There was a meeting on and I took my notebook and pen. I left the meeting having used the pen to take notes then stopped at a grimy underused toilet on the way out.The pen fell out of my pocket onto toilet tiles.I chew pens; I knew I would chew this one. I kept it in my pocket until I got off the bus then held it tightly until I got home then binned it. I successfully did not masticate the toilet pen.In a world of small victories this has been one of them.
Articles from Harrangue Man
You're not meant to feel this way, epic. That belongs to myth and legend. Epic doesn't even mean great, it means epic. Epic lows are epic low; epic highs are sometimes just the absence of the low. As in "Hooray! I don't feel like warmed over shit!"It's a grind, a sisyphean toil and it's hard. To win is to grab a breather before the rock rolls back down. It's worth it though; for the only way to lose is not to play.WFTW.
The Netflix baking show Nailed It! has a panic button and siren. I knew that it had one but I was not watching when it was pressed and the baking show screamed at me.I yelled "Ahhhhh!" in a counter melody.Baking shows can come with hazards for the PTSD peeps---such as a bright red panic button that when triggered will cause that viewer to also panic.Just for a moment; I didn't trigger and cry at cake-based scaring. But I got a jolt.This has been "Fun with PTSD" meets family viewing.
I have a bunch of fun stuff pinned to the walls of my shed with magnets, such as my hilarious trail of documents of meaning and worth combined with certificates from day long courses I attended as a white collar worker. There's newspaper clippings I've been sent or have kept and artwork I did that I found when rooting amid the remains of my working life pre-injury. It's all joyful stuff. Until, of course, it is not.
It was high school—or uni. There was an exam the next day and I had not done any of the coursework. I was panicked and other students were offering what would be on the test when I was abruptly woken, drenched in "I HAVE FUCKED UP" fear and asked if we could buy a TV series on iTunes. I said yes and dropped back down but sleep was stolen and the flood of terror was still through me.
In Oz our pool balls are known as "Bigs" and "Smalls" with "Bigs" being the striped ball and "Smalls" the one without the stripe. In our chickens we have the same; the "Bigs"—the survivors of the fox attack—and the "Smalls" who are adult-sized Bantams, Silkies and a Polish Scruff but which are physically smaller than the surviving adults.Today I let them mingle.
I made theboy laugh by making fun of a TV show that had failed on a basic reality and I compared it to them doing a show about his school but where there was a year eight kid in class smoking and one of theboy's mates down the back inexplicably with his shirt off.He was in hysterics so I said "I've been Mikey; have a great day" then left through the sliding door and walked off. I only stopped when he said "...
I wasn't paying attention to the YT-through-the-TV show theboy was watching about animation so didn't understand what was happening when he span around in place then yelled "BAAAAAAAAAAA" at me like a demented sheep.I got spooked and said not to do that again then he explained it wasn't a mad sheep but a happy sponge in pants of square and he was trying to do the voice.Later he warned me before trying again and now I could hear the SpongeBob in it and also it was fired towards the TV and not
When it comes to assessing motivation for behaviour you reflect on examples. I nutted these through with my psych and she said the issue is for what you see as stand out examples of typical actions the other sees them as isolated, unconnected events that do not typify them.Like the adage a lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client if you're the one being assessed then you're going to be blinkered.
OCPD is not fun, though it makes me a better person. In addition to obsessive compulsion to do what I must I also pick my feet. Today I ripped a hole into the side and the bottom of my right foot.