This mid-afternoon, I received a humbling reminder of why I'm on disability.
I've been text-banking for the Democrats and the Galloway campaign. We started on a different campaign with a different procedure. I hit a mental wall, was unable to understand what I knew were simple instructions. Subsequently, I had an anxiety attack. I had to tell the supervisor I couldn't finish the text batch, I logged off, and threw myself into bed.
I've been text-banking for the Democrats and the Galloway campaign. We started on a different campaign with a different procedure. I hit a mental wall, was unable to understand what I knew were simple instructions. Subsequently, I had an anxiety attack. I had to tell the supervisor I couldn't finish the text batch, I logged off, and threw myself into bed.
This hadn't happened in so long, I let myself think I was finally over them. My constant efforts to avoid these events, have steered my life since early childhood. They've closed off whole friendships and life-options. The first time I had one was drawing a picture in kindergarten. I never tried to draw again. They've buried me under passivity, depression, and shame.
This time, unless I can pull myself together, this might cancel all my plans for political volunteering for the next month.
That I'm cracking under the stress of this election--it's critical importance, and all of its bizarre twists and turns--has occurred to me.
This time, unless I can pull myself together, this might cancel all my plans for political volunteering for the next month.
That I'm cracking under the stress of this election--it's critical importance, and all of its bizarre twists and turns--has occurred to me.
UPDATE 10/17/20: I recovered from that crisis by later that same day. It's incredible what a long nap does for me. I also have to give credit to my regimen of psych meds. But man, things looked terrible for a few hours.
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