Stupid Yoga for My Stupid Mental Health

 It's the most beautiful part of September at the moment; blue skies, low 40 degrees Fahrenheit in the mornings and the leaves are slowly changing colors (like a long tease - like god-fearing leaves, not those ones from years ago that just shook themselves off branches like hussies). So that's good.

Seven Minutes in (Therapy) Heaven

Me:  Why is it always seven minutes?

Other part of my brain: Because seven is a divine number. You know this.

There are parts of me that really relish scheduling. All the moving parts and when things work out. Even when things feel a little sketchy (or I am concussed and PMSing and hella irritated because of both) there is a part of me that sort of serenely says, "Uh...I think it'll probably work out." And these days, because I have failed forward for 38 years and counting, that part is usually right.

The concussion: mostly nausea, brain fog, lessening of social filters and sequencing ability as regards things like spelling/typing, increased irritability, I think my voice sounds different, etc. Sleep has been helping. Hydrating has been helping. But yeah, everything irritating feels Big Bad. Focusing on lectures/quizzes/studying is a little easier, so that's good, I guess?

Probably everyone else can tell, but only in a vague "What's up with her affect?" way. So strange.

I feel kind of like when I got on SSRIs after L's birth. But without the brain lightning. DIY SSRIs? Hardly.

I'm a little concerned I'll do or say something I'll regret. I'm less concerned about those things being invalid, because I know they're...true. Just usually not...elevated to this level of importance?

Anyway. Time to get a filling and do the skillion other things coming my way today.

Having a concussion...

 ...is exactly as shitty as I always thought it would be. Even if it's mild. Two massive thumbs down. Sigh.