I was nice to myself today. I’ve been uming and erring about buying a game for myself with huge nostalgic a value that of late I’ve had huge cravings to dive into again, and at last, I woke up, placed a click and collect order with CeX, and two hours later walked away holding my new Switch copy of Crash Bandicoot N’Sane Trilogy. And by God, I ended up raging so hard over the snow levels that it’s 5 hours since I stopped and I still have a headache. I love that game.
There’s an almost ambrosia quality to a good rage game. While my experience with drugs is pretty much limited to alcohol, I’ve found that there’s sheer bliss in how much a ragefest will utterly destroy your psyche and leave you feeling a lot less anxious about just about everything else. Who needs help with anxiety when you can short circuit your own brain by repeatedly crashing into totems on the back of a baby polar bear?
So I’ve decided to get a therapist. No not because of ^ that though, reading it back maybe slightly because of that. My logic is I need a little help putting myself back together after, well, everything, and I don’t want to have a repeat of Sussex where it takes like 5 years to move on. And truth be told, I only ever got so far on my own with my anxiety. I’ve started applying for freelance writing jobs at last but I could be doing so much more if I got my brain working. And well, I’m also miserable. I’ve been miserable for about, 13 years at this point so I should probably try to fix that.
TWO is ticking along steadily. With a little side project I did for a friend that I may continue in February I’ve hit about 49,000 words this month, which means that technically as of tomorrow’s target I’ll have pulled off an accidental NaNoWriMo without meaning to, albeit across two stories. Still it’s nice to know even if it’s 31 days that I’m capable of doing that. Not quite at the point where I can turn every month into NaNoWriMo but it’s a sign I’m a step closer, so, yay. Imma go pass out now.