I am awake, with coffee in my veins, nearly mentally and emotionally prepared to continue with the second half of my SSDI 10 page function report.
It's super stressful because it's a pretty important form. But also my therapist and psych have received similar paperwork. My therapist has been working with me for nearly... 8 or 9 years I think (time is a soup) and she knows me better than anybody here in my life bubble, and I trust her to give an accurate picture of my function/lack of.
I've been whinging about the hell I live in having to work, and how hard it is, since the earliest days (the actual work expected from me was minimal and easy, also should be enjoyable because it was related to what i studied in college). So this won't seem like I'm complaining about it out of nowhere--complaining is pretty light descriptor for somebody who has curled up crying and psychotic on the floor of a locked office.
(Side note, I am super distracted and irritated by the starlings nesting in the rain gutter--noisy, tappy, scratchy, clicky. But it won't be my problem in a week)
