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Note to Self: When you are in the depths of being shouted at by the Brain Raccoons AND the Body Image Demons, you probably shouldn't go browsing photos of Fancy Goths TM to come up with outfit ideas for Vampire Ball.
Yeah, that's what I foolishly did last night.
Some context: Thursday night, I had a non-stop array of anxiety dreams and straight-up nightmares. Which means on Friday I woke up with exhausted, and with my brain/emotional chemistry all fucked up. I wisely tapped out of work. Well, after I mentioned in the private team channel that I hadn't slept well and I may be slow to respond to things and my entire team rose up to tell me to take the day off, boss, you always tell us to rest G-Ddammit. (My team, good peeps.)
But Thursday's sleep movies set the pattern for Friday and Saturday's, which meant I felt increasingly fragile through the weekend, even tho' I was resting, indulging in comfort media, and trying to be gentle with myself. By last night, I was tearing up at anything and everything, then I decided to look at pretty people in fancy outfits, and then I had the "I don't like anything about myself" stage hit. (Those are rare, but when they do hit, they hit hard.)
The Stroppy One came downstairs for something, took one look at me being a weeping mess, hugged me, worked on convincing me that my brain was being a lying asshole, and then ordered me to go soak in the tub. And came upstairs to set Clovis on the bathroom counter to keep a consoling gaze on me while I soaked.
I feel ... slightly better today? And I think I figured out what my outfit for VMB will be, so now I need to wave my terrible sketch at the Stroppy One and the Madwoman in the Attic, then order many yards of dupioni silk.
But UGH. I really hate my brain chemistry right now.
Yeah, that's what I foolishly did last night.
Some context: Thursday night, I had a non-stop array of anxiety dreams and straight-up nightmares. Which means on Friday I woke up with exhausted, and with my brain/emotional chemistry all fucked up. I wisely tapped out of work. Well, after I mentioned in the private team channel that I hadn't slept well and I may be slow to respond to things and my entire team rose up to tell me to take the day off, boss, you always tell us to rest G-Ddammit. (My team, good peeps.)
But Thursday's sleep movies set the pattern for Friday and Saturday's, which meant I felt increasingly fragile through the weekend, even tho' I was resting, indulging in comfort media, and trying to be gentle with myself. By last night, I was tearing up at anything and everything, then I decided to look at pretty people in fancy outfits, and then I had the "I don't like anything about myself" stage hit. (Those are rare, but when they do hit, they hit hard.)
The Stroppy One came downstairs for something, took one look at me being a weeping mess, hugged me, worked on convincing me that my brain was being a lying asshole, and then ordered me to go soak in the tub. And came upstairs to set Clovis on the bathroom counter to keep a consoling gaze on me while I soaked.
I feel ... slightly better today? And I think I figured out what my outfit for VMB will be, so now I need to wave my terrible sketch at the Stroppy One and the Madwoman in the Attic, then order many yards of dupioni silk.
But UGH. I really hate my brain chemistry right now.
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