healthnotes: monoarticular pain

Onset: yesterday night, no particular incident that set it off that i know of, though i was sitting on that hand.
Left hand ring finger main knuckle, dull ache, mostly on movement (flex down/up), no tension needed to hurt on flex. Kind of hurts like a bruise. Plus tightness along length of proximal bone on flex. Source of pain from middle of knuckle, no particular visible swelling or redness, but feels slightly, but distinctively warmer.

In RL, I do better than I probably look

A few months ago I got a comment on an old post.

"Dude your blog is NUTS and that's not a good thing."

Oops.

Hahha. Yeah, oops.

Sorry dude, I really only used this place as a place of wallowing in the muddy depths of depression when I don't have a good person to complain to anymore, and besides the fact that I'm doing much better mentally, if something is minor I do have someone now to get that out to so it doesn't fester.

This place back when I started was a fangirling space because I really wasn't comfortable with any other space I found. That phase came and went and I abandoned it a bit as I found some other fandom spaces I could lurk in. Then I came back and used this as a semi-public place akin to screaming towards the ocean, all the way into a scary time in the mental sinkhole I'm still afraid of falling back into, and all the way out of it.

It looks like chronicle of someone who never got better, but the story is pretty biased, the recent bits are only sporadic potholes in the grand scheme of "doing pretty okay".

Life's far, far from perfect—I'm quite underpaid with a skill no one in the industry respects; I don't know what the loving fuck I'm doing with my life; I'm essentially renting the house I grew up in, burdened by all the things my parents left behind when they moved overseas, unable to move out because of obligations and having no money; My health is sub-optimal and has a handful of daily discomforts and inconveniences; Talking/thinking about jobs and careers and how little I'm earning gives me fucking anxiety and feeling like a disappointment—but I'm 90% functional and not trapped in a depressive spiral. I hate my body, but probably not more than one standard deviation away from the average women. (Having someone to tell me a highly realistic solution every time I try to use that as a springboard to the whirlpool of shit probably helped.)

So yeah, the past several years here is a record of just the cesspool. In regards to health I'm definitely a little desensitized at this point. The rest is pretty okay.

I know I have some escape ropes in my backpack now.