Jason is sleeping and, try as I might, I can’t stay down.

When he’s at home, I try to wake at the same time he does. It’s a challenge since it’s difficult to sleep and, once my brain switches on, I begin to structure my day, what I want to do, should do, need to do.

Or, rather, perceive what I need to do. I have this habit of waking up super early and eating breakfast on the exercise bike while watching YouTube videos.

I’m actually looking forward to it on Monday or Tuesday. Kiana and Sidney have posted some new things ranting about society and culture. I also like some other Tubers and watch them based on how long I limit myself on the bike v. how tired I am.

I’m trying to, rather poorly, not become stressed and anxious about the class. For this term, I’ve been saddled with 29 students. This is a rather large class and just one short of getting bonus pay — of course. The college hedges its bets when it can. Two of the students have ‘accommodations,’ which means essentially nothing. The students are threatened – but never charged – with late penalties. None of the tests are timed and I allow them to retake as much as they want. No skin off me since the quizzes are auto graded.

I’m not sure how accommodated students are different than non-accommodated ones. They’re all ‘special.’ Special in a way where they have their butts continually kissed until the student loan money runs out.

But, I’m just a lowly adjunct who’s been in the business more years than the past three ‘supervisors’ combined. What do I know?

I did message the person from Centerstone I wasn’t appreciative of and asked to be switched to another councilor. That’s very unusual for me. I’ve had multiple interactions with several mental health professionals over the past ten years. There’s only been a couple I’ve been iffy about and one that I fully rejected – a nutritionist who kept telling me I was going to an early grave after suffering horribly.

There’s just something about this person. I can’t exactly understand why or how, but she fairly repulses me. That’s harsh. Sure, she’s an intern. A mother who returned to college after a raising her children or whatever. I’ve delt and supported students in the same situation. That doesn’t bother me. It’s just something about… her. I don’t know. Maybe I was supposed to be impressed by the dollar store Jung wanna be type journal she gave me after the second visit.

That journal was flipped through for two seconds and abandoned. I’m thinking about donating it to the reuse section of the trash dump. It’s worthless to me but could have value to someone else.

I’ll have to see what happens. When I rejected the nutritionist, I was never assigned a new one. Actually, shortly after, the Center started ignoring me. Which I was okay with. I’m pretty sure that part of my problem at that time was I had so many ‘mental health professionals’ telling me I was crap that I was breaking mentally.

When I cut myself lose and narrowed down to just one or two, I’ve rebounded a bit. There are other factors, but not being made to feel horrible and lacking all the time probably helped.

Maybe Centerstone will start ignoring me too or I won’t receive another counselor because I’m labeled ‘difficult.’

Well, whatever.
I know they’re pumping me for as much governmental Medicare funding like the college is for student loans.

It’s all smiles when dollar signs are involved.