Jun. 1st, 2013

enemyofperfect: a spray of orange leaves against a muted background (Default)
Having an anxiety disorder is like juggling angry weasels.

It's like juggling angry weasels all the time. And okay, it turns out that with enough practice, you can get pretty good at anything, even weasel-juggling? But that doesn't mean it doesn't make things difficult.

Like, you can never just pick up a book and read it. Instead it has to be, okay, all three weasels up in the air, time to turn the page and quick catch the weasels again -- yes, excellent, weasels successfully caught! Now read a paragraph. Now look up to make sure the weasels aren't writhing out of control. Good, good. Now read another few paragraphs -- whoops, and there we are with the writhing, damn it, weasels!

cut for metaphorical weasel violence and all-caps cursing )

But even when I do have the weasels mostly under control, it's just--

Sometimes I just get so tired of all the juggling.

(h/t to [personal profile] staranise -- lexicon -- and Joss Whedon -- episode context and quote)

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