This is how I feel all the time always:
Writing? AHHHH’m a great writer (or) AHHHH will never touch a keyboard ever again
Going to sleep? AHHHH why did I say/do/click on that I will never do anything ever again
Getting a haircut? AHHHH want it short, please. How short? Uh, I don’t know, shorter than it is now? I was supposed to come here with a picture of some good looking guy rocking the kind of hair I wish I had? I want it short, you know, short. You’re a barber, you’ve seen short hair before, right? No? — oh God, where am I?
I have good news. Alleviating AHHHH is possible.
By accepting that it’s impossible to cure AHHHH.
If you encounter a doctor trying to convince you that they have a cure for your AHHHH, they’re not talking about your AHHHH. Your AHHHH and my AHHHH and your neighbor’s AHHHH are completely different AHHHHs.
Besides, why would you want a cure for your AHHHH? As if it’s a hideous growth spurting out of your left cheek. As if hideous growths should be hidden, tucked away, stuffed back inside your skin so that your Boss knows you’re a professional. A professional who knows that the workplace is no place for hideous growths.
If you haven’t found a place that accepts your hideous growths, if you haven’t found an outlet for your AHHHH, you’re not looking hard enough. And that should make you go