIT YOU GUYS I have let this get bad. I have two poems due Saturday, neither of which I have any ideas about, a novella by 4/15 and a novel by 5/1. I think I still have it mathed so I only have to do 2000 words a day if I start the novel on Monday, but that still means doing the novella alongside the novel, which sucks anyway, but if I do 1000 words on that a day I’m still within my 3000 word limit and it’ll still be the most pleasantly paced novel writing I’ve ever done. Just have to get those poems done. Always knew the writing would be the hardest to unfuck.

Can you tell I used to be an obsessive counter? (Knitting fixed it, yo.)

I have no idea what to make for dinner tonight. Something with food. I’m trying to just get dinner ready before Beastly gets home—not because he’s a MAN and I’m a LITTLE LADY with slippers and cocktails at 5 and shit, but because we can be done eating by 6:45 and have an evening if I just organize my time and turn it out.

I love cooking, it’s the figuring out what to cook that sucks.

Or we can be done eating at 8:30 and have barely any time fore Mr. 6 am needs to go to bed. He makes breakfast and lunch on the weekends. I feel secure in my feminist boots.

So yeah. Slowly coming back to the land of the living. I should get my tits on and go to the office. Latrice, mama, you wanna play us out?

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