(no subject)

Well, the one-thumbed life continues to vex. I certainly don't think I'd want Light to be mean or unhelpful, but how sweet he's being seems to exacerbate my own feelings of tool-ish-ness. I should be able to clean the goddamn kitchen without an ER trip.

Thumb injuries also incline me to want to cut all of my hair off. I won't, because I think I'll be sad later, but I can't make a reliable bun, and I haven't really taught Light to braid yet, at least not in a way that leaves the braid snug enough to my head not to make me twitchy.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy continues to seem odd. I think I perplex her by having self-taught all the actually intellectual tricks, but being mostly unable to unseat the emotional responses with the intellectual ones. It's not that I've never thought that Light has a very, very slim chance of being dead when he doesn't call, it's just that reflexes incline me to brace myself for the worst, and I haven't gotten to a point where I'm comfortable throwing the reflexes out, because What If?

I'm tempted to volunteer for stage crew for Big Moves, but I'm loathe to commit to weekends because I'm a big, selfish wimp. I've loved having the luxury of having all my volunteer time be when Light's at work, because it's much harder to convince myself to be out and about when I know for a fact that he's home and I could be hanging out with him instead. I've gotten a little better of late, I'm more capable of going out and seeing friends at night, but it's still a thing I have to talk myself into doing.

I'd like my fall weather back, please. And to be able to focus enough to read, without focusing so much that I forget not to use my thumb.

(no subject)

Well, the one-thumbed life continues to vex. I certainly don't think I'd want Light to be mean or unhelpful, but how sweet he's being seems to exacerbate my own feelings of tool-ish-ness. I should be able to clean the goddamn kitchen without an ER trip.

Thumb injuries also incline me to want to cut all of my hair off. I won't, because I think I'll be sad later, but I can't make a reliable bun, and I haven't really taught Light to braid yet, at least not in a way that leaves the braid snug enough to my head not to make me twitchy.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy continues to seem odd. I think I perplex her by having self-taught all the actually intellectual tricks, but being mostly unable to unseat the emotional responses with the intellectual ones. It's not that I've never thought that Light has a very, very slim chance of being dead when he doesn't call, it's just that reflexes incline me to brace myself for the worst, and I haven't gotten to a point where I'm comfortable throwing the reflexes out, because What If?

I'm tempted to volunteer for stage crew for Big Moves, but I'm loathe to commit to weekends because I'm a big, selfish wimp. I've loved having the luxury of having all my volunteer time be when Light's at work, because it's much harder to convince myself to be out and about when I know for a fact that he's home and I could be hanging out with him instead. I've gotten a little better of late, I'm more capable of going out and seeing friends at night, but it's still a thing I have to talk myself into doing.

I'd like my fall weather back, please. And to be able to focus enough to read, without focusing so much that I forget not to use my thumb.