The other day I had my first panic attack in months. It took me awhile to figure out what was going on, because I’ve had them so infrequently in recent years. At the height of my disorder, I had half a dozen panic attacks every day. I’ve reached a point where I think of a panic attack the same way I think of a headache or papercut, and I guess this is what recovery feels like.
Didn’t mean to start futbol/football shit on my Facebook, but I got super-pissed at the guy who started commenting. We used to be really good friends. In college, he oversaw my education in the various genres of metal. He was a satanist and taught me a lot about different religions.
Fast-forward to 2013, when he is on his second marriage and recently moved his blended family of 7 across the country because his god told him to. He’s a megachurch-attending, American-flag-waving, ultraconservative, racist, sexist believer in the superiority of the United States.
How does such a thing even happen?
Looking forward to a weekend of hermiting! I cancelled my social plans tonight because either I’m having an allergy attack, or I caught a mild cold. In either case, I’m not up for doing anything but chilling at home.
I miss the foster kitty a little less every day. I’ve fostered before and I always get a little attached. I know she’s in a good home.
Just some things.
- My cat just hauled ass across the room to jump into her box. She’s currently bathing, and all I can see is this black furry foot sticking out of the box.
- Every now and then, when I’m alone, I bust out a sweet dance move and wish I had the confidence to dance in front of other people because damn I have some sweet dance moves.
- I finally got my boobs measured. Turns out my girls fit most comfortably in a 36D and I have no idea what to do with this information except to be kind of proud.
Maybe one day I’ll meet a nice guy and I’ll avoid revealing too much about myself and he’ll actually love me.