fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
Took a bunch of vegetables, steam-cooked them, scooped some onto rice, scooped some chicken onto the vegetables, added Triple Ginger Teriyaki sauce, and boom! Simple, delicious meal! Granted, the cooking and cutting of the chicken and the veggies was long and difficult work, but now I'll have a simple throw-together meal for when I have less energy and/or time! (The rice takes only 8 minutes in my microwave-usable rice cooker. And no, it's not instant rice, it's regular rice.)

Veggies I have in this batch:
Broccoli, green beans, sugar snap peas in their pods, three different colors of bell pepper (red, yellow, and orange), carrots, celery, mushrooms, and yellow squash (basically a yellow zucchini).

Later I might add a can of baby corn and a can of water chestnuts. And I have a bottle of orange sauce for when the triple ginger runs out.

So yeah there's another thing: you could buy canned veggies and pre-cut chicken and save time and effort.
fayanora: doughnut (doughnut)
I was trying to think of non-judgmental terms to describe a couple of feelings I have as a person with chronic depression, feelings that were attributed to laziness growing up because my Mom - despite having chronic depression herself even then - apparently was not aware that kids can have chronic depression, too.

Anyway, so here are the terms I came up with:

Critical power conservation: When you know your energy level is shot, or will be shot if you do a task, resulting in exhaustion, and therefore you choose to not do the thing, no matter how much you may need to. (Alternatively, "low battery alert.")

Non-critical power conservation: There's a chance doing the thing may cause exhaustion, but not a huge chance. And yet you choose to not do the thing anyway, not wanting to take the risk for whatever reason. (Alternatively, "battery at 45%" or "strategic resource allocation.")
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
I like to think of depression as being in a spacecraft, and the door opens, sucking out the air. Now depending on how big your spacecraft and how big the air leak, it could take anywhere from months for the air to disappear, to it all rushing out in a matter of hours. And then when all the air is gone, apathy is the void inside. And if you're lucky, you got into your spacesuit in time, but that air will only last so long.

You can take steps to patch the hole(s), maybe find something that can act like making a pit stop at a space station for extra air. And even if you've sealed all the leaks and have air recycling systems going, you're still surrounded by void, and something could happen at any minute to start the process over again. But then, I think all of us are drifting in the void, and some people only lose air when some life event blasts a hole in their hull, but they patch it up in time and go on about their lives.

While those of us with depression... a lot of us have been through so many battles with so many alien vessels and ion storms and whatnot, that there are leaks everywhere, and only several years or decades with no battles at all would be enough time to find all the leaks and repair them. And even then, the structural integrity is compromised. But of course life always has its battles, so healing is slow when it happens at all. And sometimes things in the ship malfunction and you go into battle mode when there's nothing out there, or something just settles the wrong way and causes an unanticipated collapse that has to be fixed. So the red alerts keep going off.

I think Robin Williams's ship just was so tired of the constant red alerts and battles and the continuing damage from a settling, ill-repaired ship that he felt adrift and was just like, "Fuck it" and hit the reactor overload button to self destruct.
fayanora: Little Girl in rain By lj user never_end (Little Girl in rain By lj user never_end)
So I just noticed another form of executive functioning problem that happens sometimes to me. I'm going to call it FORC - Failure Of Random Circuit - to tie in with the whole "spoon theory" thing.

FORC is when I start a task with plenty of spoons, go about the task with no problems, and even complete the task, but for "spoon" reasons one of the steps in the task is dropped.

Here is an example of a FORC:

Making food, getting out all the supplies I want for that food, all seems well. Then I look at one of the ingredients and decide I don't have the spoons to use that ingredient, like for instance slicing cheese sounds too bothersome, and so I put it away but proceed to use the other ingredients and finish making and eating the meal. That is an instance of a FORC.
fayanora: Avatar dino (Avatar dino)
The following is from a Tumblr post, I felt it was important for people to read, so I am reposting it here. The link to the post is here.

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if you could go in depth about autistic people who need help doing cretin things like going to the bathroom,washing hair, remembering to eat, ect. You don't really hear about that much I and I would like to learn more about people with autism who have trouble with task that for most people are 'simple'. I often forget to eat/drink because i don't notice I'm hungry


neurowonderful answered:

Hi anon. This is a very big topic that is difficult for me to write about here, seeing as how every autistic person is different and will have different disabilities and difficulties.

There are lots of daily tasks that neurotypical and able bodied people tend to think of as simple or easy but that can pose real challenges for autistic, neuro-atypical, and disabled people. Many of these are what is known as “self care skills”. Personal hygiene (brushing ones teeth, showering/bathing, dressing, etc.) and basic homemaking (preparing food/meals, cleaning counters and sinks, sweeping/vacuuming, maintaining a tidy living environment, etc.) make up most of the “self care skills” people talk about.

There is a stigma surrounding those who, for whatever reason, need assistance or accommodation with self-care skills. This is partly because of a lack of understanding or empathy on the part of the able bodied/neurotypical majority. The able bodied/neurotypical thinking appears to be something like, “I learned to brush my teeth when I was four, and I have never had any trouble brushing my teeth, so idea of someone who does have trouble brushing their teeth is confusing/pitiable/unbelievable to me”.

I think another part of the stigma is that many of the self care skills people talk about were “supposed” to be learned and mastered in childhood. The able majority is all about the normative milestones, and there is a definite link in the average able/neurotypical person’s mind between the mastery of self care skills and adulthood. This means that disabled people who struggle with or who need accommodation to perform self care skills are often infantilized and presumed to be less competent overall, even in areas where they display no disabilities or challenges.

When it comes to autistic people specifically, there are many reasons that self care, like showering or remembering to eat or drink, might be difficult. In my mind the three biggest reasons are sensory processing issues (SPD), executive function issues (executive dysfunction), and comorbid conditions (other disorders or conditions that are also present).

Rest of the original post )

arinwolfe:

The more I read the. More I want to cry because I’m not alone. I thought it was just me, that I was broken. ( not that I think anyone else that needs help is!)


(What follows is from the same post, it's my response)

I know when I get “in the zone” on something, I tune everything else out. When I finally snap out of it, hours have passed and I’m hungry, have to pee, thirsty, and who knows what else. I had at least one instance of spending a whole 8 hours straight, no breaks, just drawing. Holy CRAP I felt horrible when I snapped out of that one. I try not to let myself stay in the zone that long.

As to everyday life, a lot of self-care things I just forget because I’ve gotten distracted. I get up and I’m like “Oh gotta do the thing,” but then I’m like, “Wait, gotta do this other thing first,” and then I forget about the first thing and do other stuff, then an hour later or so I remember again and we start the process all over again.

Then, too, depression plays a major role in my self-care issues, too. I keep my hair in braids so it doesn’t get tangled into rats nests at night, but a lot of mornings I don’t have the energy to comb them out and rebraid them, so I’ll either just leave them in, or just take them out and comb them, but not rebraid my pigtails; I leave that for some time before bed. But I don’t always have the energy to do it then, either.

And I don’t mean bored or anything like that, I mean I am fucking EXHAUSTED after combing out my hair and/or rebraiding it, especially my arms. The stamina my arms have for staying up in the air doing things is not very long. Frequent breaks are needed.

More )
fayanora: by lj user holdonbaby (Elle looks up)
“Little Spark”
By = Tempest Alexandria Arts/Fayanora (Tristan A. Arts)

Take that little ember, take that little spark
And pull it on up and out of the dark.
Cup it in your hands and set it on some wood,
Gently blow upon it; yes, that's good.
Now watch that little spark grow into a blaze,
Flourishing under your compassionate gaze,
Til it becomes an inferno twenty feet high,
A tornado of flames reaching into the sky!
For this is the power of your inner spark,
Once you pull it on up and out of the dark.
fayanora: Elle Fanning by LJ user bitemeee (Elle Fanning)
Went to the clinic today, on an appointment I made just this last Monday. Got an antidepressant to try, called Paxil. Just $4, which I can deal with. I have another appointment in two weeks, and some kind of eligibility appointment for tomorrow, not really sure what that's about.

While there, I also had my blood sugar tested because I was worried I might have diabetes. Well the test came back in the normal range, so I'm satisfied for now.

That reminds me, the doc wants me to do a blood draw to test and make sure some of my depression symptoms aren't something like a thyroid disease. Maybe 1% of me agrees this might be a good idea, the other 99% of me is like "ALL ABOARD THE NOPE TRAIN TO FUCKTHATVILLE!" Needles AND blood, in the same go? HELL NO is nowhere near a strong enough response.

One last thing: apparently, as a result of the sleep test I did ages ago, OHSU said I had sleep apnea and needed a c-pap. This was news to me; last I'd known, they hadn't told me a damned thing. So apparently I'll have to make an appointment to go to this place in Gresham to see about getting a C-Pap. I hope Medicare will pay for the C-Pap, because if they won't, then I will not be able to have one because I can't afford to buy one.
fayanora: Steph Pensive (Steph Pensive)
Today is Thanksgiving. We're supposed to feel thankful for stuff. But to be honest, I can't think of anything. Well okay, I suppose I'm thankful that I have enough food to eat, and a place to sleep that's warm and dry. And I have friends, and activities to keep me busy. But it's not enough. The things that I can't feel thankful for kind of outweigh the good stuff.

I'm stuck in an apartment I haven't been able to afford to live in for over a year, bills are getting nearly impossible to manage, I have more debt than I think I can ever pay off, and because of my depression, I can't find the energy or state of mind to go looking for a cheaper place to live, if such an animal exists. It also keeps me from having the energy or drive to do my writing; not even poems. I also don't have the energy, most days, to do any chores I need to do. The few rituals I manage to do give me just enough energy to get through the days, or do some small chore if I'm really lucky. No matter what I'm doing, I feel like I'd rather be doing something else. When I sleep, I don't want to wake up, but if I sleep too long, I get more headaches than normal. When I wake up, half the days it takes me 15 minutes to decide what to eat because it takes that long to get enough of an appetite to actually make a decision.

I've been meaning to go to the clinic, take advantage of this expensive fucking Medicare shit to see about getting some anti-depressants, but I just find it so hard to get up early enough. I've even been unable to get up early enough to call the food bank for help.

What's worse, Ian - the head-mate to whom my ability to feel romantic love permanently bonded to for some reason - is never around, so I haven't had so much as a crush for months. Romantic love used to be a huge defining thing for me; I used to always have several crushes, fueling lots of poetry and art.

I feel like the depression is taking away everything that makes me who I am, and leaving this passionless shell behind. Fighting it just seems to speed up the process.

So how can I be really thankful for anything, when I feel so empty and hollow? The only passion I ever feel anymore is when one of us gets angry. Laughter helps me feel better for a short time, but it feels false, like some kind of drug that doesn't last more than a few minutes at a time.

God fucking dammit... there was a time, years ago, when I kept feeling highly angsty, driven to extremes of emotions by the tug-of-war between my passions and my depression. It was a roller-coaster ride, and I hated it. How could I have known that one day I would look back at those times with jealousy for my past self. When I was feeling both passion and despair at the same time, I was at least feeling something.

Happy frakking Thanksgiving everyone. Sorry for the downer post. I don't like talking about my depression on my blogs, I always worry I'll be percieved as attention-seeking, and I hate that because some people prattle on endlessly about their depression, and I usually assume those people are attention-seekers.
fayanora: pensive (pensive)
"Depression Is"
by= Tristan A. Arts

Depression is a constant, never-ending cycle of stress,
With lots of ups and downs.
The ups are not escapes, just reprieves,
As fleeting as a mayfly in the antarctic.

Depression is a background radiation of frustration,
Life is never good enough no matter how hard you try.
There's always something, even if it's just a feeling,
As hard to shake off as a psychotic stalker.

Depression is never having enough energy,
No matter how simple the task may be.
Even things I want to do, I can't,
Without a lot of breaks.

Depression is my emotions stuck on negative,
Stealing my ability to choose happiness.
Positive thinking doesn't help,
And affirmations only ring hollow.

Depression is NOT constant sadness;
Usually, it's a neutral state close to, or including, apathy.
Mixed, often, with stress, frustration, and general malaise,
Sometimes with good reason, but usually without.

Depression is like trying to drive a car
That is never in the right gear,
And there is no way to fix the "transmission"
Because nobody in the world even knows how it works.

Depression is being at constant war with your body,
Mysterious aches and pains coming and going all the time,
Because the TV ads have it correct:
Depression hurts.

Depression is a problem in the hardware of the brain,
Not in the software of the mind.
You can't just choose to be happy and normal,
Any more than you can read a CD with a muffler.

Depression is trying lots of different treatments,
That may or may not work, all with different side effects.
For all that scientists know about the brain,
Anti-depressants may as well be trepanning.

And most of all, depression is not a choice.
Telling me to "just get over it" doesn't help.
I can no more stop being depressed than
A cancer patient can just "choose" to be cured.
fayanora: Hit Girl (Hit Girl)
A few days ago, I was out and about and very very hungry. I went to Grocery Outlet and looked around a while, then bought a smallish bag of Lunchables brand chicken nuggets, honey BBQ flavor. I tried one, and it was the most vile thing I'd ever tasted. But I forced a little less than half of the things down my throat, because my stomach was demanding food like a barbarian warlord demanding blood. When I got home, I tossed the rest in the fridge, thinking I'd try them with some real BBQ sauce, see if the sauce could drown out the vile flavor of them.

I never got around to that. I was in a hurry to leave the house today, but hadn't had breakfast, and so despite the shudder of dread that passed through me as I did it, I grabbed the vile chicken nuggets with me for my breakfast. I put one in my mouth, fully expecting them to taste as wretched as they had a few days ago, and was very shocked, therefore, to find that... it wasn't bad. In fact, it was even somewhat tasty. Not the most wonderful thing ever, but edible, even yummy.

This confused me, I must admit. I tried another, and another. Yes, the taste was different. I examined the bag, and the nuggets, and my memories, but unless the Taste Fairies had transfigured them in the fridge, it was the same product. At first, I thought maybe the fact they were cold made them taste better, but then I remembered that they'd been from the fridge section of the store - and thus cold - to begin with. My confusion deepened. I examined my memories more thoroughly, and I finally came up with a bizarre but plausible explanation.

My memories showed me that I hadn't been feeling 100% the day I got them. This happens to me a lot; between the physical effects of my chronic lifelong depression (which is responsible for most of my ills) and the heat of the day I had gotten them, I'd been feeling headachey, exhausted, and generally cruddy.

Now, I'm no stranger to my depression-caused unwellnesses having weird effects on me. Some foods I can eat without problems when I'm feeling fine, like greasy foods and stuff with MSG in it, will cause me to get worse if I'm already feeling crappy. Headaches and neck-aches get more intense, exhaustion increases, I get uncomfortable and fidgety, and I develop nausea when I eat certain things at the wrong time. And I have enough experience with thinking I'm just fine, only to find out that I'm not, that I try to avoid greasy foods and MSG just in case.

However... if being ill this way actually caused something to taste foul one day and fine another day, then this is the first time it's ever happened to me, as far as I know of. Add this to the list of strange things that can happen to me.

And to give you an idea of the change in taste we're talking about, when I first tried these chicken nuggets, they tasted like a strange, sweetish cross between soggy bread and cheddar cheese left on the counter in the sunlight for an hour, only worse. And now they just taste like slightly moist, breaded chicken nuggets.
fayanora: Martha and Ten by mischief89 (Martha and Ten)
(When I refer to these different parts of myself here in this entry, I am not talking in my usual context of multiplicity; I am talking in the context of parts of the whole collective that are within all of the different Faces.)

I don't often worry, but when I do worry, I do it oddly. If something comes up that is worrisome to me, and so start to worry, I will then shut it down because worry is a waste of energy and a part of me is of the belief that worrying about something will make it more likely to happen. But then, when I do this, there is interference from another part of myself that is of the belief that NOT worrying about worrisome things is bad; that part of me believes that worrying is actually a form of magick that banishes the worrisome thing. IE, when Brooke is taking too long to respond to a text message (she usually responds within minutes), I start to worry she's died. I try to shut that worry down, and the other part of me begins to worry that if we don't worry about the possibility of Brooke dying, that we will cause it to happen by not worrying. So it worries against my better judgment, until such time as I have evidence the worrisome thing is gone, as with evidence Brooke is still alive and well.

It's a habit that goes back to my childhood. I used to occasionally start worrying that the school would explode or something, and part of my superstition (as I would have called it at the time) was that by imagining the whole destructive scene in detail, that I would actually push away the probability of it happening. (And I still have a powerful imagination; I have long been able to imagine things in very realistic terms; my brain has seemingly always had an innate, instinctual understanding of the physics of this world, because the level of detail in such imaginary moving models has always astounded me. I remember the first time I realized how peculiar this was; at the time, I was watching purely imaginary water flow through a creek and down a small waterfall into a pool. I could see all the ripples in the water, their different shapes as determined by the rocks and movements of the water, the reflections, even the way the water jumped and sloshed around while falling down into the pool, as well as the eddies in the pool that resulted. Everything I imagine - when I can decide what it looks like - has that same level of realism, like I'm not actually imagining it, just playing a very high-definition recording of it. This could account, in part, for the occasional hyper-realistic dreams I have.)

It happened in other ways, as well; you know the old superstition "Step on a crack, break your mother's back"? Well... I wasn't often superstitious, but I would randomly suddenly begin to be superstitious or worrisome at times (more evidence of my multiplicity!), and when I was a kid, I misinterpreted that superstition as referring to the seams between pieces of sidewalk, as well as actual cracks. So when I was in one of those moods, I would take forever to walk anywhere, since I was avoiding every seam. What was worse were tiled floors. Wood floors didn't bother me, thankfully; they would have been impossible. But any floor with tiles large enough to have a whole foot in one, would be very problematic in those times I became superstitious.

Then there were the times when the superstition would flip; as powerfully true as I had once believed the above superstition, I would suddenly just as powerfully believe that NOT stepping on cracks/seams would cause the horrible thing to happen.

Speaking of tiled floors and such, whenever I see patterns of black and white tiles set on their corners (so that four of them create a diamond where the right and left tiles are either both black or both white, and the top/bottom ones are both the opposite color), I would always see those as a face. Or, in some cases, as Spider Man's mask.

Anyway, don't know why I thought of all this, but had to share.
fayanora: Memetically (Memetically)
Depression has a physical effect on me, and I never really realized it until I got to Portland. Of course, it's been one thing or another since moving here, adding to my stress level. Then I spent a few years sinking deeper and deeper into depression, nearly drowning in it. All that kept me going was my strength, and my faith, and Shao'Kehn. But about a year and a half after getting on SSDI, I still haven't recovered from that low point. It's like I grabbed onto a piece of driftwood, and there I float now, still in trouble but no longer drowning.

So I became aware of the spoon theory from online friends. And it is true of me, with my depression. Just going out to do stuff will leave me tired when I get home. Doing household chores used up too many spoons even when I was young. My parents used to think it was laziness, but it wasn't. Doing any kind of chore grates on my soul like running a cheese grater over my flesh, and drains me of energy. Any chore I do requires frequent breaks, and always has. And even then, just the thought of going through all that exhaustion is exhausting, meaning I often skip chores, sometimes leaving them to the point where I can't leave them anymore. And some other difficult tasks, like combing the detached hairs and tangles out of my hair, take more 'spoons' than doing dishes. (My hair has always grown so thick that, back when I was still getting haircuts, they had to use thinning shears on it.)

The dishes are currently on backlog, for that reason. But the other day, I managed to do my laundry and take out recyclables. The fresh air, which was cool but not too badly so, helped. Laundry and recyclables... sounds like such a simple task. But it was all I had the 'spoons' to do that day. And that much took some extra self-prodding to do. (Part of the difficulty was there were so many recyclables strewn about that I had to use the grabber tool to get at them all, and it took four trips to take them out there. Plus, the cardboard box stuff has to be flattened, and very few of the boxes for recycling were flat. That part of it is a major pain.) And that was on a *good* day, a day where I woke up without any pain or stiffness.

Now hopefully tomorrow I can do at least part of the dishes. Hopefully there will be no pain.
fayanora: Hermione not amused (Hermione not amused)
I don't have standard music tastes. I can't stand most popular music, even the classics. A lot of the "oldies" I hate because, like Christmas music, they've been played to - and beyond - death; played so many times I want to strangle people who play them. And a lot of classics are mediocre music anyway. And modern popular music is mostly crap, with a few exceptions (like Adele, who isn't even pop or rock or pop rock anyway).

But I'm here right now to talk about one song in particular, one that's tormenting me by going through my head ad nauseum: "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore." I have always detested this song, and I never understood why. It's so upbeat, and it's a love song! It made no sense why I hate it. Until today, when I finally figured out why: because the lyrics make it into a very vague song. The assumption is that it's a love song, right? Now, I don't have the whole lyrics laid out before me, as I'm writing this entry from home and I have no Internet there anymore, but the parts I remember are:

"I can't fight this feeling anymore... I've forgotten what I started fighting for... (blah blah) bring my ship into the shore, throw away the oar, forever."

So, with lyrics like that... take away the music, and is it still a love song? Or, as it seems to me, is it a song about a depressed man who has given up on life and is going to commit suicide now? That's the thing, it could go either way. And even the upbeat music doesn't decide it, not when there are traditions in some parts of the world (like a lot of Slavic regions) of putting extremely depressing lyrics to upbeat music. So yeah, I've pinned down why I hate that song.
fayanora: Sammi Hanratty classy (Sammi Hanratty classy)
Clinical depression is different for everyone, but in a lot of people, like myself, depression literally hurts. I, for one, have days where I feel fine and other days where I wake up with mysterious aches and pains that take all day and part of the next night to disappear completely, force me to change my diet because eating anything remotely greasy or processed makes me feel ten times worse, and drains me of energy. Then, too, some days I have endless energy while other days I get absolutely exhausted doing very little. And sometimes I can't get enough socialization in a day, and other days - or even the same day - I can suddenly feel like any socialization is like nails on a chalkboard. Depression is a full disease for me, and about all I can expect is the unexpected, the effects are so random.

Going back to the aches and pains... I used to think it was how I was sleeping, but now I'm pretty sure it's just fucking random, as far as I can tell, because I can't control how I sleep. I roll around so much at night, without even being aware that I'm doing it usually, that really, what am I supposed to do about it? Also, I tend to wake up to the same thing every day: IE, my head with the same amount of stuff under it. But some days I get headaches, and other days I don't. Also, some days I get neckaches and/or backaches but not headaches. Those aren't pleasant either, but it's the headaches that really fuck me up. Oh, and other days I wake up just fine and develop a headache anyway. Had that problem the other day.

Oh wow.

Aug. 30th, 2010 06:17 pm
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
I was reading something on Cracked earlier, and came across this (emphasis mine)

That's the positivity effect. Happy memories tend to remain in your mind in more vivid details, while negative memories fade

Now, you probably have a moody friend who is scoffing at this, because he can spout a long list of ways life has wronged them over the ears. Or, maybe you're that friend.
That process doesn't work in people suffering from depression. They tend not to remember vivid details of memory at all, exchanging it instead for just a vague memory of how lame everything is all the time because their life just sucks and stuff. (Link)

Gee, I have had depression to some degree or another since I was about 5 or 6. My childhood memory is a blur, with a scattering of vivid memories remembered out of order. My memory of the rest of my life isn't much better. I wonder if this is why.
fayanora: SK avatar (Default)
It was easy, with the massive stress relief caused by getting an income finally (I got disability benefits!), to think I'd made some huge progress healing. But just because I'm not drowning anymore doesn't mean I'm not still struggling. But now I have real proof I'm still depressed. Second day in a row I've overslept because of what I call "Dream addiction." (Being aware and awake enough to know I should wake up, being asleep enough to keep dreaming anyway.) Then when I finally woke up, I stayed in bed for maybe half an hour with "inertia," IE not wanting to do anything at all, even getting up, even though I was fully awake.

It doesn't help that the headache from last night is still hanging around (albeit almost gone) despite pain relievers every 4 to 6 hours.

Overloaded

Apr. 27th, 2009 08:54 pm
fayanora: Magneto (Magneto)
My level of caring about the troubles of others has become intellectual-only, because I'm so overloaded with my own emotions about my own situation that I can't take any emotions about anyone else's situation. So two of my LJ friends in particular I kind of tune out as much as I can get away with in regards to their situations. The internal "valve" that cuts off the flow of negative emotions when they become too overwhelming is pretty much on all the time now, and is over capacity - stuff is leaking through. I know this isn't healthy and can't continue forever, but I'm doing such a shit job of making it through this crap as it is that I wouldn't get anything done at all - even eating - if I didn't shunt away these negative emotions. As it is, doing a single application feels like climbing Mount Everest... I get so exhausted from just one of those damned things now that I can't do anything else all day long.

I seriously NEED a job. Not just for money, at this point, but for mental and emotional reasons. A lot of people might be like, "yay no work!" but me, I'd rather have a job, even if it didn't pay anything. Having a job is tolerable and even enjoyable for me... not having one, and having to look for one, is a draining drudgery that's taking more out of me than I have to give.

Maybe I can actually get that Oregon Health Plan form filled out. I have to find it first, though. Then comes the fun times of filling it out. Job applications wear me out, and government forms make me feel naseus nauseus ill. But I must do it. I need to escape this cycle of "have job"/"lose job"/"look for job." Because really, I don't fit any part of the cycle. Looking for a job is beyond exhausting, losing a job is devastating to my self esteem, and while I like the ritual and routine of having a job, I just don't understand people and they don't understand me. I need out of this cycle. But in the meantime I NEED A FRAKKING JOB! YOU HEAR ME, UNIVERSE!?!

I need to figure out how to make interrobangs on the Net.

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