I was talking to my mom, and she's always been upfront and direct. As she puts it, she will always tell you the truth, even if it "takes all the hide off your back." 

She told me I've been obsessive about my mental health lately. She told me about how I ruminated just days before my last appointment with the psychiatrist about what she was going to do with my medicine. Then, I kept trying to figure out whether I had PTSD or not (turns out, I do). It's like my mom said, it's okay to be aware of these things, but it's a completely different matter when you're playing doctor in your head and not living your life. 

I've posted about wanting to write again, but it seems so daunting. If I had a topic to write about, I'd be good to go, but I don't. I'm limited on which video games I can play, because the internet here sucks. I can never seem to finish a book. Any kind of book. I know it sounds like I'm making excuses, but it's like me and hobbies just weren't meant to be. 

Advice? I need a job too, but that's a work in progress. Ugh.