I dread the weekend a little.
For one thing, I have a little bit of work to do. It's not required, and there is no hard deadline (yet), but I feel I want to do it. Except it will eat up the time I can barely spare.
Too many cats are sick and need treatments.
I am sick and starved of soul-feeding and brain-feeding myself. I want to consume books, make art, and fill out page after page of sketchbooks and journals.
I had my first consult with a psychiatrist specializing in ADHD. I dumbed myself down for some reason. I was inarticulate, and I hid what I already knew. I didn't voice out clearly why I felt I had ADHD. While many of the things the doctor said made sense about my depression and anxiety, I was still dissatisfied about really addressing my concern about ADHD. I made myself sound like one of those people who suddenly have mental issues because of the pandemic and the mental health trend.
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