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.
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