Tag: personal

Depression Palate™ means most things don’t taste good unless they’re heavily spiced, but Anxiety Stomach™ produces too much acid and gives me indigestion when I eat spicy and/or acidic things.

At least cookie dough ice cream still tastes good.

Sent inquiries to 3 therapists about setting up an intake appointment. Also tried a meal-replacement shake – thanks to whoever made that suggestion. It doesn’t taste fantastic, but it’s calorie-dense and easy to swallow. I feel like one of those philosophy dorkbros who drink Soylent because they want to minimize time spent doing anything other than philosophy (I know, gross)… but it’s not that I don’t appreciate good food, I’m just having some issues right now.

I couldn’t even eat a whole sandwich for dinner, and it tasted fine… until it didn’t anymore. I don’t know what my problem is. Well, depression and/or anxiety, but I don’t know what to do about it. I’m worried that if I get my dose of medication increased that will only make it worse because SSRIs/SNRIs tend to suppress my appetite or make all food seem unpleasant to me even if I feel hungry.

I actually spent most of this afternoon outside getting that sweet sweet vitamin D (and a sunburn, oh well) and had several in-person human interactions. And I did do some things when I came home other than just watch “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” though I did some of that as well and now I’m out of episodes.

I actually went outside today and walked around and talked to other humans (not much) and it tired me out so much I just came home and ate dinner and watched “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” for 3 hours.

I have a problem. I have turned into a hermit. This is what happens when I move to a new city where I don’t know anyone and the school year hasn’t started yet.

philosopherking1887:

It’s been a weird and crappy day for cat-related things. The last dream I had this morning before I woke up involved a giant flying shark thing eating my cat. It’s kind of funny because I’ve been making a lot of jokes about that movie “The Meg,” since my cat’s name is Meg and she’s an avid hunter… but in the dream it was definitely not funny. In fact, it was so terrible that I realized it had to be a dream and I woke myself up so that I could see my cat (who sleeps on my bed with me).

Then this evening I couldn’t find my cat for a while and I was afraid she’d somehow gotten out, though I wasn’t sure how. I texted my mom because I’d checked all the usual hiding places and I was starting to get seriously worried. My mom called because she was driving and couldn’t text, and suggested some places to look, and eventually I found her hiding under the bed *and* behind the curtain that hangs down behind the bed (why, cat?).

But then my mom told me that she and my dad were on their way to pick up their cat from the vet, where he had gotten surgery to remove a mass under his tongue. It turned out to be an aggressive cancer, as the vet who found it had suspected. He might be able to get chemotherapy, but that might not even be doing him any favors, and he probably has a few weeks without it. He’s only about 9 years old.

I know it’s stupid, but it kind of feels like the dream was prophetic somehow. I mean, my parents’ cat isn’t my cat – they adopted him after I’d already moved across the country – but I visit often enough that I know him pretty well. I’ve even helped get mats out of his fur.

I spent an hour this morning when I should have gotten up just cuddling with my cat. Because you never know how much time you actually have.

It’s been a weird and crappy day for cat-related things. The last dream I had this morning before I woke up involved a giant flying shark thing eating my cat. It’s kind of funny because I’ve been making a lot of jokes about that movie “The Meg,” since my cat’s name is Meg and she’s an avid hunter… but in the dream it was definitely not funny. In fact, it was so terrible that I realized it had to be a dream and I woke myself up so that I could see my cat (who sleeps on my bed with me).

Then this evening I couldn’t find my cat for a while and I was afraid she’d somehow gotten out, though I wasn’t sure how. I texted my mom because I’d checked all the usual hiding places and I was starting to get seriously worried. My mom called because she was driving and couldn’t text, and suggested some places to look, and eventually I found her hiding under the bed *and* behind the curtain that hangs down behind the bed (why, cat?).

But then my mom told me that she and my dad were on their way to pick up their cat from the vet, where he had gotten surgery to remove a mass under his tongue. It turned out to be an aggressive cancer, as the vet who found it had suspected. He might be able to get chemotherapy, but that might not even be doing him any favors, and he probably has a few weeks without it. He’s only about 9 years old.

I know it’s stupid, but it kind of feels like the dream was prophetic somehow. I mean, my parents’ cat isn’t my cat – they adopted him after I’d already moved across the country – but I visit often enough that I know him pretty well. I’ve even helped get mats out of his fur.