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I’m gonna say it: I don’t understand apps/companies that are marketed as helping you with your finances by keeping track of your spending and showing you “subscriptions you didn’t know you were still paying”
Your bank account shows you your transactions ? We all know this right ??
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The ADHD demands that I pace around. The steps are good for me and also it makes my brain happy.
...However, the nefarious sabotage from my hips and lower back hinder me.
Evil evil evil. This brings me rage.
My heart physically aches for Kazutoshi, it hurts I love him sm ☹️
My God, math is kicking my ass so badly im about to cry anytime soon 😭😭😭
My fucking stomach is killing me. Idk if it's my appendix, my muscles, my intestines, or my fucking uterus.
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I'm so happy for Kenny that he got cool special new entrance music for PPVs, but I stg if i don't get to sing Battle Cry with 40k other people at All In, I'm gonna be pissed
Following people to be polite because they’re part of a community your in charge of moderating can be so frustrating, like damn I know your free to do whatever spicy stuff you want to do in your own account. But being feeling forced to expose yourself to a kink your neutral on just sucks.
Everyone around you is super into and it feels like you’re being pressured into it without them doing anything wrong.
I want to unfollow so badly, but stupid drama would absolutely get kicked up and I just fucking hate it so much.
I wish I could go and find what I really want without having to be constantly reminded your an outsider in a community your supposed be I be welcomed in.
Fucking ow
This is just me murbling and burbling on my page to try and keep myself upright. I've got seven more hours in my shift, and unholy hamburger helper, but I'm enduring an arthritis flare that has me contemplating day drinking as an Olympic sport, or seeing if one of the veterinarians on site would be willing to spot me some drugs. I don't care what kind, just as long as the hurting. fucking. stops.
Basically, everything from the hips on down is radiating like angry sand, hot and grating and miserable, and walking is a fucking chore, damn. Which is extra suck, because I get to do foot patrol, so in addition to the weather being hot and sticky it's also filled with pain and irritation. To be fair, my rheumatologist encourages me to exercise through my flares, so yay. Let's hear it for daily work being therapeutic, right?
Now all I have to do is remember to fucking breathe, because when I'm really hurting I hold my breath - I blame my childhood abuse for that. If I wasn't making noise, eventually they'd stop hitting me/looking for me, so being dead still and quiet was the way to keep myself safe.
I'll be all right, eventually. This is temporary.
