It has been a very weird week. Last week I was so excited to get all my listings done for Comic-Con but what I didn't realize was how much it took out of me to do them. Not only did they take hours to complete, but I guess I still have some major Pandemic PTSD. I know I'm not the only one experiencing that, but I must've really screwed with my brain wiring by being on constant COVID watch for so many hours a day, day after day, for weeks, then months, then years. The more things I included, the more I thought about crowds and COVID and "what if I run out of water?" and "where are the best bathrooms in downtown?" and "where will I charge my phone?" These are all things I managed many times before the pandemic, but maybe we can't go back to who we were before? Any tendency I had to be a 'prepper' or 'hoarder' was exacerbated and when it came time to actually go to Comic-Con, I had a full-on night of insomnia which turned into a full on panic attack, curled into a ball on my bed, sweating it out with my heart feeling like it was gonna explode until I could get control of the stinkin' thinkin', manage my breathing and body, and finally sleep. Turns out not eating and not sleeping and a sudden summer heat dome and starting your period all together at once isn't really great for your mind or body. Things my 20 year old body could handle are suddenly calamitous for my nearly 47 year old body.
I woke up and put all the pieces together and, after rest and food and water and a cold shower, I was refreshed and ready to face the world. Kinda.
(more after the jump. TW: self-harm, disordered eating, suicide)
