Thinking Writing Ninja

I’ve Got Some Good News And Some Bad News

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Good news: my anxiety is doing so much better, and I’m managing to get a sane number of hours of sleep per night. Win!

Bad news: I can only get to sleep at 3am, and my motivation has plummeted along with my anxiety. Looks like I was using anxiety to motivate myself…whoops. Not so win.

I’ve had both anxiety (pretty much constant and low-level, at least until I reached university) and insomnia (on and off) since as far back as I can remember. The interaction of the two causes multiple additional levels of suck, including More Anxious Because I’m Exhausted, Anxiety About My Insomnia Is Giving Me More Insomnia, and I’m So Scared And Tired And Sick Of This; Maybe I Should Just Stay In Bed Today.


This is not actually me, but someone from an “erase dark circles” ad. Whose dark circles aren’t as bad as mine, go figure.

In an attempt to break the cycle of suck (and, in my own small way, decrease World Suck)*, I went back on Citalopram, my anxiety medication, which I really shouldn’t have come off in the first place because although I was better than where I started, I still wasn’t, uh, better. Pros: Sleeping is easier, and my anxiety is obviously loads better. Short-term cons: It does funny things to my stomach initially, and makes me kinda lethargic.

Long-term cons:…it looks like I’m completely unequipped to go about life without anxiety. I’m going to have to learn from the ground up, people. I have gone from “must do dishes, must do ALL the dishes, and indeed ALL THE HOUSEWORK otherwise, I don’t know, the world will end or something. Yes, I’m allowed to have a break when I’m too exhausted to stand, but only after 3 attempts to make sure I really can’t stand.” to “Eh. Dishes. I’m kinda tired, I guess I’ll just do them later.” Bonus points for how lethargic I’m feeling.

I don’t really know how to sensibly decide how much stuff to do, and what’s important,  without that voice in my head insisting that if I don’t just keep doing stuff then, I don’t know, everyone I know will call me to shout at me or something.

Also I’m pretty sure I sortof burnt myself out with the DO ALL THE THINGS enthusiasm and now just want to sit and play Alice: Madness Returns on my Xbox and not talk to anyone except Kaitie.


Alice: Madness Returns is a creepy re-imagining of Alice in wonderland and it’s *awesome*

For further details of how this cycle works (and also confirmation that, hey look, other people find life hard, too!) see This Is Why I’ll Never Be An Adult.

I don’t honestly know what my capacity for doing stuff is right now, and that’s probably my biggest problem (other than thoughts like, eh, I don’t need food *that* much**).

Anyway I have a job centre appointment at 11.30am tomorrow. And while that’s scary (and also early considering that all attempts to fix my sleep schedule only resulted in more insomnia, and now I wake up at about 12pm), it’s also a decent source of external motivation. Which is the only sort that seems to be working right now, so I’ll take all the external motivation I can get.

But I am bearing in mind that all this stuff is actually the result of a positive change (much less anxiety) – it’s just that I’m going to need to do some serious debugging before I’m working properly again because all my nice routines and habits have fallen to bits and today’s productivity meter reads “Did Some Dishes” and nothing else. But that’s okay. Yesterday’s was blank, and tomorrow’s will be even better (I hope).

Ninja hugs,


*See vlogbrothers, nerdfighteria RIGHT NOW and don’t come back until you know what DFTBA means. I’ll wait. Tangentially: why do I find it easier to make things better for myself if I reframe it as decreasing the net world suck?

**fortunately this time around I have to make food for Kaitie, who finds cooking hard and anxiety-inducing and eating triggering and difficult, and so if I don’t make food she doesn’t eat nearly enough or have, like, adequate nutrition. The last time I had thoughts like this I lost half a stone completely by accident.


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