Susan's pandemic PTSD has returned her to being an anxious person once again. 

Was it redundant to put returned and once again in the same sentence? It was.

Anyway, she's successfully navigated this condition her entire life without medication, when she sez without medication that's only because she was able to handle things without it, Susan does not have an anti-medication attitude.

She employs a repertoire of things to calm and refocus herself and starts by treating the symptoms. One of her more effective efforts is through the meditative process of baking. Keep your yoga, Susan's got a cake in the oven. 

Susan doesn't enjoy anxiety, it's intrusive, debilitating and unnecessary. It's not like having something to worry about, that she understands, anxiety just attaches itself to whatever's in reach, like some needy f*cker.

For thirty years Susan and her father included a few minutes of anxiety strategizing in almost every phone call, it was nice to have his informed and calm counsel. Growing up he was a sarcastic pain in the ass, but always a good listener & kinda handicapped by being married to Susan's mother, so she forgave him.

Susan and her pal Kate were discussing their anxieties, and each made a pact to do something specific. Susan was going to schedule a counselling appointment within a week. Thus far she hasn't, but made some annual medical appointments instead. Susan will get it taken care of, she likes paying someone to listen to her talk about herself. That's actually her idea of Heaven.

Another symptom of Susan's Pandemic PTSD is her prolonged lack of motivation to get stuff done. Some folks might argue that this resembles her normal state and they wouldn't necessarily be wrong. However, it's going on for a really long time and Susan doesn't feel like she can change it. She's not non-functioning, it's just she can't do some things at all. 

Work has become a real problem, she takes lots of breaks to go out into the yard and throw sticks around with the dog (sometimes getting bitten), or to the bathroom to scrub the mineral deposits from her toilet with a pumice stone, or scroll through FB Marketplace searching for a tall rice paper lamp to put in the northwest corner of her den, or check the possibility that one her plants need water.  But, she always returns to her job of pressing buttons on a keyboard until she can't stand it one second longer, then gets up to look out the window with her gold opera glasses (a Christmas present from her Little Sister for when they see Hamilton from the cheap seats) or make a snack of chocolate chips mixed directly into a jar of peanut butter, or check her traps for dead mice (usually empty).

Sometimes feeding herself is an issue, like she just went thru a period where any meal not provided at her sister's house (many are) was a bowl of cereal. Quite honestly she was just in a mood to eat cereal combined with being in a mood not to cook anything. 

Susan has a ton of tiny little home projects, most completely within her ability and not more than a few hours work, but she just can't. She wants to, but she can't. She is considering making a list of everything that needs to be done, so maybe she's getting ready to get ready. We'll see.

Anyway, even though Susan took a nap directly after she logged off work today, she's still tired and is going to say seeya tomorrow.

Susan has changed over the last two years, she thinks it's due to a combination of advancing decrepitude and Pandemic PTSD. For a while she thought she may be a little ADHD, but those symptoms seemed much more severe than Susan's so she abandoned that diagnosis.

Anyway, Susan doesn't do details anymore. At the very least she's not reliable about details, so it's best to assume she's going to get something wrong. A recent example was when she showed up at her sister's house all decked out for New Year's Eve on December 30th. 

Another manifestation of Susan's current state of mind are the limited amount of things she cares about. It's like her brain doesn't produce enough caring to get through the day, so she distributes it to an established list of recipients and is dismissive about the rest. To her credit, she is able to open up and add extra things to care about, but not if they come with responsibilities.

She can no longer do two things at once (who can, really?). If she's home following a simple recipe displayed directly in front of her while having a hands-free phone conversation, she's leaving out an ingredient. 

Working in isolation has turned her into the type of employee she hates, one who just does the minimum. On her annual evaluation she answered a question about her future goals by saying she had no future goals. She can't even fake it anymore. 

That's one of the biggest symptoms; Susan can't fake it anymore. The best she can hope for is to keep her mouth shut, and sometimes she can't do that much. Even if she can, her face is right there to give her away, like she's a toddler and can't keep from spilling the secret that she hates this sh*t.

Lest she not reveal herself to be a total loser, there are still tons of things Susan does regularly and competently; she gets enough sleep, pays her taxes, waters her plants, maintains her relationships (with enthusiasm), and has hope for the future as long as that illiterate nazi c*cks*cker doesn't get back into office.