Working from home was a breeze, but the real workout was trekking to my monthly psychiatrist appointment. I popped my trusty ‘crazy meds’ this morning, keeping my harm OCD and anxiety in check. Walking both ways transformed me into a sweaty mess, proving that even a calm day requires serious legwork. Despite the trek and a long weekend, I’m still standing strong and completely sober, enjoying my victory under the AC.
Woke up today and my Harm OCD is already clocking in for a double shift. Trying to negotiate with my Bipolar 2 before my feet even hit the floor. 56 years of this and I still haven’t figured out how to fire either of them. Here’s to another day of surviving the mess.
Sorry for the silence. My depression teamed up for a fun game of “Who the fuck am I and what is my purpose?” Spoiler: Still don’t know. But I’m still breathing, still a grandpa, and still crazy.