mental health

“You have nine new messages.”

It’s supposed to imply that I can do a lot of stuff even while I’m sick, but what it actually means is “not dying yet.” Because that is the actual definition of functioning: existing. Breathing in and out, eating, talking, and — especially if you live in America — generating some form of income.

Selfies are one of the easiest indicators of my mental health.

Bob’s Burgers is familiar and cozy and something I can let myself fall into completely. Having it on is like a constant, hilarious lullaby — one that I fall asleep to more often than not.

My biggest fear is being too much.

It has been part of my life for so long that I have woven it into the fabric of my personality and sense of self.

The phrase “self-care” comes loaded with assumptions about who has the ability to care for themselves, and what kind of care is valuable. Exercise is virtuous. Devouring “Making a Murderer” in a single sitting is gluttonous.

Oh, cats, how the internet loves you.