My therapist thought it would be funny yesterday to try to joke about how it sounded like I was just making excuses for not doing things around the house (namely yard work - I have major sensory issues with feeling even remotely damp, so I hate getting at all sweaty, and I also have trouble getting up early in the morning because some of the medications I'm on make me really tired), so now I'm on "do all the things no matter how unpleasant just to prove him wrong" mode. I'd be out weeding the garden right now, by the porch light, if the cicadas would shut up (and there I go sounding like I'm making excuses again
). I've spent most of my life being overestimated and then accused of being lazy, not trying hard enough, or not doing anything I don't want to do when I can't meet people's expectations despite actually trying my hardest, so even jokes or tiny hints like this really get under my skin. I guess weeding and trimming the bushes regardless of how hot/humid it is outside or how tired my new medication is making me have been added to my list of tasks for tomorrow, in addition to laundry.
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Yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"