I’m not a stranger to throwing around medical terms, whether for hypochondriac or hyperbolic purposes. I know quite a bit about quite a lot of them, so they’re used in daily conversation without a thought. But as I’ve been sitting in front of my homework for hours… again… I’ve wondered… again… if I really might have this horribly inconvenient ailment.
You won’t be surprised to hear that I WebMD’d that shit as soon as I got the chance between classes and homework and dog mommying and supergirlfriending and roommating. It seems I’ve won the symptom lottery:
Anxiety! Chronic boredom! Difficulty controlling anger! Difficulty concentrating when reading! Procrastination (aka this)! Low frustration tolerance! Mood swings! And the kicker, self-reporting psychological maladjustment more often!
But then I’m like “Look, girl. You have anxiety because you have an anxiety disorder. You’re angry ’cause you have a crazy ghost of a third roommate. You’re frustrated easily because you’re as clumsy as those poor “before” folks on infomercials. You procrastinate because it’s easy, you self-diagnose ’cause you’re a hypochondriac, and you are chronically bored because….”
Wait… why am I chronically bored? I am literally ladyballs deep in schoolwork. My Roku is full to the brim with all of my favorite relaxations. I have a dog to play with, friends to grab coffee with, a boyfriend to drive crazy/love/the same thing/amiright?, at least 25 things on my to-do list, and 50 books to read.
But wait… I can’t read because I keep reading the same sentence for 10 minutes before I realize that I haven’t turned a page. I have been a reader my whole life, and a fast(ish) one at that, and now I can’t read 15 pages in less than an hour. Why can’t I read?
Okay. Clearly I have an attention disorder then, right? It’s cool. I guess I’ll be modern and go to therapy. Get treated like an ADULT, you know?
WAIT! I don’t have money.
WAIT! I’m going to get money soon.
WAIT! Even when I have money, I can’t take any of the medicines they prescribe for ADHD due to my irregular heartbeat.
WAIT! Maybe I’ll just have to rub some dirt in it, stand up, and get through it all anyway. Because I can. And when I can’t, I have people who will pull me up and make me. And when I’m done, I’ll have a Master’s to show for it.