high-energy, hyper-focus slob
2025-07-01 08:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
myveryown_nemesis Good Morning, you Beautiful People!
I hope you are all doing well (or well enough, at least). Today's focus is keeping house. I have renamed my semi-weekly cleaning "Power Hour", and on Tuesdays (yes, it used to be one of my lazy days, but apparently in summer, Thursday works a bit better as a lazy day, I am more likely to have to say "Nope!" to yardwork due to weather), I'm going to do a "Power Hour Plus" -- the "Plus" is an extra 30 minutes (or more, if I *want* to) for those odds and ends that I haven't been getting around to, and/or do those deep clean jobs that don't fit into the hour of focused cleaning I usually do. For someone with ADHD, I have a rather clean home. I learned how to keep a clean home by accepting that I regularly need to change the way I do some things, while I still stay consistent with others, to satisfy my brain's ability to focus. It's a delicate balance, and I've pretty much got it figured out: quarterly, I assess what's working and what's not working. By nature, I am a slob who sometimes has high-energy, hyper-focused bouts of cleaning. Now, my home is mostly guest-ready most of the time. It's been a lifetime's process to get here.
I also have a teletherapy appointment, but after that, my day is open. So I guess I still get half of a lazy Tuesday, right?
I'm feeling strong in my sobriety, comfortable with my eating decisions, and committed to spending conscientiously.
I hope you find some beauty in your day, and as always, thank you for being here!
and on another note...
Date: 2025-07-03 01:11 am (UTC)We are in the process of lowering our costs (this predates my active attempt with SMART to reduce reckless spending), and our financial advisor specced out a couple of options, and recommended Pacific Life, and started the process for us. Part of the process, of course, was a visit from a nurse. And guess what? I was rejected. We knew that we would have to submit additional forms for my husband's issues, which we did, and he was ultimately accepted. But me? I was rejected because I don't have 5 years of continuous documented sobriety, AND because I was truthful and said that I was being treated for anxiety and depression. I am being treated, on medication for it. I do NOT have suicidal ideation. My liver numbers are FINE. So I was rejected on the grounds that I might relapse or I might stop treatment. I see a Psych-PA, a therapist, and am involved in two sobriety programs. I don't think I'm showing signs of giving up on treatment, ya know?
I'm thinking of sending Pacific Life a nastygram. I have my teletherapy appointment next, so we'll see if she talks me out of it or not.
Re: and on another note...
Date: 2025-07-03 01:13 am (UTC)I was not talked out of it, but I was asked to think about it. To write it, set it aside, and then come back to it to make sure that I am saying what I want to say. At first, I was just pissed off, and wanted to complain, but the more I think about it, I really want to say something. Their policy is an annoyance for me, personally. I have other options for getting coverage. What bothers me is that their policy is using mental and emotional health diagnoses as a weapon. I assure you, my husband, who had a heart attack in 2015, has a standing diagnosis of coronary heart disease, consumes a medicine cabinet of prescriptions to control a variety of health issues, is more likely to need that life insurance before they make the money they want to make from his policy than I am. The fact that mental and emotional health are suddenly "taken seriously" when they can use them as a reason for a denial of benefits, but are treated as inconsequential in others, boils my blood. I will need to find out who I need to write my letter to, and I want it to be a frickin' treatise on the unjust ways mental and emotional health are used by our society.
I know that writing my letter probably won't change anything, but I just want someone to hear my voice.
I haven't written it yet, but when I do, it will be a doozy.