Anxiety

A 22-post collection

Challenge #02583-G026: Ma Yub

There are two kinds of parents. There's the kind that thinks their children should have the experiences that they had when they were a child, and there's the kind that thinks their children should have something better than that.

The problem with being that second kind, I've found, is that it's hard to give your children something better when you don't really know what that looks like. -- Anon Guest

Bringing up the next generation of cogniscent life is never easy. Certainly, the basic caretaking falls into a pattern. Clean, dress, feed, and hold. Communication in all its forms tends to take place anyway. It's after the child surpasses the basic needs that the trouble begins, because education will occur whether the parent thinks they're doing it or not.

The two primary patterns of parenting are Sharing, and Expansion. Sharing includes all the good experiences of the parental childhood into the experiences of the child. Expansion improves on the past of the parent, so that the child has a better life. Easy for some.

Dan knew that he couldn't Share. Not his childhood, with the terrible neglect and the yelling and the harsh blows for the least infraction. The shouted, "Did that teach you? Did that teach you?" with his parents looming over him. It taught him, all right. It taught him things that it took years of therapy to get over. It taught him what not to do with an iron rod and the threat of hellfire. He was, he hoped and prayed, the very last of the Abused Generation, doing his utmost to see that his children could not ever suffer. So far, so good. It was the next step that had him baffled.

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AUGH!

I will not ask what else can go wrong, because it more or less has. My car is due to go to the repair people today. That's going to cost a honkload.

Also:

  • I can't start Audacity - the program I use to edit my episodes of Inter-Mission [have no fear, there is a new episode today and there are like three more waiting in the wings]
  • One of the cats broke down the pet door that was their only safety from
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Almost Done!

I've been doing 1K a day so I have all the more time for other projects and worldbuilding for my next WIP.

Speaking of WIP's, I have made a beginning on editing Ep4 of Inter-Mission. Which means I'm one episode closer to actually publishing these mofos. If I put them out on non-game-night Fridays, I have an occasion I should easily remember.

Should is not is. In this case, 'should is not will'. It's not a guarantee, it's more of a hope.

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Challenge #02302-F112: Dire for Dairy

"Just go out and do it, it's not that difficult."

"I mean, everything is difficult when you have anxiety, so yeah." -- Anon Guest

Everyone thinks anxiety is just being nervous. Just go down to the shops and buy a thing of milk, is not that easy. For an anxious person... it's more like this:

First, one must prepare for the journey. Supplies checked twice and preparations for the journey ahead inventoried thrice. Once that is done, the brave must face the

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Mondays...

Another five days of grind are looming ahead. Another five days of slog and hoping for a decent time window to put my dreams even one baby step ahead.

I tried to have time off on the weekend and failed at that. I'm always putting aside my plns for other nonse. Other people's plans are way more important than my need to faff off.

Except...

Except I feel really worn out in the soul because it feels like I'm not getting enough

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Once More Into the Breach...

Mayhem is, once again, feeling poorly. Though he has apparently been suffering for three days, he decided not to mention anything until this morning. Showing a timing worthy of the typical Monday-itus.

He did throw up, though, which is my usual bar to pass for staying at home. Same with a fever.

Good luck for me - he's seeing an expert in digestive issues tomorrow, so we should get some form of resolution this time. Huzzah. And if we don't get a

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Kitten plus Disco Ball == me

So many Gottas. So many Dunwannas.

I gotta:

  • do this blog
  • instant story
  • 500 words
  • house cleaning
  • send off a copy of Adapting to Baen Books

I Dunwanna do any of those. I'd much rather wind up that one fic that's been possessing my soul for months now. And then start posting it so I can revel in the suffering of others.

I'd much rather nap all day because wet and miserable weather. And have hot soup and fanfic in-between bingeing my

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Welp. That's Me Fucked Up

It's already Wedensday and the odds of me working on SESP at all are... low.

And I really need to look after myself rather than fret about what I'm not doing.

BUT....

Because anxiety, I gotta fret anyway. Which drains the personal batteries. Which leaves me less energy for doing the thing. Which lowers the odds of thing-doing even further. Which increases the guilt for not doing the thing.

::Windmills of Your Mind plays in the background::

I need permission to just

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Time Flu

I don't know what's going on with me, but it might be interesting to look into it. My batteries are regularly drained by the end of the day. Protein doesn't help. Sugar certainly won't. Having a meal doesn't quite get me back up there, but the willingness to cook it is missing.

Yay.

I probably have the morbs plus anxiety because trying to sell Adapting is getting to me. That and the fact that I'm only halfway towards the Lappy of my

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Finishing Season

Seems to be the time of year for finishing stuff up. I'm 1500 words away from the end of Clockwork Souls and I've just-last-night reached an ending for my fanfic, Crime and Punishment.

I'm going to ponder which fanfic I'm doing next because I can't not write. There's a few juicy ideas I have excerpts for. I just need to pick the shiniest one.

Announcements when that happens, of course.

Today's another cleaning day, and having our new toy means that all

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Challenge #01720-D259: High Alert Level

I may be a coward, but I will not let that define me. -- RecklessPrudence

My name is Val, and I'm afraid. Every day, every minute, all I can think of is the worst possible consequences that result from my actions. You might call it anxiety. I don't think it's anything as mild as that. I have a mechanical clock as an alarm, because what if the power fails in the night and all the electronic stuff doesn't work? I sterilise my

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OMG it's too late

I tried asking. I tried explaining. I tried flat-out telling my Beloved to do the thing.

Beloved.

Just WON'T.

Help.

Unfuck the garage.

I told them, because the cleaning company told me, that any extra time on the unfuckening in there would end up costing us more than the usual. I did not tell Beloved that I'd already taken money out of the other bank account to cover the cost of tomorrow.

Maybe I should have. I still have today. So does

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Smooth mornings!

Hooray, I have life figured out enough that the mornings move like a well-oiled machine. Now, if only I could do the same thing for myself.

Alone, I clog up with fascinating things until a half-hour task takes most of the firkin day. And then I complain about having zero time to fart around and play games.

Sometimes, I am a complete dummins.

But I have learned a few things from some of it. Including a new word that I plan to

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Swing and a miss

Just when I get into the swing of things, the pendulum shifts and everything goes agley all over again.

Beloved is taking off in the early-early morning, before I can even badger the kids into getting their lunchboxes together. Which means no morning exercises. Which means finding a time in the afternoon to go do it.

Which hasn't happened, so far.

Tomorrow evening, we should be walking around the blocks, again. Starting with the long block and, if we can, going around

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Deep sigh...

I'm having a hump day. Very much aware of all the things I really should get done but also depend on the actions of others.

I need to get Adapting out to my beta readers. Or that writing group who could allegedly help if they didn't hate science fiction. BUT - I need Beloved to get it reader-ready because nobody but your own, strange and humble martian actually uses Pages for the Mac. [And even then, not for much longer. I'm now

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