Liese, I'm sorry about Seabiscuit.
Steph, a support group might be a good idea, certainly worth a try. My mom's dementia was the hardest thing I ever had to deal with. She went through a period where she would curse and hit. I couldn't really blame her for being angry. Good vibes to you and all your family dealing with Jack. The only thing you can know for sure is that things will change.
In me news, I'm dealing with my anxiety-induced complete inability to get anything done in the week before I travel. Now I'm down to two days left before I leave, and I'm not packed, the house is a mess (and I want to have at least the downstairs looking presentable for the petsitter), and I haven't gotten a haircut or a new phone like I wanted to. I could do all of it in two days, but I shouldn't have made myself have to, and doing that depends on, y'know, actually
doing something
at some point. It's a stupid problem to have! It makes me mad. All my problems could be fixed by just
doing the things
and I cannot. It's not just travel, I'm fighting this lack of ability to get anything done all the time, it's just that it's
important
to be able to pack for a nine-day trip sometime before three hours before leaving (while panicking and crying and desperately searching for that thing I thought was right there). I know it's anxiety and executive-function problems and I know where it comes from in my personal history, but none of that knowing fixes the damn problem. I hate myself for this and I feel so so stupid.
Liese, I'm so sorry for your loss.
Oh, Zenkitty! First: breathe. Second: can you do one thing? Like, pull out your shirts you want to bring, or clean the bathroom sink? Third: try not to beat yourself up.
Oh, Liese! So sad about the biscuit.
All friends: if you ever feel like your dreams are not reachable, I know a woman who went to divinity school in her 40s, possibly 50s, and just got called to a church! She is a slightly awkward lesbian, and I wasn't sure it would ever happen, so I'm kind of thrilled for her.
Zenkitty, everything Jesse said. I do the same thing before a trip, and I wish I lived closer so I could come by and help or at least keep you company. Would making a detailed list help?
Everything Jesse said!
(Thanks, Jesse! Especially for the dreams part, because I'm feeling old and useless and a little hopeless tonight.)
Zen, I have been in the exact same place, a list of thinks I *want* to do and me sitting in a chair crying because I can't bring myself to do them. I don't remember how I got myself to do things. I think eventually my normal self goes and hides in a mental closet and the Wolf Queen comes out and get things done.
Is it bad that I recognize multiple entities in my head and they have names and pictures?
My TV listings lied to me! The show called Wild West is actually about the American West, not British wackiness. Piffle.
Is it bad that I recognize multiple entities in my head and they have names and pictures?
No, it isn't. I wish my Wolf Queen would come out to help me, but she only jumps up for other people.
a list of thinks I *want* to do and me sitting in a chair crying because I can't bring myself to do them.
Exactly! The ADs have helped some, but this particular problem is more than depression. I don't know what to do.
I always think of that Hyperbole and a Half comic about depression where she's talking about trying to tell herself not to be sad. I feel like that when I know there's something I need to be doing, and yet I'm not doing it. I say, "Get up, self, and just do the thing. It won't even be that hard." But self doesn't listen.
My whole life is me not doing things that I should be doing. You got this, Zen. Also what Jesse said.
and I said something along the lines of people being terrible and then I felt totally awkward because of his wife basically being one of those people being terrible and, um, that's striking me as funny. Just, like, does Miss Manners cover this?
Unless his wife goes around saying all the terrible things she wants to do to people who go to UT, I think you have legit wiggle room to say that she's not who you meant. Although if she's secretly who you meant, well, we won't tell.