Either work is ridiculously stressful right now or something has shifted in my brain that has turned formerly mountable things into insurmountable ones. (I'm giving you the side eye, menopause.) I have gone from smacking my to-do list down like I'm a spandex-encased pro wrestler (Tell 'em Large Marge sent ya) to dashing behind the partition in my doorless office so nobody can see the tears rolling down my face. More than once, I haven't even had time to make that dash, and I've sprung a weakling-leak right in front of a coworker who does not have anything to do with what's vexing me, which just intensifies the humiliation and self-loathing. Plus, two real live panic attacks, which are new to me and have me searching my brain for the UNSUBSCRIBE button. The worst of it all, though, is noticing that my very occasional intrusive thoughts have shifted from "it would solve a lot of things if that semi would suddenly hork over into my lane" to "golly, I...
Cheaper than therapy.