As the Lexapro dials back the chemical anxiety, my learned anxiety is, well, anxious for a reason to exist. I have blamed myself for random things I have no possible responsibility for for decades, and I've just stuffed it down and worked around it. When the anxiety rises, I try to convince it that it can retire now, go part-time, it doesn't have to lurk around like Hamlet's Ghost looking for purpose. I try telling myself that my thoughts aren't me, but I got into a nasty existential loop of "Well, then, who the hell am I?"

Painkillers are like so many other things -- extremely valuable when used properly, but extremely dangerous when used improperly. When my back has gone out, a little painkiller and/or muscle relaxant goes a long way. But it's a short-term fix, not long-term. Even after surgery, I've relied on less than the prescribed dosages after a couple of days.

Although to be fair, I've never had any long-term pain problems. And I don't know how I'd deal with long-term pain where no other fix was available.

Depending on the timeframe (up until early/mid-20th century), Grumpy Aunt Louise probably had access to laudanum, i.e. 10% opium tincture. She still probably was dependent on others to get stuff done, but she might not have cared so much.

On the days the migraines or the chronic pain are bad, I have been known to whine about the lack of laudanum in my life.

And in the "Am I being a lazy slacker, or is this depression/other brain chemical stuff" discussion: I have stuff to do for work. But after the back-to-back Disneyland and Vampire Ball events, I am so full of don'wanna. Tho' I suspect a good part of it is that I'm just really tired, and would like to go back to bed.

"Am I being a lazy slacker, or is this depression/other brain chemical stuff"

For me it's this, plus having too much to do sometimes, so I don't know where to begin. (Is that executive function stuff?)

And related to the dishwasher conversation, I literally just found two plates in ours, unrinsed, with General Tso's chicken sauce dried on them. Like those will ever come clean without someone at least rinsing and wiping them first. ::shakes fist at children::

I washed my dishes a little bit ago entirely because of this conversation.

Grumpy Aunt Louise is just going to have to live on the charity of family members, and she has to do it without Percocet or Neurontin.

Depending on the timeframe (up until early/mid-20th century), Grumpy Aunt Louise probably had access to laudanum, i.e. 10% opium tincture. She still probably was dependent on others to get stuff done, but she might not have cared so much.

Having laudanum would have helped a whole damn lot, but I am so grateful to be alive in the 21st century, because laudanum only deals with the pain, but it can't make you fully functional again like surgery does. Modern medicine is freaking amazing.

But, yeah, the current mindset of painkillers=bad due to the opioid abuse issue bothers me. Because we developed painkillers for good reasons—pain sucks and can ruin your life.

This is one of my huge soapboxes. Cincinnati has a big heroin problem, and the thing is, some addicts are patients with chronic pain who can't get painkillers from their doctors because modern medicine is also freaking stupid.

I alternate among thankfulness that I've come so far, frustration with what I'm still dealing with, and bitterness about how anxiety has affected every single aspect of my life to date.

With you on that, with ADHD and depression in place of anxiety. I can bounce between them pretty fast.

You are who thinks the thoughts, Connie. Which may or may not help, but it's something to think about. I rationally believe that there isn't really an "I" at the core of my being, but I don't emotionally feel it. But rationally thinking so can be a comfort.

Like those will ever come clean without someone at least rinsing and wiping them first.

Cascade Platinum, y'all. It's amazing.

Poor Aunt Louise.

Aunt Louise deserves a hug, but she'd probably wave her cane at us in annoyance.

I feel like she might enjoy a bit of trifle.