Proud of myself for actually tackling a problem in an adult way and seeing it through to its resolution today.
The problem is that the password I had for my online banking at VanCity didn’t work. And I need to access my online banking for reasons of things like setting up my “tip jar” on Ko-Fi and such.
But, showing what, for me, is an unusually high level of perspicacity and general awareness, I thought to get this sorted out when I did my monthly banking today.
A quick password reset by my teller and now I am back in control, despite the fact that it was supposed to send an SMS to my cell but called the landline instead.
Whatever my teller did to update my number clearly did not work.
However, I thought to answer the call, and an automated voice gave me the one time code I needed, so it all worked out.
So now I should be able to get things like Ko-Fi and Stripe working and from there, who knows what magical doorways I will unlock.
Maybe I will even be able to get my PayPal working.
I’ve been playing around with this app called JustPlay which supposedly pays you real money to plan their video games.
And maybe it does, but as you can imagine, the cash accumulates quite slowly. So it will be a while before I accumulate enough winnings for it to be worth it for me to bother cashing out, and one of the main ways of doing THAT is via PayPal.
Right now I have a mighty and awe-inspiring $2.67 in my account. And that’s from playing their games for a couple of hours.
A job it ain’t.
At least their selection of games is good. They seem to have a knack for knowing which mobile games deliver the most addictive fun from a very simple setup.
I feel like I’m missing something. Oh right, today’s vid.
I was tempted to just keep going with all of my science fiction beefs around things like the Vulcans and time travel and teleportation and so on, but I decided that I would save those for future videos.
This morning I went to Wound Care, and I showed the nurse my very fucked up (by me) right foot, and she bandaged up all three wounds, and told me that they did not seem to be infected so as long as I keep them covered up and dry, they should heal on their own, and a trip to Urgent Care was not needed.
Phew! That would have been a pain.
I feel great shame about how I fucked up my own damn foot by compulsively peeling off the dead skin off it.
I mean, it’s natural to want to get rid of that shit. Dead skin is supposed to slough off, dammit, and when it doesn’t, we get itchy and we scratch.
Now you know where some of your random little itches come from.
But I took it to a frankly insane extent and all because it felt good to do it and because I have this crazy need to finish what I start.
It reminds me of this time when, as a kid, I was cleaning my glasses in the kitchen when I got some Windex on the wall and noticed that where the Windex landed, the wallpaper was suddenly MUCH brighter.
Intrigued, I sprayed some more on the wall, and wiped it off, and discovered that there was apparently a uniform layer of some kind of soot on everything.
I later figured out it was residue from our propane stove.
Turns out propane doesn’t quite burn cleanly. Sorry, Hank Hill.
Anyhow, intrigued by this magical find, I spray a bunch more at the wall and cleaned a big section and suddenly our “harvest” colored wallpaper (so yellow, orange, and brown) was all vibrating and glowing.
Well once I had started I had to finish. So I cleaned every wall in the kitchen as well as some of the cabinets, which took about an hour and a half.
Imagine my mother’s surprise when she came home to a kitchen that now looked like it was lighted by floodlights!
We’d forgotten that wallpaper was even yellow!
To be honest it was a bit much. Luckily it wasn’t that bright for long.
More after the break.
Remembering that I do things
Had therapy today. Talked to Doctor Costin. Told him how I seethed and burned with resentment and jealousy that he got to go to my fucking hometown for a nice vacation while I had to stay back here wishing I was there to hug my mom.
He found that amusing. Whatever.
I need a way to get back home so I can hug her while she’s still around.
Anyhow, one of the things that came up in therapy was my fighting of the false inner narrative that I “do nothing but play video games”.
Clearly that’s not true. I do this blog, I make videos. I might not get paid for any of it yet but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.
And yet the idea that I do nothing continues to feel true, and it’s from that feeling that the lie refreshes itself after I have suppressed it.
This is why CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) is so limited. The bad thoughts are expressions of real emotions and unless the emotions change, identifying the lies of mental illness is less than pointless.
You’re treating the symptoms, not the disease. How fucking futile.
I am a very damaged person. When I was raped as a toddler, it shattered me, and because that terrible injury was never treated in any way because I never told anyone about it, I think I healed the wrong way.
Like a broken limb healing without support or a cast, so it ends up fucked up and fused together and leaving the person crippled.
Well I’m an emotional cripple. And I always have been. I am a fragile, awkward, maladjusted, broken creature and it’s so hard for me to imagine being any different.
It’s like trying to imagine what it’s like to be dead.
All I can do is continue to try to heal and get a little bit stronger and a little bit more alive and awake every day, and do my best to cope with this crazy world and my twisted soul.
It’s a good thing I’m cute.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.