I decided to vent on something that has been bugging me for a while now.
I explain what I am talking about here :
Like I said in the vid, I don’t think the term is doing a great deal of harm. And I am sure there are millions of people in the world right now who have taken some comfort in the much more serious and attention demanding diagnosis of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder rather than boring, vague terms like depression.
I mean, everyone gets depressed. But PTSD, only soldiers and massacre survivors and people like that have that!
Which is, in fact, my point. They have it. You don’t.
In other words, I am being my usual tightass self about language and logic. I know intellectually that these things don’t actually matter much, but they bug me.
We all have our little peeves, I suppose.
Today’s been decent. No fresh health complaints, which is nice. Had a good wholesome turkey dinner at Denny’s last night, which was nice.
Wednesday is Deposit Day, so I am at the end of my money. But it’s no big deal. I still have $36 left on my card and 8 bucks in cash. I’ll be fine.
There will be a petty awkwardness tomorrow night when I would usually be giving Julian $20 to cover the McD’s meal he will be fetch for me, to be eaten while he and I and Felicity and hopefully Joe will be hanging out on Zoom.
Call it a Covid Dine-In Experience.
Well I don’t have the cash this time. I guess I paid cash when I should have used the card for Denny’s last Sunday night. So I will have to get creative.
Luckily I have a plan B prepared for just such a contingency. What I will do is order something online from somewhere in the neighborhood (probably Pizza Hut) and get Julian to pick it up for me.
I say probably Pizza Hut because unlike nearly everywhere else besides Superstore that I order from, I actually know where it is.
It’s like two blocks away.
Tomorrow is Tuesday, my Big Day. Wound Care then exercise at the Kinsmen center.
So, also Xanax of course.
Though I wonder if there will come a point in the future where the place and the people and the activities will become so familiar to me that I don’t need the Xanax.
I mean, it’s not like I need a Xanax to go to Wound Care at the CHAC. Heck, I am so casual about that place now that sometimes I don’t even slow down to check in.
I just say, “Hey Megan!” as I rollate past her and she says “Hello!” and then marks me as present on the computer.
It’s a system that works.
In fact the original point of Doc Costin giving me the Xanax prescription was to allow me to get out there in the world and have some positive social interactions without my crippling social anxiety screaming like an enraged banshee in my ear.
So much of my life has been spent desperately trying to stay focused on the here and now despite the massive panic attack I was having without even knowing it.
As far as I knew, that’s just what life was like. You went around in a constant state of low level panic, occasionally spiking up to full on freaking out, until you finally get home and away from everyone else and can finally relax.
No wonder I have isolated myself so much and been so withdrawn. With a setup like that, it’s not a matter of choosing to be alone, it’s being driven to the solitary life by the baying hounds of mental illness.
In my heart of hearts, I’d rather be with people I love having a good time. I am happier when I am being social. When happy social times end, part of me is always sad to have to go back into my sorry assed coffin of a fucking life.
I need to hang on to that truth and let it change me.
Maybe it can set me free.
More after the break
Curry at last
Well that’s my last ever order from Tandoori Oven.
Because the curry I ordered last Saturday night has bones in it. Big chunks of bone. Just like the previous time I ordered from them.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this could happen twice, but I am starting to think for them, bones in the lamb curry aren’t a bug, they’re a feature.
Maybe there’s a culture out there where if their lamb curry doesn’t have bones in it, they assume it can’t be fresh.
Or maybe there’s people out there with the excellent dental hygiene to crunch the chunks of bone like they’re popcorn and these people would be telling me, “But the chunks of bone are the best part!”.
I tried to put in a complaint and get a refund but they don’t offer refunds more than 24 hours after the purchase.
Oh well. At least I got to vent about it.
But I am sure as fuck never ordering from Tandoori Oven again. Fuck those people. They are clearly operating on a set of rules with which I violently disagree.
At this point, I am mostly angry because those huge chunks of bone took up space where more lamb curry should have gone.
Here’s the evidence :
So in general. my entire experience with ordering in last Saturday night has been unpleasant, although only this extra calcium business is Tandoori Oven’s fault.
Oh well. Sometimes life just decides it wants to fuck with you and all you can do is do your best to roll with the punches and land on your feet with some dignity intact.
At least the bone free parts of my curry were pretty good.
I mean, it’s lamb curry. It’s hard to screw that up.
But somehow, they managed it. TWICE.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.