This is the thing that stuck with me the most before I let it go. Sometimes I will think of something that will pop up and wonder how people can be so oblivious or dismissive. It boggles the mind. I was a good actress for a long time.

This is from my daily Unspirational calendar.

I love all things Martha. I’ve been a Living Magazine subscriber since college. What on earth is “family-friendly banana pudding”? Have I been making adults-only banana pudding all these years?

This has been the longest week. College admissions Zoom meetings. My middle kid applying to college. My hair color not turning out perfectly. Driving across town to a doctor’s office. Endless errands. I’m getting ready to take my son to piano lessons and I’m getting a Sonic Vanilla Coke because I deserve it. It’s Thursday.

Scrolling through Instagram, a saw this from @thechronicallyhonest:

I know I’ve thought this before and have even written about it, but more as taking it with pride, not what it is. It’s only natural to try to appear “normal,” because who wants to be the mentally ill friend? I know I’m perceived differently by people who know my story or part of my story or those who have heard bits of anecdotes. It’s always been incredibly important to me to look put together. I can’t tell you how many people have commented on that through the years.

Just since I started this post, 25 minutes ago, I’ve gotten so distracted it’s nuts. The ADHD is strong with this one. It rides along with the Bipolar Type 2 Electric Boogaloo. So much fun. But at least I look good today. Like really good. There should be a scale of how good one with mental illness looks and how good they’re feels that day. Kind of like a double version of the pain scale doctors show you.

That would be a good unit of measurement of reality.

The New Yorker is always bringing it.

I need to know if I have Covid, charisma, and I ALWAYS need a Magic 8 Ball!