Tag: anxiety

Wot I Saw Wednesday: Be Careful What You Wish For

Michael has tentatively started a new regular feature. I decided to interpret his Wot I Saw Wednesday as a forum for the worst of bad pictures. Unlike other photography forums, this is one where I can contribute a lot of quality material. Continuing in the mode of my first response to this challenge, here is

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Socially Awkward Is Just a Nice Word for Incompetent

I’m socially anxious and therefore socially awkward by default. But when I’m feeling low, awkward doesn’t come anywhere close to adequately describing my social interactions. Totally incompetent is a much more fitting expression here. Today it’s been one of these days. I thought a trip to the supermarket would cheer me up—because of Oreos. I always reward

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I’ve Been Panicking over a Cat Toy (Seriously)

I’m overworked. No, really, I’m always overworked but now I’m acutely overworked. That’s why I thought that before resuming work, I could grab a blogging break. Not a break from blogging but a break to blog. You know, so I could feel guilty afterwards for not having been working. Overwork is an awesome way to

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A Quiet Day: An Apocalypse Is Impending

It’s been such a wonderfully quiet day. No one called me, no one mailed me, no one came banging at my door in the misled belief that when I’m the concierge, I can set their problems and the world to rights. Only the cat has been disturbing me. She’s excited I didn’t leave her forever

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What I Was Doing When I Couldn’t Sleep

I have bouts of insomnia alternated by bouts of sleepomania. I don’t sleep when I’m too stressed out and I sleep all the time when I’m too stressed out. Yes, I’m aware it’s the same thing, it depends on what kind of stressed out exactly I am at the moment. Right now, I’m the kind

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How I Met My Father (and Nothing Happened)

My yesterday’s post concerning my anticipation anxiety (a fancy term for being preventively scared) about my father’s visit rose some questions. Such as, have I never met my father before? What’s wrong with my father? What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is it even all about? Let’s start chronologically. I grew up with both

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My Father Is Visiting and I’m So Scared

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me. —Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy My father is visiting tomorrow in the middle of the night. Specifically at 8 AM. This illustrates his

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