#again… it’s the undiagnosed adhd that doesn’t let me be normal at work

[thetorturedlovergirl]

im a guide at a museum and yesterday a co-worker told me to hurry up a part I was explaining and instead of doing that I got so nervous I started to ramble random facts about the subject instead of wrapping it up 😭😭😭

I’m not made for small talk, I WAS CREATED TO RAMBLE AND SAY ALL THE FACTS THAT EXIST

[five-rivers]

AU where Danny’s human form has ghostly attributes like fangs, reflective eyes, occasional glowing, echoing voice, etc. What theories do the people of Amity Park make, and which ones are true?

.

“Fenton, correct?” you ask.  You’re a long-term sub.  Ms. Tetslaff unexpectedly had to have major surgery, and won’t be returning to teach for months.  

“That’s me,” said the boy, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning just enough for you to see that, yes, those are vampire fangs.

“You’re going to need to take those out,” you say.  

“Take what out?” he asked, blinking blankly, and do his eyes-?  No, that’s a trick of the light.  

“The vampire teeth,” you respond.  “They’re a safety hazard.  You could swallow them.”

“I’m not wearing vampire teeth.  These are my normal teeth.  They’re just weird.”  To demonstrate, he pulled back his lips with his fingers, showing you the gums.  Sure enough, there are not seams or edges that you can see.  

“Huh,” you say.  ��Never mind then.”

.

“It’s the parents,” they said.  “I heard they experimented on him.  They only needed one to carry on their work, you see.”

This might have made sense, except that you’ve met Jazz Fenton, and she’d somehow managed to make her position on her parents’ research, her career aspirations, and her opinions on the city’s six most popular restaurants clear within your first five minutes of conversing with her.  Which is actually kind of weird by itself.  

Either way, you don’t think she’ll be carrying on her parents work any time soon.  

You thank the vendor and pay for your sandwich, periodically glancing the way Danny Fenton went.  

.

“He glows, you know,” said the teenager.  She knows you’re not from town.  You don’t know how.  She doesn’t go to the school you work at.  “In the dark.”

“I’ve never seen him in the dark,” you say, but you have seen how he catches the eye.  

Until he doesn’t.  

“We have,” said the girl, nodding at her coworkers behind the counter.  “He comes at night, sometimes.”

“Is it body paint?” you ask, even though you know the girl can’t know, and wouldn’t bring it up if she thought the solution was so mundane.  

“No,” she said.  “Weston thinks he’s dead.  Wesley, I mean.  Not the one that works here.”

You’re already hopelessly lost when it comes to the Weston brothers, but you file the information away nonetheless.  It could be useful.

“If people really think he’s dead,” you say, “shouldn’t his parents be told?”

The girl snorted.  “Have fun with that.”

.

Something burned green on the road.  You cover your nose with the back of your hand.  You see Danny Fenton standing on the other side.  His eyes reflected the green light.  

“He’s like a cat,” whispered someone behind you.  

.

Two students spoke in whispers in the hallway outside your temporary office.  

“He’s a vampire.  That’s the only explanation.”

“No, he’s not.  He can walk around in the sun.”

“That’s actually a recent addition to the myth-”

You get up and close the door. 

.

“I heard him purring.”

You don’t know how much more of this you can take.  You’re hoping Ms. Testslaff comes back soon, so you can stop coming here.  

“What, is he a cat, now?”

“I don’t know, maybe.  You’re just going to whip out the werewolf theory again, aren’t you.”

“Better than werecat.”

.

“Alien?”

“Would explain why he’s so obsessed with astronomy.”

Your fellow teachers are in on it, even.  You pinch the bridge of your nose.  And contemplate the ancient coffee machine.  It is worth it, you wonder.  

“I think it’s more likely he has undiagnosed autism,” said the blessedly sane Mr. Lancer.  “Or ADHD.  Have any of you heard from the our SpEd team recently?  I swear, they’re dodging my calls.”

“If they had the potential to force me to be alone in a room with Danny Fenton,” said one of the others, “I’d probably dodge your calls, too.  I can’t believe you still have the guts to give him detention.”

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” agreed the other.

Mr. Lacer glared down his nose at them.  “There’s something wrong with you.  Are you teachers or not?”  He looked at you, as if to compel you to comment, to weigh in on either side.  

You shrug.  You know you should agree with Lancer, but, well.  

You don’t want to be alone in a room with Danny Fenton, either.  

.

“Maybe he was abducted by aliens.”

“Hm.  Possible.”

You haven’t seen Mr. Lancer in the break room for a week.  

.

“My little sister saw him walk through a wall, once.”

“Do you think that counts more towards ghost, mutant, or vampire?”

“I don’t know.  Let’s ask the teacher.”

You pretend not to hear them.  

“Let’s just put a mark in each column.”

.

You’re leaving.  Finally.  

You sigh as you pack the last of your supplies into your car and lean against the door, staring up into the flat blue sky.  

Something silver, black, and tan streaks across it.  

You could swear it was Danny Fenton.  

[variousqueerthings]

Johnny and ADHD

alright, I’ve wanted to write something about ADHD Johnny for awhile now.

Waaay back in February @deliciousbananavoidpurse made this post and I made some haphazard additions, but now, at last, I ramble!

This isn’t really an addition to that list so much as a... idk, seeing it from an almost fic-but-kind-of-meta point of view. Those points In Practise, with an additional young Johnny.

1.

Johnny’s a kid. He and his mom have been living hand-to-mouth for as long as he remembers, in and out of schools, in and out of apartments and cars. Of course he’s going to be flighty, spaced-out, unfocused.

He’s an easy target – not very big (he doesn’t get a lot of good meals), dirty clothes, and… weird. He gets beaten up sometimes, but mostly he sticks as much to himself as he can and doesn’t go to school if he can help it. Laura saves up and gets him a walkman.

After that it’s like the world doesn’t exist to him at all.

She thinks that’s easier than trying to make him live in it. But he deserves better. They both do. So she makes a decision that changes everything…

2.

Johnny’s not going hungry these days. In fact, he eats constantly, like he’s making up for lost time. His clothes are new and he gets anything he wants. He’s enrolled in school properly.

But Johnny himself doesn’t change much. He’s vibrating with an energy he can’t explain – normal for boys – he skips school, he goes off somewhere in his own mind, struggles with making friends, gets into fights he can’t win, and all day he listens to music. Still skinny, still flighty, still weird.

Tries new things that become all-encompassing for him and drops them one day to the next – normal for boys, all normal for boys – and then -

3.

Johnny sees those boys: Tall, broad, leather jackets, rad bikes, shining, beautiful. He watches them through the window for hours, transfixed in a way only riding his bike and listening to music used to do. 

He joins Cobra Kai.

And finally, like a dam breaking, he focuses. He focuses like he’s a machine. Like nothing else matters. He takes everything happening at home, every beating he ever took, every failing grade (he tries, but school never manages to matter – the other Cobras help, simply by being there and sometimes especially Bobby forces him to sit down and write a paper, but he’ll never be smart, that’s fine), and he puts them into his fist.

He trusts Kreese to tell him what to think, what to feel, what to do. Finally, finally, everything makes sense. It’s just him and his body and someone he trusts telling him what to do with it. 

Nothing else matters.

4.

There are other things that matter. 

He’s getting his life in order so he can leave Sid’s and take his Mom with him. He’s going to be the right kind of boyfriend to Ali. He’ll do well enough in his final year to make up for the previous ones, and he’s got karate, and Kreese, who’s telling him he’s the champ. 

Who he can trust.

But he gets into trouble, he drinks, his grades continue to slip, and suddenly (or is it gradually, he can’t tell with time sometimes) Ali is telling him he’s changed – angry, volatile, forgetful, (okay he was always forgetful, but it’s getting worse – is karate the only thing he cares about?), but it’s fine, he can fix that too. He just has to change everything that doesn’t work. If he can be that good at karate, it just means he’s not trying hard enough everywhere else. Just needs to try harder.

Just. Easy. He has a plan. He has a hundred plans.

5.

It all blows up in his face and suddenly he’s faced with the truth: that there really is nothing he’s good for. Karate? What’s that ever gotten him? What else has he got to show for it? 

He’s still just the same kid he was – alright, he’s bigger, babes will stop and check him out, he’s learned how to charm people if he has to, but those are just scripts and they don’t work for long if he doesn’t have anything else to back them up and they bore him - they bore him in ways he thinks have gotta be different to what everyone else means when they say they’re bored. 

He doesn’t have a plan. He has a hundred plans. He doesn’t have anyone to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what to do.

He drinks more. What does it matter, he’s young, life’s short, there’s nothing he can learn now (and really, if you know a couple of things you can scrape by – when they turn off the lights he knows he forgot to pay the bills, when he gets arrested he knows he fucked up and let his emotions get away with him), and before he knows it it’s 2002.

6.

His mom dies. Robby is born. Someone smarter than him could figure out some kind of poetic meaning behind that, but he’s not smart, so he just lets the moments pass him by like everything else has passed him by.

He’s getting by with what he knows. The world outside is like a blur. He’s got what he’s always had: music, a car, his looks. He’s doing okay for someone in his mid-thirties who doesn’t know how to boil spaghetti and drinks first thing in the morning.

 Probably all the fighting. He kept it up, informally. Maybe because it’s too deep in his bones for him to let go of, even if it just reminds him over and over that he couldn’t take it. That he can’t take it.

He fights whenever it all gets to be too much and even the drinking doesn’t work. Sometimes he punches walls to fight himself. It’s like a sharp feeling that he can’t ignore that can only be silenced with fighting. The off-button.

7.

2017 (again, the past is a blur. 2017? what happened to thirty-five? What happened to being young? Someone who’s young is allowed to be like this, but he’s…)

He never owned a computer. He never learned new words or anything else that wasn’t immediately important. He makes a handshake deal, because his credit is shit, but also because he never figured out how contracts really work. He still struggles with bills (you can leave anything to the last minute and beyond and things can still turn out okay), struggles with communication. His old scripts don’t work any more and he can’t learn new ones. He’s forgotten enough promises he made to watch Robby’s matches or drive him to school – even his birthday sometimes, even when he writes it down and forgets where he wrote it down - that Robby wants nothing more to do with him. Forgets groceries. 

He’ll do or say something and people will look at him like he’s stupid and he doesn’t know why. He refuses to ask, because he just wants the looks to go away. He knows he’s stupid. He knows he can’t figure things out. He knows, okay? Shut up.

He’s not an alcoholic. He just drinks to wake up. To forget. To calm down (that electricity that existed in his body as a kid never went away, even though he’s so so tired. The machine inside of him that won’t shut off without a fight, won’t let him stop moving). To sleep. To drink. To do something.

He sees Miguel and has a hundred new plans. He sees the future like it’s right there and a million miles away. He was never good at implementing long-term plans. He thinks maybe karate can save him, just like it did when he was a kid. 

8.

There’s something wrong with his brain. Has been all his life. That’s not how he was told, he was given a bunch of tests and gently informed – undiagnosed it can lead to some of the problems you’ve had, it’s normal, it’s okay – like he’s dying of cancer. But that’s the gist of it. He didn’t fuck up because he didn’t try hard enough, he was always going to fuck up. That doesn’t make him feel better.

It means quitting the alcohol is gonna fail. It means he really is stupid. It means he could’ve never been the kid his mom needed. It means he was easy for Kreese to manipulate. It means Robby could be fucked up too and he’s failed him again. It means he’s not worth the time and pain that people invest in him, like his mom, Ali, Shannon, Robby, Bobby, Miguel, Carmen, Daniel -

“Hey.”

It means he’s got Emotional Dysregulation. Translated: he’s the kind of man who has to work extra hard not to cry (explains why he was such a pussy as a kid. Also explains all the pain in his chest and throat right before roughly... 70% of his most recent fights). And fuck, he just failed.

“What?” Anger is better. It’s also a dysregulation apparently, but it’s better than being weak.

“It’s okay,” says Daniel, and of course he’d think that – he’s never seen a nameable problem he didn’t wanna fix, but didn’t you hear LaRusso, you can’t fix this. Never could. 

“It’s not about fixing,” answers Daniel. “It’s about understanding. It’s about knowing who you are. If you know who you are, you can make a choice.”

“What kinda choice do I have?”

Daniel shrugs. “You chose to take in Miguel. You chose not to fight me, more times than I chose to fight you in the last couple of years. You chose that you wanted to know who you were. And you chose to try being sober. Those are all good decisions in my book. Anything else… we can figure things out from here. Trust me.”

He places a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, grounding him. Daniel has that power. The power to make everything okay for a second. 

Johnny thinks: Please tell me what to do. I was always okay once you gave me something to do. Like karate. Figuring things out is… too abstract. Eventually though, he knows, if he’s patient, Daniel will tell him what to do next. 

He just has to trust him.

9. (Extra: things Johnny does, because of the brain he has)

Johnny trusts easily, despite it all. He’s honest (and sometimes too literal). He’s passionate. He’s driven. He’s loving. He feels, so so much. He’s protective and he’s loyal. He tries his hardest, even when everything – including his own brain – refuses to help. He believes in second chances for others (and he’s beginning to believe in it for himself). He’s good with kids when he lets himself be. He’s learning to be gentle with himself and others. He’s learning that bravery takes many shapes. He’s learning that he can learn, and he’s learning what he needs for that to happen. He’s a good mentor. He’s learning to be a better friend. He’s kind. He’s honourable. He’s trying to rectify his own mistakes, and he’s trying not to let the mistakes of others continue to impact his life. He’s moving forwards.

[saundraswriting]

Missed Signals Chapter 2

SUMMARY: Reki has a tendency to do things while being unaware. He doesn't notice his leg shaking or how much he fidgets with his headband or even how much he picks at his skin. He only notices when someone tells him to knock it off or when he focuses so intently his brain thinks of nothing else.

WARNINGS: Nothing too grand, descriptions of ADHD symptoms,

NOTES: I am trying to cope with what I am thinking is undiagnosed ADHD by projecting onto my favorite characters. I mean no harm and no offense.

Ao3 // Missed Signals Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Reki wasn't bored per se. He was interested in the material being taught, but he couldn't sit still enough to focus. He seemed to be having this problem a lot more now that he had spoken to Cherry and Joe slightly against he will. He was trying to be still as possible knowing that if he began to shift then the class would be disrupted but he could feel it building under his skin, an itch he needed to scratch. He was glad at the moment Langa reached over, swapping his clicking pen for a soft pencil. He wanted to apologize to the nearby students but was too busy twirling the pencil around his fingers like a drumstick, he was able to tune back into the teacher but unable to write his notes, but the itch was at least soothed under his skin.

He wasn't too worried about his notes anymore though. Langa had asked Cherry for some lessons on Japanese to help better his literacy quicker. He used his skills to take better notes for Reki to copy on the rougher days like today. When it came time for a break, Langa and Reki stayed in the classroom, leaning against the nearby open window.

"How did you know?" Reki asked Langa. "How do you always know when I need to fidget?"

"I don't always. Just like you are starting to pay attention and are learning your cues, so am I. I notice that you tend to freeze and then you gets more and more tense as it gets worse. I know that you as a person, think you are a burden, even though you are not, so you don't like to do things that attract attention, like clicking your pen. So I gave you my pencil." Langa explained. "Also, if I look at the right moment, you look for ways to escape. Your eyes flick from door to door like you are caged in, so you are ready to leave if needed. Not only at school but when we are in busy places too, like you need to always be ready to move at the drop of a hat." Langa said.

"Hm. I didn't know that. Thank you for helping me. I don't know what I would do without you." Reki pulled Langa into a tight hug.

Langa hugged him back, squeezing tightly, knowing that Reki liked firm physical contact. "There is no need to thank me. I am glad to help you as much as I can."

Break ended, an das they returned to their seats, Reki's restlessness seemed to ease. Reki took his notes for his last class with minimal distractions and drawings. They finished their school day, standing by the entrance gate deciding on what to do.

"I want to skate but I know I need to do the homework, we got assignments in most of our classes. Do you think we could go to Joe's?" Langa asked. "The noise sometimes helps you focus."

Yeah. Can we skate for like an hour first? I want to make sure I can focus, we can take the long way there, right?" Reki asked. Langa playfully hesitated and after Reki's third 'please' agreed to the plan.

When they finally get to Joe's restaurant, their normal spots at the bar are open. They duck in and settle next to Cherry while pulling out their books. Everyone seemed to understand by unspoken rule that those seats were for them and rarely were there people in them. In a second there was a pot of tea and a pitcher of water sat in front of them.

"Hello boys. How was school today?" Cherry finally noticed them getting their school books out of their bags.

"Good. Today I was able to take notes for a few of my classes really well. I did have an issue before last break but Langa helped." Reki said while snatching Langa's notebook to copy for the class he didn't take notes in.

"He started getting tense and seemed...flightly. So I took his pen and made him use a pencil. He twirled it around for the whole period, but was able to follow along really well. It seemed to help ease his restlessness." Langa explained. Reki was tuning out their conversation, biting his thumb while looking between the two notebooks and the textbook.

"He did the same motions? Consistently? Interesting." Cherry made a mental note to look into that along with the research he was doing on neurodevelopment disorders. "Why are you guys here? Not that we don't love to see you everyday of the week." Cherry tried to keep the sarcasm to a minimum, he knew Reki was sensitive.

"Reki suggested it. Sometimes the constant noise is just right for him to get into the zone. He can focus because it isn't too loud or too quiet I guess. He is trying different environments to see if he can pinpoint what works and what doesn't. After finally talking about it, he seemed to realize that this is a problem that won't go away on its own. Reki is smart, reckless but smart." Langa said. He moved to Cherry's other side as to not talk over Reki for the moment.

"The noise seems counterintuitive. I don't get it." Cherry said. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought.

"I told you before, it is different for everyone. But The noise here or other places like this work for us sometimes, cause it is rhythmic. There is a pattern-people come, people eat, people leave. Our brains like patterns, it is even better when we can think about them in the back of our minds. We are fully invested without taking our focus off the main things. Doesn't always work though." Joe cut into the conversation.

The three skaters looked over at Reki who was diligently copying notes while biting his fingers of his left hand. He was the most focused they had seen him in a while outside of skating. The restaurant was working in his favor. However he was chewing rather violently on his nails, Langa narrowed his eyes at the red and raw tips of his fingers. They looked sore and painful, but Langa couldn't pin down when he saw Reki chewing at his nails. From what Langa could see it was a constant habit.

"He is chewing his fingers too. You can see the redness and bits of blood around his nails." Langa commented to Cherry. They both sat and watched as Reki worked hard.

Reki was unaware of his surroundings, he paid no attention to Cherry and Langa avidly staring at him, he let the background noise of Joe's restaurant wash over him lulling him into a state of focus. He tried not to think to much, just enjoying the environment and the positive results on his mental state. Reki was so focus he didn't realize he was chewing on his fingers at all again. It was a habit his mother crowed about him needing to break but nothing seemed to do the trick. Reki finally pulled away from his fingers and studies when he tasted blood and Langa laced his fingers with his.

"Hey, maybe you should take a break. You've been working for a while and I think we need to talk about your nail biting." Langa said.

"I wouldn't mind a break. I am not really hungry though, I think I will just have some tea for now." Reki answered absentmindedly. He was finishing up the section he had been working on. Cherry and Langa shared a look.

"Reki, when was the last time you ate? You really should have something. It is getting late." Cherry tried to push the red-head. Reki paid him no mind, already swallowed into his studies again. He was adamant he was going to finish his assignments, all of them that he could. Reki pulled off his headband and began scratching lightly at his scalp, running his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly when he was thinking.

"Reki, did you eat lunch today?" Langa asked. Reki blinked and refocused on Langa. Langa could tell that the recent conversation had gone in one ear and out the other. "Reki, look at me. Focus on me for just a moment." Langa waited until he saw Reki's distant gaze blink back into awareness. "Reki, did you eat today at lunch?"

"Did I eat today at lunch?" Reki parroted. Langa nodded. "Yeah, I had chicken curry and a Caprese salad." Reki answered firmly.

"Reki that was your lunch yesterday. I remember because I ate all the mozzarella bites and you yelled at me cause that was your favorite part. What did you eat today? I had to go speak to Hirikawa-Sensei at lunch today. I told you to go to the roof and eat, I would catch up." Langa said. Reki frowned in thought.

"I remember that, then I got distracted by a text Miya sent me and then it reminded me of something I wanted to look at for a gift for him...."Reki trailed off. "I don't think I ate today at all. I missed breakfast cause I over slept." Reki nodded once, pleased to be able to give a truthful answer. When no one responded his shrugged and went back to work.

"Oh, hell no. I know that when you get in the groove, you tend to stay there for too long but Reki you missed three meals today and now all you want is tea?" Cherry was slightly heated.

"Yeah, it makes the most sense. I need the caffeine to help me focus and it is an appetite suppressant and the water will keep me full and the tea will be good on my stomach. If I eat now, then I will be nauseous later. Days like this happen enough that I know what I am doing." Reki said. He only shrugged in answer to Langa and Cherry's incredulous looks. "Please leave it alone, sometimes, I don't like to eat. It can be tiring, a lot leads up to having a meal and sometimes that is too much. I take what I can get when I can get it. Now, let me finish my science homework." Reki waved off their concern just as Joe changed out the tea pots, with a smile.

"You doing okay over here kid? Need anything?" Joe asked but eyed all three of them. they all shook their heads, Reki gleefully fixing a large mug of tea how he liked it and drinking it quickly before making another one and sipping it. He kept the spoon in the mug, sliding it through the tea first up then down then left then right making a small ting each time. The motion and the noise seemed to soothe nerves that Cherry and Langa both missed up to that point. As Reki faded back into his studies, abandoning the tea but not the stirring motion, Cherry and Langa began having a whispered conversation.

"I think we should have a tutoring session, and I think Joe should lead this one. We need to figure out how and what we can do to help Reki. We seem to just stress him out when we get caught up in out neurotypical behaviors. I was thinking Saturday? I can ask Miya to distract him with skating for a while, or maybe help him make a new board? I think Reki has a commission from someone who comes to Dope Sketch." Langa requested. His concern was clearly on his face, eyebrows drawn together and a lip tucked between his teeth.

"I agree. I can order some books and resources online so we can have reputable sources. and Miya would love to help, he has been nagging me about it since the discussion at the skate park." Cherry responded.

Langa waved down Joe frantically, almost hitting Reki in the head. Joe came over, an eyebrow raised in question. "What can I do for you?" He asked a little too loud. Langa quickly hushed him, shooting a fruitive glance at a still studying Reki.

"Will you come and help us research ways to help Reki? I know we talked about it before but now I really want to look into it. This is affecting his everyday life, his is hurting himself unintentionally and even skipping meals. I don't want to push too had but I think we need to look at ways of helping him cope with what is going on." Langa asked.

"Of course. I don't know how much I can help, I have to say that my medication helped a lot and because of that my symptoms aren't as noticeable most of the time even if I miss a dose. I have spent many years forming the habits that help me get through the day, skating and the intensity of the kitchen help with that too. Where do you want to meet at?" Joe asked.

"We can meet at my studio, it is spacious enough and then we can keep our work there. I really think this will be good for him and for us." Cherry said. "I had no idea that some of the quirks you and Reki exhibit were signs of something else. It must be tiring to try to keep up with people who don't understand or even yourselves." Cherry continued.

That moment Reki raised his head, stretching his arms over his head and groaning deeply. Langa looked at the long lines of his torso-staring until a elbow jabbed his ribs. "I think that is all I can do today. I got a lot done though, caught up in a lot of class work. I may be a more permanent resident to this stool Joe. I think it is about time we head out. My mom probably texted me a dozen times wondering where I am. I should let Nanako know where you are too." Reki pulled out his phone to text both their moms, not seeing the looks Joe and Cherry sent Langa's way.

"I forget. I can't help it. And my mom loves Reki, she'll say yes to anything he asks her." Langa tried to explain himself, Joe laughed and Cherry shook his head. Reki finished texting and packed up hi things, a light aura of pride coming from him.

"I did it. I can turn in this week's assignments. I got all my work done. Thank you Langa, Cherry, Joe, for all you help. We need to get going." Reki hopped down from the stool and wobbled slightly. He swallowed once, twice. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, obviously considering something. "Is this hunger? Am I thirsty? Eh, maybe just a good night's rest will do me in." Reki thought aloud. He shrugged his bag on, waiting patiently for Langa to get down, unaware of what he just said. He curled his fingers inward rubbing his nails against each other making a light ticking noise, rocking heel to toe.

Langa looked towards Joe's ceiling, seeming to pray for patience. 'This idiot, my god. He would be dead without someone to take care of him. How has he survived this long?'"I'm coming Reki. We can go home. Am I staying over tonight?" Langa asked.

"If you want yeah. You should call your mom though. She probably would like to hear from her only son." Reki teased as Langa gathered his things.

"Hey, Reki! Here, this is for you. Drink it on your way home, okay?" Joe handed Reki a large to-go cup. "Kaoru likes smoothies at the end of the night sometimes so I made a little extra for you. I know that sometimes food is just too much but you need something in you. Don't worry it tastes fine and only has a little bit of the healthy stuff in it. Promise." Reki took the cup beaming at Joe.

"Thank you. I know that I don't make sense, and some of the things I do make me a burden but I can't help it. So thank you for understanding." Reki bowed and hurried out the door, embarrassed. Langa hurried after him, calling a farewell over his shoulder.

Joe watched them skate away, a small smile on his face. 'He'll be fine. He has a whole family looking out for him.' Joe went back to Kaoru who was impatiently waiting for his nightly glass of wine, no smoothie in sight.

[adhdtoomanycommas]

ADHD, Gifted Programs, and Accidental Accommodations

So one big thing has been on my mind pretty consistently since I got diagnosed last year at the age of 30—why did it take so long to figure this out?  At no point in my K-12 education or my 4 year bachelor’s degree schooling did any teacher or counselor question or suggest I may have ADHD, despite the fact that I check nearly every single box on every diagnostic criteria (both inattentive and hyperactive!)

One obvious reason is sexism.  Pretty early in my reading on the subject, I learned that ADHD is dramatically under-diagnosed in girls and women. Partly this is because of different presentations, but a lot of it is just that the stereotype people have in their heads of what an ADHD kid looks like is always a boy.  

But the other big reason, and the one I want to talk about today, is the fact that one of the few ADHD diagnostic boxes that I didn’t check was “bad grades.”  So really, the question is, why weren’t my grades bad?

That’s not to say I was especially good at school work. My backpacks, desks, and binders were always a complete mess, and I NEVER did the homework.  I would do the big projects (at the last possible second, of course) but daily homework just straight up didn’t happen.   If there was time left at the end of class I would sometimes quickly do the homework for the next day, and occasionally jot down some approximation of it in the minute or two before class started, but when I was actually at home, I never touched it.

But here’s the thing with ADHD brains:  We can focus on things with no problem, as long as we find them interesting.  And I’ve always read quickly enough that doing the reading for class was usually interesting. And for the most part, the class content itself usually seemed interesting enough.    But probably most importantly, I consider tests interesting. There’s always been enough of a challenge racing-the-clock game-like aspect to them to me that I would stay engaged on the tests, and even if didn’t completely know the material, I was good at using logic to get a pretty good guess (like using all those tricks they teach for standardized tests—narrowing down the options on a multiple choice question, looking for answers in the other questions, etc.)

So even in the classes where turning in the daily homework counted for part of the grade (math and language classes mostly) I was usually able to scrape a B with only the occasional C thrown in,  and everything else was A’s.  

But part of my saving grace was the “gifted” classes.  I was very lucky that, despite not knowing about her own (probable) ADHD,  my mom knew enough about how she worked as a student to know that me (and my brother) really needed to be engaged and challenged in order to thrive.  Because of this, she advocated for us hard—she insisted we be allowed in my elementary school’s “gifted” program in kindergarten (based on our test scores of course)  even though the “gifted” program officially wasn’t even available until first grade.  And when we moved to a different state, she advocated for us again and got us included even though the “gifted” class was “full.”   She knew that nothing would make us fail faster than being bored in class, so she made sure that there was at least one day a week when we would be challenged and actually get to engage with material we found interesting.  

Aside,  despite how essential they were for me to thrive in school,  the entire concept of “gifted” programs and “gifted” kids is problematic as hell.  Half of the screening is basically just looking for class signifiers and seeing whose parents had enough free time to give them a head start (or whose parents have the time to advocate for their kids the way my mom did for me).  Not to mention there’s likely a massive racial bias. So in all this discussion of why I did ok despite my ADHD, it’s important to note that there’s a lot of privilege at play here determining who gets access to these types of programs.  

This is also why I keep putting “gifted” in quotes--  I don’t think there is anything inherent about academic ability. Also, academic ability, reading ability, testing aptitude, etc. are definitely not indicative of intelligence. Plus the entire concept of the measurability of intelligence is based on eugenics ideas, so clearly one should take the whole thing with a huge grain of salt.

Nowadays the term all the parenting blogs like to use for kids like me, with ADHD (or dyslexia, or autism, or whatever else) who also test well enough to be flagged as “gifted,”  is “Twice Exceptional”  which is a term that makes me immediately want to punch whoever uses it. Seriously,  it makes me gag.  Like, it doubles down on the “special” euphemism and seems entirely designed to make parents feel better about their kid without any consideration to how the kid feels.  No kid wants to be singled out, especially one who’s already probably pretty socially isolated (which I could digress about but that’ll be another essay for another day), and being Twice singled out certainly doesn’t help anything.  

But ultimately the teaching in the “gifted” class itself wound up being really good accommodations for ADHD. I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if they were better than the accommodations in the separate classes actually intended for kids with ADHD and other learning issues, though since I wasn’t diagnosed as I kid I can’t actually speak to that as I don’t have any experience there.  But in the gifted classes, firstly, we were given more specific subjects as opposed to the overviews we got in regular classes.  And it’s way easier to be engaged on specific subjects like ice age mammals, or the wreck of the Titanic, than it is to be engaged with a broad list of dates or categories.  We did logic problems that were presented as games, but that were indirectly teaching us the basics for higher level math. In 6th grade, we did research projects and got to pick our own subjects completely, so we could write about whatever we were hyperfixating on at the moment (mine was on medieval warfare as depicted in the Bayeux tapestry).   And if we happened to get excited and blurt out an interesting fact vaguely related to whatever was being discussed, that was likely encouraged instead of reprimanded like it would be in the normal classroom. This continued into high school, as honors and AP level classes tended to be a lot more discussion based rather than the top-down approach at other levels, as well as affording more opportunity to choose one’s own subjects.

The story you’ll hear from (or about) a lot of ADHD kids (especially undiagnosed) flagged as “gifted” is of hitting a wall at some point, academically speaking.  That did happen to me briefly, in middle school. We started being assigned a lot more long-term projects, and there was a bit of a learning curve while I figured out how to put things off Until the last minute and not Past the last minute.  But thanks to some patient teachers who believed in me (which I might not have had outside of honors classes), I managed to pull out of it and improve my grades (with the exception of the only report-card F of my entire academic career, from a sadistic gym teacher who seemed to think that enough berating would cure asthma).

Even more stories I’ve read and heard from people who were diagnosed with ADHD as an adult say they hit that wall academically when they started college—the first time they were really self-guided in their studies.  But again, there, I was saved by an honors program.  In this case,  it was the Honors Tutorial College,  a truly strange program at Ohio University.  I was tracked into HTC by one particular professor who very much wanted HTC to expand into the art program and decided that because I had both strong test scores and a strong art portfolio (and probably, lets be real, because I was the daughter of one of the other professors) that I was the perfect person to be the first student in the new program.

OU’s website describes HTC as “flexible curriculum and one-on-one tutorials with renowned faculty that allow your curiosity to take the lead in your education.” It’s rigorous, but comes with a lot of perks, like waiving certain gen-ed classes,  being able to take classes without first taking the required prerequisites,  and designing one’s own independent study classes individually with instructors.  And those perks are (as far as I know entirely accidentally) the perfect accommodations for an ADHD student (and probably pretty good for Autistic ones as well, based on some of my peers in the program).

A lot of the gen-ed classes I waived were ones I probably would have been bored in and thusly not done well.  Being able to skip pre-reqs meant that, for instance, for my English requirements I was able to take far more interesting classes like Shakespeare’s Comedies,  YA Lit,  and Playwriting instead of English 101, 102 etc.  If I wanted to learn about something in particular, I had help finding a professor willing to help me in an independent study/tutorial class.  Being the pilot of the program meant I was able to shape it so that I could get an art degree without ever having to choose one medium (which as far as I know is still an option for anyone pursuing an HTC Studio Art degree).  And at the end of the program, when we were required to complete a massive thesis project and paper (at basically graduate level), not only could I choose my subject to meet my hyperfixations, but I had individual help from a professor keeping me on task on the less-fun parts at every step of the way.  

HTC students are required to keep their GPAs above a high threshold. At one point one of my grades (in Latin class) was low enough to hurt my average, and I was called into HTC headquarters for a check-in meeting.  I was asked why my grade had fallen, and I explained that the class wasn’t that interesting (at that level it was mostly grammar) but that it was getting better as we were moving up into translating more actual historical material. That explanation was entirely accepted.  Imagine if “it’s not interesting enough” was considered a valid excuse for grades slipping for everyone, how much less stressful school would be for ADHD kids!

So ultimately it’s pretty much been having the luck and privilege to get myself flagged for “gifted” classes that kept my grades up throughout my school years.  Accidental accommodations have continued into my adult life as well. At my most recent office job, for instance (which I lost due to covid layoffs), I had a pretty hands-off boss who just didn’t care if I doodled, got up to stretch my legs every once in a while, and listened to audiobooks at my desk all day as long as the work got done.  

I didn’t need a diagnosis to get these accommodations, because they were given freely, which meant I was able to succeed even without knowing about my own ADHD.  If I had been diagnosed, and had had to ask for accommodations, I wonder if I would have done as well as bias against people with ADHD means people wouldn’t have expected as much from me.  

So if you’ve made it this far, I’ll ask for the same for others that I got for myself.  If you are a teacher (or a manager in an office setting),  I strongly encourage you to consider how to make your classroom, office, etc. more accessible in general, without someone having to disclose a diagnosis or be singled out for accommodations.  The biggest easiest one you can do is to allow (or even encourage) doodling in lecture settings. Even for neurotypicals,  there have been plenty of studies proving people retain information better when doodling, so everyone should know by now that someone doodling doesn’t mean they’re not listening.   If at all possible, encourage discussion and contribution.  Give everyone breaks to stretch and move around.  And give as much freedom as possible on what to learn about.  You might be surprised what people are capable of when these reasonable steps are taken to give everyone room to thrive.  

That’s all for now,  hopefully you got something out of this unwieldy ramble.   I’d be curious to hear if you’ve run into any accidental accommodations in your life and how they’ve helped.  Until next time!

[thalmor-banjo]

This is a vent post but I have to get this off my chest.

I have ADHD, but it’s undiagnosed by medical professionals. I think it’s pretty mild, but I still have issues with schoolwork, personal projects, etc.

I stim when feeling very overwhelmed/intense feelings. Sometimes it’s happy flapping from a good fanfic or amazing scene from my favorite show. Other times it’s angry jerks. If I stim when I’m angry everyone shuts me down immediately and says I need to, “Get control of your (my) emotions.” When I was small I wouldn’t hide my stimming and no one really thought it was anything unusual, but as I grew I learned to mask it (because I was intermittently taken to therapy for years). Now I mask in public but when I’m alone, it kinda just all comes out, ya know? And it feels good and happy and oh my god do I love it. But if I do it in front of anyone else (who doesn’t know, some of my close friends do and I’m comfortable being myself in front of them), they’ll look at me like I’m fucking insane.

Another thing, I get overstimulated occasionally. Most of the time I'm ok and can slip out of the situation, but sometimes I'm really really not. (Some background, I have an autistic sister, but outside of her specific situation my family is v ableist.). During quarantine I've stopped masking as much (because it's literally impossible to keep up 24/7) and it's been...detrimental to say the least. Whenever I visibly get overstimulated, someone in my family will notice, then they'll all intensify the behavior ("Exposure therapy is the cure for being overwhelmed"-my lovely mother). I hate it so much. Like I'm obviously in discomfort, can you fuck off???

This March something happened. I'm not sure if it was some kind of breakdown or what, but I just couldn't anymore. The whole day I was on edge, but being forced to sit in the cold living room, not allowed to listen to music or have a blanket, just being forced to work, it fucked with me. My thoughts were too loud for my head. I kept trying to work and they just would shut the fuck up. I tried to explain, but no one would listen. I lost it. Started crying, begging for my headphones. My thoughts were too loud and I couldn't push them down. It wasn't like they were meaningful, I just couldn't focus. It felt like they were ballooning up into my throat, blocking the words I so desperately wanted to scream. Instead, all that came out was, "it's too loud" or something of that vein. I had reached a breaking point. I can't even describe how it felt in words. I was so panicky because my family wanted this work to be done and I was trying so hard but my thoughts were too loud and I just wanted to be in my warm bed snuggled up but I couldn't because who knows why and I had to sit in this cold chair that was sticking to my thighs. The words to describe what I was feeling just couldn't come out past the great nothingness blocking them. They (mis padres) were texting the entire time this was happening. I found out later what they were. Here's my favorites, "she's (I'm trans and they misgender me constantly omfg but that's for another day) acting like River (a character from Joss Whedon's Firefly, one of my absolute favorites. They had just shown it to me the past week. The implication being I was acting out to get out of work, that I was just faking)," "If she (ew ew ew she/her get it awayyyyyyyyy) were a dude, I would punch her (again, they're implying I'm acting out for attention and trying to skip out on work while also being incredibly ableist.).". My parents, the people who have teared me since birth, let me shatter and crunch under their unsympathetic feet. When I tried to communicate my suffering, they turned away, assuming it was all an act and none of it was real. It really stung at the time, and I still don't trust them with a lot of my real thoughts.

Probably the final thing, hyperfixations. I don't forget to eat or drink when hyperfixating (although sleep can be an issue). Not sure why, but it just works out that way. Recently I fell head over heels for the Mandalorian. Space westerns are just my thang (looking at you Firefly). Mando is this battle hardened man who's so devoted to his religion and yet a little green baby comes along and changes it all. My favorite episode is Chapter 15, spoilers ahead. I hate Mayfeld, so much like oh my god. But he makes a good point about lines we're not willing to cross until lines get blurred. It really spoke to me. SPOILER When Din is forced to take off his helmet to do the scan, my heart dropped. I've had to break promises (that I've made to myself) to keep safe (ex: coming out in 2020). But it wasn't just some throwaway vow. This was his religion, his entire way of life. And his sect says you are no longer Mandalorian after removing the helmet, that taking it off means never putting it back on. It's incredibly moving and speaks to something in me; there's a reason it's my favorite episode (so far). And also part of it is that Pedro Pascal is really fucking handsome. Like IRL I'd probably have a squish on him more than anything else, but he's still really hot. Anywayyyyyyyy, back from the tangent, I've watched it at least four, maybe five, times. Chapter 15 is a good episode and it makes me happy. A note: my family (aside from one other member) is aggressively heterosexual and cisgender. Like any time I talk about the future they're immediately like "oh yeah, you'll tell your husband and kids about this later.". It grates on my nerves so much. Like I'm not straight, never will be, and would rather adopt and help (a) kid(s) that need a home rather than bringing another human into the world. Idk if it's just me, but the way they imply I'll have a heterosexual relationship as a cis woman who fucks her husband is just weird and uncomfortable. I don't wanna talk about my sex life with them, nor 1} who I'd like to fuck 2} how I'd like to fuck 3} when I'd like to fuck. Long story short I don't want them to know that I enjoy Pedro Pascal's acting because they'll fucking hound me on it. I wish I didn't have to protect myself and not reveal my thoughts, to keep everything rolling around upstairs from falling off my lips. Then they act like I'm unreasonable for not wanting to share what I'm smiling about. How my sister (who's also ND), starting seeing memories from her past lives. I don't know enough about that kinda stuff to say anything meaningful. I know if I'd have said that my parents would have scoffed and ignored me, but when sister says it, the words are coming directly from God's lips. But when I brought up reality shifting ( something I've been attempting since October), father asked if it was somehow possible for everyone to share a hallucination across thousands of miles. I just wish they'd treat me like they treat her. Like a human bean who deserves to be believed and respected.

I just wanna be able to stim and enjoy things I love without being "normal.".

Anyway, sorry for the long rant, thanks for listening/reading, here's a gif of this absolute human cinnamon bun of a human bean (description, it's Pedro Pascal glancing to the side, raising his brows, looking back, smiling, and then opening his eyes and mouth to make a goofy face):

[erinoddly]

Can I just rant for a bit?

Okay so. Discussions on representation of mental disorders under the cut

Also probably a little bit of passive aggressiveness oops

Alright, I’m going to preface this by saying a couple of things.

1. I’m not a mental health professional. All I’ve got going for me in that regard is that I’ve taken one psychology class in college. Which is to say...nothing.

2. I am diagnosed with, though currently not being treated for, Bipolar Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, minor OCD, and insomnia (which isn’t a mental disorder, but I’m putting it in here anyway). I’m also, though undiagnosed, most likely ADHD. I’ve been dealing with mental disorders for at least 13-14 years now, if not longer.

3. Everybody experiences mental disorders differently. Nothing is universal. So I’m only drawing off of my own experiences for this post.

Let’s get into the meat of my rant. Or...actually....probably two rants. One about how mental disorders and representation in media and one about Bipolar in specific, since those are both things that I’m thinking about today.

Mental disorders are not a character trait. They are an illness and need to be treated as such.

I saw this a lot when I was younger, mostly with younger teens/kids building their first OCs. They be writing out their personality description and use “bipolar” or some other mental disorder as  a descriptor for their personality. But, like I said, those were mostly kids who didn’t really understand what they were doing and were likely uneducated on these topics, so I’m not trying to shame them for that.

But I’ve seen something similar. Recently. In writeblr (though I’m not going to call anyone out. Partially because I’m sure they wouldn’t listen to me even if I did.) Where symptoms of mental disorders are intentionally disregarded as such and are instead purposefully used as character traits, where mental disorders are considered to not be ‘illnesses’ but are instead just parts of people’s character. And part of me understands how that could be cathartic...

But it’s extremely damaging to others, especially impressionable younger people.

As I said, I’m mostly drawing off of my own experiences here, so feel free to enter into a discussion with me if you disagree or feel differently. I’m 

I have extremely low self-esteem. That’s just a fact of life. I’m not sure what caused it and I don’t feel like delving deep enough into my mindset to figure it out. And let me tell you, being diagnosed with mental disorders did not help a single bit. 

Society is, at least in my eyes, beginning to get a little more accepting about mental disorders. As long as those disorders are Depression and Anxiety and your symptoms are mild enough that they don’t effect the people around you, that is. But the fact of the matter is, other disorders are still heavily stigmatized. As are the symptoms. And so if you try and tell me that the symptoms of my disorder aren’t that, but are instead just inherent traits of who I am, it honestly makes me feel even worse about myself.

Even beyond that, there’s a fine line that I feel people with mental disorders need to walk. On one side, you have to accept that your disorder isn’t going away. It can’t be cured and it’s going to stay with you. It is, all things considered, a part of you. On the other side, you have to create some distance between yourself and your disorder. You can’t let it define you and you can’t use it as an excuse. And yeah, there’s a fine line between the two. It’s a line that I’m still learning to walk and it’s a line that I do stumble off of sometimes. But letting your mental disorder define you is dangerous both for yourself and for the people around you, as well as creating even more harmful stigmas about mental disorders that effect those that can’t let themselves be defined by it for their own well-being.

Thinking this way also leads to a mindset that people don’t need treatment. And even though I might be untreated as of right now, I am 100% for people with mental disorders getting treated. It takes some time, it takes some trial and error, but there are treatments that work. Personally, I went through a crap ton of medication before I found a combination that worked. Not to mention that this was worsened by the fact that I was misdiagnosed as Depressed for years before being diagnosed as Bipolar. And also, therapy doesn’t work for me. I’ve tried multiple therapists and haven’t found one that really, truly helps. But the fact of the matter is that for a good number of people, they do. I will never tell someone talking to me about their problems not to talk to a doctor or get in to see a therapist if they have the means to do so. Treatment helps. And getting treated, if you’re getting the right treatment, makes life so much easier to live. But telling people that their symptoms are just a part of them is telling them that it’s 100% okay for them to feel and act that way and that there’s no need to get treated, even if that treatment might actually make them feel better. You’re sacrificing their well-being to further your own ideals that mental disorders shouldn’t been seen as illnesses.

But that’s just it. They are illnesses. And they need to be treated, just like any other illness.

And that’s another thing. Mental illnesses are already seen as “fake” or “not that bad” in society. They already aren’t considered actual illnesses. So if I want to miss work because I had a cold, that’s fine. But if I want to stay home because I’m in the middle of a massive depressive episode and I’ve been staring at the wall for nine hours because I can’t get out of bed, it’s just me making excuses and being lazy. This mindset just furthers this issue.

(also I lived with a girl once who refused an treatment for her mental disorders because she refused to admit she had any disorders and that all her symptoms were just part of her personality. She also tried one (read that again. one.) anti-depressant and it didn’t help. She didn’t even try any more. And let me just tell you. Every single person in our house was completely miserable. Because her symptoms were awful and effected not only her, but how she treated others. And she refused to acknowledge any of it or try and seek out help because “it was just a part of her.”)

Now. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that people need to write stories that are brutally realistic about the stigmatization of mental disorders. That’s not at all what I’m trying to get at. But we do need to normalize accepting yourself for your disorder without letting it define you. And we also need to normalize getting treatment. Because trust me, being extremely depressed and dealing with suicidal thoughts isn’t normal. You need to get help for that. And it’s terrible when you feel like you can’t or don’t need to get treated because society looks down on people on medication or in therapy and makes you out to be “crazy.” And we need to make sure that others don’t have to go through that. And the best way to do so is to normalize it, not to act like it’s not an issue.

Anyway. That’s all I have to say right now on that. So let’s move to my next issue. Which will much shorter because I’m just....tired.........

Can we.....please........pretty please.........for the love of god please................get some good bipolar representation? i’m begging here.

I’m so tired of the same old shit about “oh this character/whatever is bipolar!! Which obviously means chaotic and violent and unable to control their temper!!!!!”

it’s so shitty and disheartening that that’s the majority of representation that we get. i am the most passive, conflict-adverse, pacifistic person I know. And trust me, I get called out on it all the time. like....yeah. there are people with bipolar disorder that are violent and destructive. but there are also people without that are. and yes, one of the symptoms of bipolar disorder is ‘irritability,’ but that doesn’t mean violent and abusive and constantly angry!!!!

so please....please........let me have some good representation. i’m so tired and upset by the entire “bipolar means destructive and violent” bullshit.....

[enetarch-working-w-adhd]

Why do people need the label ADHD?

I’m sure many managers groan when someone says, “Yes I need accommodations for ADHD”.  And, think, 

Why do you need something special for ADHD? It’s not like you’ve lost a limb!  

So, what is the significance of the label? Before I answer the question, let’s look at a bunch of other labels that people use to describe people with ADHD.

Forgetful, Head Cases, Alzheimer’s Patients, Self Center Nincompoop, Lazy, Crazy, Stupid, Scattered Brained, Unreliable, Day Dreamer, Demented, Insensitive, Disorganized, Depressed, Emotionally Illiterate,  ... 

ADHD is a neurological disorder. Without a diagnosis many people lose their confidence in themselves, their ability to have a fulfilling life, build meaningful relationships, achieve a high school / college degrees, or excel in their carriers.  It is estimated that people with ADHD earn 33% less than their peers. Undiagnosed people with ADHD are more likely to commit suicide.

While ADHD can’t be seen, like those who are paraplegics or someone with diabetes, ADHD has the same effect.  While being a paraplegic and having ADHD seem extremely different, one being where a person has lost a limb or use of a limb, the other person seems physically fine.  But, what you cannot see, is that part of the brain is missing in someone diagnosed with ADHD.  About 3%.  Just enough to affect their emotional center, executive function, and short term memory.  By, any definition, this is a physical handicap. And, as such, should be treated just the same.

Without a diagnosis, I felt like I was left wondering - was I just lazy? I mean, I don't really like doing certain things, so maybe I was just pretending to try and was just really not doing the thing because I didn't feel like it. With a diagnosis, it was like oh hey, actually my brain doesn't work the way other people's do, so the way to try to do things that aren't working out very well probably also isn't going to be the same standard advice given to others. [Anonymous]

You wouldn’t question why someone in a wheelchair needs accommodations to work, you’d provide them, as long as they can perform the work. The same is true for someone diagnosed with diabetes, while you can’t see the disorder, eventually you can see how it affects them when their blood sugar is too low or too high.

Being labeled with ADHD helps them understand why they are struggling personally; why they keep making the same mistake over and over again, even though they repeatedly say they won’t do it again; having so many frustrating moments; and can’t seem to get ahead. It helps them understand why other’s keep using derogatory labels to describe them, their work, and their lack of motivation. The label helps someone with ADHD understand and accept who / what they are. It improves their self esteem and self awareness. They can now relax, knowing that they are normal - for who they are.

The label helps them find others who have a similar condition, find resources, find help, discuss the problems associated with ADHD, find ways to cope, and access to treatment regiments. Being diagnosed unlocks several legal benefits and protections provided by government programs, such as anti-discrimination laws; insurance; medical help, intervention programs, and medications; and personal coaching assistance programs.  

But most importantly, being labeled ADHD validates their intuitive understanding that they are not like other people, and rebuild and restore their confidence. Once they understand how their brain works, it helps them resolve past traumas, and helps them perform to the best of their abilities. And, it helps them explain to friends, family and co-workers what’s going on.  Which, in turn, helps them rebuild their community support.

For me it gave me answers and looking back on my childhood and it explains so many things etc. [Anonymous]

Would you rather spend forever thinking that you're broken and/or defective, instead of finding out that what's hindering you has a name and can be dealt with? [Anonymous]

[dear-wormwoods]

i know that eddie's first encounter with It and the way It manifests itself as his fear is very telling of him being gay, but what do you think the encounters It had with the other members of the loser's club (like mike with the bird, stan with the dead boys, etc) are indicative of?

Okay Let’s Talk About the Losers’ Fears!

The interesting thing about IT is that, for most kids, the fears IT manifests as are pretty basic. Movie monsters, comic book monsters, vampires, mummies, etc. So not all the Losers have super deep meanings behind their fears, the way Eddie and Beverly do, and I think it definitely reflects the level of contentment they experience in their every day life. Obviously Eddie’s IT experiences are symbolic of his fear of his sexuality and the self-loathing that comes along with that, disguised as a ‘diseases are gross!’ sort of thing because that’s easier to process for a little kid (and because IT needs something physical to take the shape of). We don’t need to rehash that. But as for the others…

Beverly is not afraid of blood, her fear is much deeper than that, blood is just the easiest physical representation for what she really does fear, which is her own womanhood. In one of MANY parallels between Eddie and Bev, both of their fears are based on gender and sexuality, and both fears exist, at least in part, because of their abusive home lives. Bev’s fear takes on the disguise of ‘blood is gross!’ but really it’s about puberty and menstruation, and what that change will mean for her sexually - because her dad never stops talking about how boys look at her, and what her role will be as a woman re: having sex with boys. And this isn’t the first time King has used blood symbolism for a girl’s fear of the sexual unknown - he did it in Carrie too (and lbr if Eddie and Beverly were fused together into one character, it would be Carrie and if Sonia and Alvin were fused into one character, it would be Carrie’s crazy fucking mother).

Next we have Bill, whose fear is pretty self-explanatory. IT always manifests as something Georgie-related for him, but what Bill fears most is not literally Georgie’s corpse, it’s Georgie BLAMING him for his death. Bill feels incredible guilt for what happened to Georgie, and feels responsible because he helped make the paper boat and because he was too sick to go out with Georgie that day and therefore could not protect him (this comes up again and again re: his insistence that Eddie not leave his line of sight like, ever, because he’s projecting his Georgie guilt). Bill actually comes the closest to ‘losing’ to IT because his fear is the most emotional - he almost gives in to the apparition of Georgie basically accusing him of murder, and would have, were it not for the other Losers (particularly Eddie) screeching that it isn’t really Georgie.

Richie’s fears are all based around movie monsters, but they’re a little more symbolic than that because of one small addition: Richie’s name being used repeatedly as a label FOR IT’s manifestations. IT also seems to talk to Richie more, because taunting him is more effective than just existing as a visual. On top of that, IT takes multiple forms for Richie, which is unusual. So we have three (unless I’m forgetting one) - the Crawling Eye, the Werewolf, and Paul Bunyan. The Crawling Eye is a movie monster that really freaked Richie out as a kid to the point where he’d have nightmares about it and wet the bed, and he has a lot of eye-related body horror dreams and it’s pretty gross… dreaming about eyes can symbolize needing to (or refusing to) look inward, and dreaming about something being in/hurting your eyes can symbolize being unable to (or refusing to) confront certain truths, or avoiding emotional intimacy. All of this can easily be applied to Richie, the King of Avoidance, and it’s particularly interesting that the Eddie is the one who injures the Eye, and encourages Richie to fight it too, and that Eddie is mentioned by IT later on in relation to the Eye (the SHOES THING also ties into the Eye whenever it comes up!). So there’s THAT. The Crawling Eye, imo, stands for Richie’s denial and emotional stagnation. 

The Werewolf is also a movie monster, and Richie was very effected by the plight of the teenage werewolf when he watched that movie - so it’s telling that when IT manifests as the werewolf, it is wearing a jacket with Richie’s name stitched into it. I know this has been said over and over, but Richie relates to the werewolf on some level because the werewolf is seen by its peers as a horrible monster, but it’s something it cannot help, and while it presents as ‘normal’ most of the time, when the ‘monster comes out’, it’s instantly ostracized from society. Richie sees himself as a ‘monster’ because he’s consistently treated as annoying, or ‘too much’, or borderline-suicidal to the point where he scares a lot of people off from wanting to get to know him. He feels guilty about being a burden on his parents, he hates that he constantly gets himself into trouble for things he can’t seem to control (undiagnosed and untreated ADHD, most likely), and on top of all that, he’s also hyper-aware of the dangers of ‘looking queer’ in public if he’s caught being affectionate with his male friends. There is a lot going on in Richie’s head that all point to him being very aware that he’s not ‘like everyone else’, but he can’t help it, so Richie sees himself reflected in the Teenage Werewolf… and IT knows that, and tries to use that to ITs advantage. 

FINALLY, there’s the Paul Bunyan statue, which involves a little more reaching to figure out, so bear with me if this sounds insane… Paul Bunyan, in a way, represents Richie as well. Richie is well aware that the statue is an attention-grabber, but it’s also kitschy and stupid looking - he himself describes it as having a ‘cheerful vulgarity’. It’s big and loud, but people hate it and think it’s lame. Richie wants attention, but he’s afraid of being Paul Bunyan - he wants to be GOOD at something, and get attention because of his skill and his humor, not just because he’s loud and ridiculous. He doesn’t want to be talked about as “horrible, garish, and unbelievably gauche”, the way Derry townsfolk talk about Paul. As an adult, Paul turns into the clown and has a literal, casual conversation with Richie, and then eventually turns into Buddy Holly - a musician Richie admired and related to, who died tragically young - only Buddy’s glasses weren’t his usual glasses - they were Richie’s glasses, mended with adhesive tape. So even then, he’s sort of seeing parts of HIMSELF in what IT appears as. SOOO LONG STORY SHORT, Richie is his own worst fear. 

Stan’s encounter with IT, I think, was meant to push the boundaries of what his  mind would accept as ‘real’. Stan’s whole worldview was based on order and a certain expectation of reality being… reality. So IT created a visual as ridiculous as possible, while still maintaining some level of offensive realism (by using corpses of real kids who drowned in the Standpipe) and creating a multi-sensory onslaught that Stan couldn’t deny - music, smells, visuals, etc. ITs goal wasn’t to scare Stan so much as break him, but Stan was able to ground himself in reality with his bird book well enough to escape. But what he takes away from the experience in the end is being offended by what happened. He doesn’t give a shit about being scared, he’s just plain OFFENDED by what he saw. So I think Stan’s kids-in-the-Standpipe experience was meant to just…. totally insult the way he sees the world around him. It’s also one of the coolest visuals in the novel and I will be forever angry that the movie changed his IT experience so completely. 

Ben’s IT encounters are SUPER typical… movie monsters, Halloween costume type of shit, like most of the other Derry kids who became ITs victims. The clown with the balloons floating against the wind, the mummy, the vampire… but unlike Richie, I don’t think there is much deeper meaning to it than just being your run of the mill scary shit, because unlike Richie, Ben doesn’t hate himself. Ben is pretty damn content with his life. He loves his mom, they have a close relationship, he doesn’t have any friends before the Losers but he wasn’t bent out of shape about it… he was fine with being alone, and just being a good student, a quiet bookish kid, and he liked buying candy and eating it in front of the TV with his little bathrobe on. Like, Ben was chill. He was confident in what he liked and what he knew how to do, he was a real ‘you do you’ kid. He wasn’t even THAT upset about being fat until other kids made fun of him for it. So Ben’s just going through life, more comfortable than the other Losers. He’s content with his gender and sexuality, he’s content with his skill set and his interests, he doesn’t care about how others perceive him, he’s adaptable, and he’s not plagued with guilt. So IT doesn’t really have a TON to work with, lmao. Movie monsters are all IT has at ITs disposal when it comes to Ben, and that’s all there is to it. And in general, Ben is one of the least affected by IT… he really doesn’t even seem that afraid of IT, on the whole, but he reacts most strongly to the things that sort of go against the laws of physics (the balloons moving against the wind, the Neibolt House seeming to change shape and size)… but even then, the only real symbolism there is that Ben loves physics and architecture. 

Lastly, Mike’s experience with IT is… interesting. I’ve talked about this a lot with @mikehanlonstan and we can’t really come up with good symbolism for the bird aside from the simple ‘he was attacked by a bird as a baby’ explanation from the novel. Which would be fine, if it weren’t for the fact that Mike’s dad… saw the same bird?? Like, what is it with the Hanlons and this weird bird? Who knows, I sure don’t. I was looking for racism symbolism but like… I feel like ‘It’s a bird… like a crow, get it?? Like Jim Crow??” is too lazy even for Stephen King. Also it wasn’t a crow, anyway… it was something that doesn’t exist in the real world, otherwise Stan wouldn’t have been able to get it to go away with his bird facts later on. If anything it just establishes a stronger connection between him and his father, and the long-term connection they both have to IT.

[carousels-on-fire]

If you’re wondering why I haven’t been posting text posts or posting much in general on here anymore, here’s why.  I kind of realized one of the big depression triggers I have just stopped affecting me. I stopped clinging to an old relationship/old friendship when I realized it had always been unequal. Not by any fault of my own, but because that person is only capable of a few close connections at a time and I just wasn’t one of them. I always saw it as proof of my own low worth/value, or proof that I was unlovable, or something of that sort. But then realized, I have friends where...while I care if something happens to them, I don’t keep up with them. I don’t check in on them. We like each other’s facebook posts from time to time, but we’re no longer a big part of each others lives. I never realized this friendship had...downgraded so to speak. I always thought of them as top tier, would die for this person, while they thought of me as ‘person I sometimes hang out with when in town, and sometimes text.’ I think it had always been that way. I loved them so much, so deeply and so intensely, and they liked me but the depth was never the same. My ocean to their teaspoonful of water. But its not their fault, their ocean was for other people.  I’ve always formed intense, one-sided connections, mostly as a way of coping with the extreme loneliness and alienation I feel, even when I’m actively making friends and surrounded by people who like me. That ‘not belonging, not important’ feeling never goes away. Mostly it was with people I liked who didn’t really know or notice me, most often it was band members that I’d become obsessed with, and then with the aforementioned first love/first everything. I think that made it worse. I made it much more than it ever was in my head, because unlike the band members and the unrequited crushes, this was something tangible, something had worked for a moment, something I always thought might work out in the end. And it was always easier to cling to a ‘might be’ than it is to throw yourself into the terrifying world of ‘very likely to be’s’ if I actually put myself out there meeting people rather than projecting these introverted, one sided crushes that had no real hope of working out. But just enough hope that it felt like waiting for something real. I could say it got in the way of a lot of potential relationships, but I don’t think any of them would’ve worked out anyway. I had to make it through this. I had to realize what I was doing and be aware of it. I had to give up on them fully and completely. But I also lost a lot of years of my life to the emotional fallout of that one relationship. I lost a lot of my 20s to depression, and the worst part is...that person who caused a lot of it through sheer obliviousness, will never know. Its not even their fault really, I suppose, this probably would have happened with whoever I happened to end up with first, sparing some perfect match. And, a lot of that depression is most likely due to untreated/undiagnosed ADHD. So I can’t blame them entirely for all of it. I think I was headed down a collision path with all the trauma about my own life that I never confronted. It took a long time to realize my life wasn’t normal and that I wasn’t crazy, and that there were real reasons for how horribly things fell apart during my college years. But I think I reached a point where I realized I was dragging this on and dragging my feet one something I really didn’t want anymore. I realized I didn’t care in that way and wish them their life of happiness that doesn’t include me. I’m not even bitter, I’m indifferent now, and it took a very long time to become indifferent. I realized no one who well and truly cared would let this go on, and now it doesn’t matter. My depression was always dysthymia, triggered by a specific event, and once the event was dealt with in my mind, things got better. It didn’t go away completely, but it felt like a kind of fog lifted.   I mean I still think I’m going to die alone, but I think it’ll be because of lack of opportunity rather than subconsciously ignoring or sabotaging everything in favor of an off-chance. Or because I’m inherently unlovable. (Though I still do kind of think that the sort of woman I go for normally, probably wouldn’t go for me.) I always wanted my life to be like a movie, like a rom com, like a story of a character beating impossible odds. It took a long time to come to terms with my life potentially never being anything more than ordinary. Obscurity. Finding love with someone who’s avererage, rather than ‘epic love story love of your life.’  And that made it much less depressing to come home to an empty twin bed in my parents house, in my teenage bedroom every night, and go to sleep and get up for my average, unromantic, boring, working life. I’m learning to live with my bad choices making everything so much harder for me, and learning to live with how hard I’ll need to work to get out of here.  I’m trying to be nice to people, I’m trying to get along with the people in my environment because I’ve realized no ones coming to save me. No ones coming to make my horrible dull little life something worth living, I’m just going to have to endure until maybe, one day, I save up enough to live somewhere I can be a person. I’m preparing myself for the inevitability that one of my parents has a worsening health problem that will cripple us in a few years. 

I’m trying not to let my bitterness and despair make me an unpleasant person to be around. I used to be a much...happier person. A much more goofy, more cheerful, less guarded, more hopeful person than I am now. I don’t think I can be that person again. I’ve lived too much. But maybe I can make it close. My life isn’t happier. The depression isn’t gone. But I think I’ve stopped caring about the things that used to hurt me so deeply. I’ve stopped waiting for a fairy tale. I’m trying to read as much as I can, because that’s how I coped before when I was a teenager. Its strange, having this second adolescence where I read and draw and I sew and I wait to be allowed to be a person. Except I’m so much more tired.  I’m too tired to interact with anyone. I feel so numb, but I’m not crying about it anymore. I’m just here. Trying.  I also realized no one really reads these, and people feeling bad for me really didn’t help. It just made me feel guilty. So I’ve stopped writing sad posts with the exception of this one. I’m hoping my life will get better, but I’m also not holding my breath. But I’m also not very very slightly in love with the person I thought I was for almost a decade, and honestly, hadn’t been for most of that time. And I’m coming to terms with being older. With never being able to go back to how things were.To not being able to go back to who I was. That the world is a much harsher, darker place. But I don’t want to die nearly as much now. 

[keyhala]

So... about life.

I've been wanting to write this for a while. I just haven't had the time, the energy, or the willingness to accept 'defeat'.

It's a long one, so below cut for length.

Some of you might remember a post I made back in 2017, which dealt with all the things that happened to me and Shortstuff between 2014 and 2016, leaving us to leave the house we'd bought, move one and a half hour away from my working place and just... destroyed us with how her mother could not behave like an adult and had to villainize us for... well, nothing.

For those of you who haven't, the post is here. Please feel free to read it.

At the time, I expressed a hope that things would get better from there on out. That we could manage the years we'd promised to rent the house out for, and things could... get better.

They didn't.

The brother said he was going to buy the house after renting it, but a few months in, he decides he doesn't want it. It has too many problems. He complains the bills are too high (I just send him the bills, I don't forge them, idiot. You pay what you use in electricity and gas) and he complains that we're stealing money from them (We're not. They're paying EXACTLY what the house costs every month, not a penny more. Nothing for upkeep, nothing for renovations, or new utilities, that's ALL on us), and proceeds to NOT PAY HIS BILLS for several months.

At the time, the mother at least steps in and pays what's due, so it's all okay. 2017 is going okay, for a bit.

Then Shortstuff's student funding is pulled in August. She gets nothing. I say it's fine, you are only studying 50%, finish school. I'll fix the money for now. She get's sick leave 50% FINALLY after years of talking with her psychiatrist, and the next hit hits.

She isn't getting any sick pay, despite being away the 50%, because she's studying, and will be getting her sick pay from her student funding. But... her student funding is zero. She gets nothing. So we go to social services, as for social funding.

She doesn't get any, because I earn money, and I can support her.

In the same breath as this, I start feeling bad. Really bad. I wake up with fevers, shaking, throwing up. I go to work, I feel disconnected, I fall asleep, I get fevers, I feel disoriented. More throwing up, more fever. I call in sick, go to the doctor. They find nothing. Rest up until fever is gone, back to work. Two weeks later, same thing.

This keeps going for a few months, until eventually I decided to make an appointment with the closes emergency psychiatrist as well. She finally connects the dots. I'm burning out, and fast. I'm so stressed I start forgetting things, I get so stressed I get fevers, I am so stressed I can't sleep. Everything is just piling up. She suggest I take 100% sick leave and rest up.

But I'm the only income we have. I can't. I make $2000 and the bills are $1600. cutting out 20% that full sick leave does will put us in the red.

In December, they convince me to take 25% off, and get a sick day in the middle of the week (Wednesday) and see if that helps. 25% means after sick pay I'll have $1800. Just enough for the bills.

But the Government takes its sweet time.

We can't cover our bills. We keep burning through our savings. Stuff at the house breaks, the brother doesn't pay his bills, the MOTHER starts not paying the bills. We go about $1000 in the red one month. Shortstuff decides to try working 10 hours a week despite her inability to do both that and study with her own sick leave, but she does it for my sake. It's not enough, we keep losing savings, we'll go bankrupt if this keeps up.

We decide to sell the house.

WW3 ensues. No, seriously. The mother is FURIOUS, she starts calling, yelling, blowing up. The BROTHER blows up, starts stealing furniture, stops paying bills entirely, tries sabotaging things for the sale. Things get worse at work, too, for Shortstuff.

At work, her mother is there. Her mother who harasses her, makes her feel unsafe, and just generally treats her bad. She gets pulled into the changing room and yelled at for personal stuff, AT WORK and can't say anything back because her mother is a group manager. She get's shoved, told to work more, told to not loiter the moment she stops a second, and just generally feels unsafe and stressed.

She gets home sick, and her mother LEAVES WORK UNANNOUNCED just after lunch to take the one and a half hour trip to our apartment, barge her way in, and proceeds to lecture Shortstuff (40 degrees Celsius of fever, sinus infection and drugged down on fever inhibitors) on what a horrible person she was, how much of a traitor she was, and that she should know that if her sister (who has late-diagnosed diabetes, and also an eating disorder, and who REALLY shouldn't be living with the mother considering how she's acting and behaves) DIES, Shortstuff would have to live with 'having murdered her sister'. She leaves after demanding she show up on Christmas, and stating she wants her 'kind and caring' daughter back.

She just wants her TOOL back. The daughter who you could get money from, put all your subscriptions on, rest your entire future on and DEMANDED would take care of you for the rest of your life.

Granted, this isn't helping matters. Shortstuff doesn't want to go back to work. I understand. We talk to the management at work about it... nothing happens. As always.

I can't get ahold of my doctor in January to prolong my sick leave, so I go back 100%. Fall sick 10 days later, stress. Finally get ahold of my doctor again in February, and she sets me back to 25% sick leave, and sends me to a psychiatrist for a proper evaluation, since my therapist says she can't seem to help me with my stress.

I keep going on sick leave 25%, being free Wednesdays and... it kind of works? It kind of works. I don't get sick every two weeks, but I still go to bed every day immediately after work. I know I'm going to Japan in June for Tales of Festival but unless the house sells and we get money in, we won't afford it. It makes me sad, makes me want to sleep and never wake up. It feels like stuff will never end.

I make calls daily. To real estate people, to bank, to government about shortstuff's rejected sick leave, to government about MY sick leave, about insurances, cutting down on things to save money, selling stuff online to get money, doing commissions—

In March, my computer dies. Not a problem for 7 years, and one day I'm drawing, it lets out a high-pitched shriek, and dies. Motherboard fried. Everyone online is the same: no use repairing, better to buy a new one.

New one is $4000. I borrow the money from my mother, and cry as friends online send me a few $100 in helping pay her back.

I finally get my evaluation from the psychiatrist. Undiagnosed for 28 years, I have ADHD and Autism. It's likely why I've been unable to handle 'normal' stress and why I've burned out. It explains SO much stuff about myself I always thought was weird. She suggests we prolong my sick leave of 25% still, and I agree.

I tell my mom. She says she doesn't think I have anything, 'anyone can get a diagnosis if they try' and she scoffs at me saying the medicines will help me. It hurts. I don't tell my dad.

medicines help. I feel more at ease, I don't procrastinate as much, I feel like I can start and finish stuff. The first few days I keep looking over my shoulder, because for once, my head is silent even when I'm not 100% engulfed in something.

We keep trying to fix stuff at the house. House showcase is set to May 3rd and May 6th. We get the photographing done, clean up (while trying to avoid the people still living there who aren't even paying the bills anymore) and get it up on the web.

First showcase is a success. 3 people interested. One person calls the realtor and asks him what we want for it. I explain we want 10% above asking price to let it go. I hear nothing back. Friday we're heading up to Stockholm for a comic convention we agreed to months before and I managed to make nothing for since I've not had a productive day for months. On our way to the train, we get a call. The person interested is willing to buy it for 10% above asking price, if we sign immediately.

We're heading to Stockholm, though, and I explain that. Realtor mentions his WIFE is working at a place close to the station, faxes the contract there and we head there in a hurry to sign, then head up to Stockholm.

The sale goes through, moving in date is 11th of June, the day before we're to head to Japan.

We book time for cleaning, reiterate to the mother and brother that they have to move out by May 31st (as stated in the contract we wrote them in February). They're not happy. I don't care, I just want the house sold. We're burning through our savings fast and will have NOTHING for Japan unless this goes through.

Zelda, our sweet, darling cat, falls sick again. We decide it's time for her to go. 6 wonderful years with a kitty no one thought would survive the first night we found her. She fell asleep in my arms out in the sun on May 23rd.

When we arrive back at the apartment (that we're renting from Shortstuff's father, who's held a VERY passive role in this... thus far), we are met by her eldest brother (not same one as who's renting) and the father. They tell us we need to be out of the apartment by June 30th.

They KNEW we were heading to Japan on the 12th, they KNEW we wouldn't be back until the 27th. They KNEW we had stuff with the house all the way up to the 11th. THEY KNEW WE JUST PUT OUR CAT TO REST.

Worst of all, they complained we 'only' gave them 3 months to find a new place to live. They gave us 1, a month we wouldn't be able to look for a place for 3 weeks of the time.

We know now, later, that the Mother was given the apartment, the 'poor thing' because we had 'ruined her life'. Also, she has been spouting to everyone she owned a 3rd of the house and we've scammed her... y'know.

We lent her $7000 in October 2016 to help with Shortstuff's sister's care. We didn't get any money back from that. They didn't pay any bills the last months, putting us back about $5000, they sabotaged stuff in the house (breaking stuff, ripping electrical sockets from wall, cutting off TV cable, letting the pool pump be out in freezing temperatures so it broke) putting us back EVEN MORE in costs for the house... but we scammed her. Sure.

So suddenly we have two weeks before going to Japan, no time to mourn our lost family member, scrambling to find an apartment.

Luckily, my dad came to the rescue. A friend of his' daughter was going to rent an Apartment just half an hour's walking distance from my job, but her job offer fell through so she had just told them she couldn't take it. We got the number, called, asked if it was still up.

It was. It's more expensive than the other apartment, slightly smaller, but it's liveable. We're told we can move in July 4th. That makes us homeless for 5 days, but dad says we can stay with him if so.

I have a meeting with a nurse at the psychiatrists office in end May, talking about how the medicines are working. I remind her they promised to prolong my sick leave and my current slip ends May 31st, and she promises to fix one.

It doesn't happen, for some reason.

We DO get the house in order (even if they moved out 2 days late, ruined stuff, and left furniture, rotting food and everything in disarray so we had to pay EXTRA for the cleaning), we get the papers signed June 11th, we get our money, pay off our debts (Mom for computer, sister and her boyfriend for covering our lost revenue on bills)... and we go to Japan.

Japan and Tales of Festival gave me life again. I met people, I laughed, I had FUN, I didn't have to WORRY for ONCE. Tales of Vesperia got so much love and I was overwhelmed when they announced the party, I looked at Shortstuff and she just went 'go'.

I love Shortstuff, so much. Without her, I wouldn't have been here today. My psychiatrist agrees. She still wonders how I'm still alive.

Japan was fun, but coming back home hit me hard. We didn't have time to think, packing everything up, and moving. We manage to pressure the father to let us stay until July 4th, since they gave us so little notice AND they overstayed their welcome in the house.

We move into the new apartment July 4th, but the previous tenants had apparently been a hassle and moved out too late too, so the electricity hasn't been wired (they were replacing old wiring) so we only had electricity in the kitchen. It would take a few weeks, he said.

It took 3 weeks of us living in only the kitchen of our 2 rooms and kitchen apartment before we had electricity. During this time, Sweden was still mid up in its '100 days without rain' and 35+ degrees outside. The apartment was 28 degrees. It was torture.

First week of living there, I get word from the government. They're denying all my sick pay from December to May, because they don't see how I can work 75% but not 100%, and why I have to have a free day midweek ('How is your work capability 100% some days and 0% some days???') which means the money I thought was gonna come in, isn't. The sick leave extension I was going to get for June (and late July) also didn't happen, so I have no choice but going back to working 100% from July 2nd. I call my doctor's office about appealing and seeing about continuing sick leave, and they tell us they'll arrange a time.

...That went as well as we thought it would.

I planned a trip to Japan September 5th to 18th for the Tales of Vesperia Anniversary Party, and in the time from July 2nd to September 5th, I've been sick home from work 26 days. 26 days out of 47. My boss is wondering if everything is okay, I tell him it isn't. They know everything that's going on, and they nod and tell me to take it easy and just say if I need help with anything.

Shortstuff comes back to work since her school is on pause, and her mother is on Vacation. It works fine for a while, and when schools tarts again she goes down to 50%. School is set to end in October.

But her mother comes back, and she gets sick. VERY sick. She gets a sick leave of 75% (because she wanted to bring in some money) in beginning August, then meets her psychiatrist again in end August, who immediately sets her to full sick leave, and antidepressants, because she's considered suicidal.

Work wonders why, I reiterate that her mother makes her feel unsafe, and that Shortstuff has been feeling bad all year from seeing me have to struggle to bring in money while she does 'nothing'. That she's had zero income since October 2017, because the government sucks.

The government still hasn't approved her sick leave.

End August, I get terrible side effects from my medicines. I feel like I'm dying, my heart beats so fast I can't breathe, and I get clammy and nauseous. I get ahold of a doctor in beginning September and they ask why I haven't called earlier (I have) and they tell me they scheduled a time for September 19th. They also tell me to cut my medication. I extend my vacation to the 19th, because I know I won't have the energy for both work and doctor's appointment that day.

Second to last day before I go to Japan, I cry at work all afternoon. I barely make it through the day and go home, I cry hysterically all evening. i just want to give up, I don't want to fight anymore, I can't. Shortstuff feels horrible, and I feel all the more horrible about making her feel that way.

I go to Japan. I spent the first few days trying best I can to just get out of bed and do the things I wanted to. I spend more money than I should, because currently, the only joy I get is from buying things. That's the only time I feel excited or happy.

It's fun, though, but I can't sleep. I Skype with Shortstuff every night when it gets too late so I can fall asleep with her there. I can barely get out of bed, I barely eat. But I try having fun. Anxiety fucks me up several times per day and I cry hysterically every evening, but I try to have fun.

I feel like giving up.

The Anniversary Party was the best day of the year. Maybe my life. I had tickets to both shows, I got to see everything, and I had a few hours of NO worry, NO real life... just Love for my absolute favourite game. I've preordered 6 versions of the Definitive Edition.

My mom would tell me to not spend all the money we got from selling the house, but I DEFINITELY need 6 versions of the remaster of my favourite game. Bite me.

I come back home. I sleep. I go to the doctor.

I break down. She can't understand why it took so long for them to book me a meeting since I called in July, she can't understand why I got denied sick pay, especially since I was set to be 100% sick but decided to try fighting because I couldn't afford being sick.

She writes a long, long list of descriptions of my burnout, my ADHD, my Autism, why they make me unable to work, why we're appealing. She prescribes me new medication, she writes me another letter. I'm on 100% sick leave from that day. She asks me if I'll be okay money wise or if we should try 75% again, and I just hell her I don't have the energy to fight anymore. I've barely gotten by for a year because I couldn't afford full sick leave and that just made it worse and I STILL couldn't afford it so 100% might be just as well.

She looks honestly sad and upset when she writes the prescription, and tells me she'll send me a copy of the Note to the government once she's finished it. She mentions she's set the initial sick leave period until the 31st of December.

I tell my boss the next day, I tell my coworkers. No one is surprised. Everyone knows what's going on, everyone knows what has happened. No one can do anything about Shortstuff's Mom being at the workplace even though she's probably 70% of the reason why Shortstuff is on antidepressants (yours truly and her guilt about that being the remaining 30%) and about 50% of the reason why I am, because it's 'difficult' to fix a situation like that.

I understand, but I also don't. On Shortstuff's Note it says 'unclear' on the question if the doctor thinks she can ever come back to work. I am on sick leave until the end of the year. But her mother gets to keep her job, gets a free apartment, and complains how 'everything' is against her and how people never care about her.

I hate her.

I got my note today. I'm crying. I'm crying now, as I'm writing. My doctor is so angry, she's describing my issues, how much Ive struggled, how much I've TRIED to work despite needing to be full sick leave, how hard I've fought to need as little government support as possible, and she CAN'T understand how they could deny a patient with that much issues.

On my note, it says 'unclear' on if I can ever go back to work.

I... I'm 28 years old. And they think that this... all this... might have damaged me so much I can never work again.

But sure, Shortstuff's Mom is the victim.

She gets away scot free and more... but she's the victim. She's alienated Shortstuff from her entire family. None of her siblings talk to her. They threw their baby sister under the bus for an abusive and manipulative mother, even after telling her they'd be on her side.

And for what?

The ONLY thing we ever did, was saying we wanted to move to a place of our own.

If that's a crime worthy of ruining two young people's lives over, then wow.

Wow.

I'm just babbling now. This has been incoherent but...

I feel horrible about this too but... I have a donation thing on Paypal. For now we still have money left from the house sale. But we've signed for a new apartment end next year... and we hope that moving there, we'll be able to get our life together. Live again.

So... if anyone has the ability to or want to, please consider dropping something in there. I might open a Ko-fi too if anyone prefers that rather than PayPal.

I'll also make some sales posts later but... yeah.

I've babbled enough. Just... I wanted people to know why I've been... on and off, and what's going on and...

Just...

Yeah.

[revivedxfighter]

I don’t think you need to worry so much in actually changing your character. You should focus on replying to the threads you have started. You forget about them and seek activity when you don’t carry on with the things you have.

Send in some constructive criticism.

Hello Anon. Thank you for telling me your thoughts. I hope you’ll see this. I didn’t get to answer this sooner and I feel bad for that.

 I spent the day thinking about how to come clean. I know I’ve been behind on threads and starters. I’m very sorry about that. There’s a reason why behind it. School and work are only a part of it. I haven’t been completely honest because the main problem is even interfering my classes and projects at work.

 I didn’t want to say anything yet because I’m waiting for what the doctor will say. I did some tests a few weeks ago and waiting for what he will say before deciding what are my options for treatment.  I’m honestly afraid to say anything and I’ll say why under the cut. It’s kind of a long story, but important to understand what’s going on.  I’m sorry if I made you or anyone feel ignored. It’s not that I’m uninterested. Yeah, I’m busy, just not 24/7.

You have the right to know why I haven’t kept up on some things. That’s why I’m going to say it now.

I’ll start from the beginning. Ever since I was little, I knew I was a little different. I always got good grades at school, but I used to be hyperactive. I wouldn’t be able to sit still and had a knack of interrupting people. I tried not to, but I would get in trouble for not being still for very long. I always had trouble concentrating, but I always thought I wasn’t trying hard enough.  I always tried to compensate to concentrate. I used to be upset and antsy when I couldn’t stick to the task long enough. My parents thought I was fine. I thought I was too, just a typical bratty kid. 

Years went by and as I got older, it got harder to focus or stick to a task. I would get by with planners, lists, and organizing everything as a teen, but when I reached my twenties, not even that helped to stay on top of things. I forget memos, lists I made just an hour prior to needing it, and forget to check my planner or even know where it is. I lose things more often and I’m more forgetful. I get so discouraged over keeping lists and reminders because I would lose them. I try not to. I sometimes lose my keys and wallet without thinking. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry about that because it’s not normal to forget them in a short time, and happening so frequently.

Life feels like it’s going a million miles a minute. I always had thoughts clashing and becoming an entangled mess. When I roleplayed on Tumblr, I kept a list of threads and checked it frequently. After two years of that, I forgot I even have these lists and don’t remember where to find them or what I need to reply or delete. 

I struggled when I was in school to be a med lab tech. I got so anxious and second guess myself, forgetting to do things, I was barred from getting an internship which was required for a degree. That was 6 years ago. I’m so hard at myself because everyone else was doing so well. I didn’t understand why I was having trouble. People would do diagnostic tests after watching it once, but I needed to see it demonstrated more than once and I couldn’t run more than two tests within a few minutes. I never understood why I struggled and wondered if there was something wrong with me. Like if I was incompetent or mentally incapable to do simple tests. I can’t tell you how many times I cried. I thought I was a failure. A miserable failure.  

I kept pushing harder in my new school, that between frequent moving was hard, but I managed. I didn’t have a stable home for several years. I didn’t admit that until many years later because I have too much pride to ask for help with money. There were days when I worked twelve-hour shifts to help feed my family and have just enough gas to go to school that was over an hour away from the reservation I used to live on.  I struggled with working, trying to concentrate to give correct change and price checks, forgetting what product is in which aisle. It was awful. I liked the little store I worked in, but it wasn’t the best. I had customers be upset with me for messing up. I did great in my last few years as an undergrad, but then I started to struggle again. Since the spring, reading papers, writing assignments, and completing projects feel like pulling teeth. Nothing  I did that help before worked.  I struggled a few months ago in Belize. My anxiety was at its worst and I would forget constantly or be focused on something that people in my team would run into me. 

I visited my primary doctor after the trip. She took over when my last doctor wasn’t sure why I wasn’t responding to every treatment for my depression and anxiety. For the first time, I was honest. I told my doctor about how my thoughts are, the intrusive thoughts, inability to concentrate. She suspects that I have ADD. 

I didn’t think that was a big deal at first. My brother was diagnosed with it as a kid. My dad was never diagnosed but is suspected to have it because he can’t sit still all the time either and has trouble paying attention. My parents didn’t think I have it. It was seen more common in children, particularly boys. Of course, I don’t think ADD even had a name or was as well known in the 90′s. At least, my parents never heard of it until my brother was diagnosed. When I told my parents this, they apologized. My mother even admitted that she felt she messed up for not catching it and get help when I was a kid. They understand it more now and she’s sure one of my sisters has it too because of the similar symptoms. I feel it’s my fault for not insisting that I have ADD. I probably would have got treatment years ago and not lose so many people or messed up so bad in school work and professions. I always wonder if I pushed for it, would things be different?

My doctor thinks my anxiety is feeding off my ADD, making it worse.  I take Ritalin for it and it worked for a couple of weeks. Now it doesn’t help much unless I take higher doses, but I end up with terrible headaches. 

I went to my school’s counseling center where I met a doctor who ran screenings on disorders like ADD. I’m waiting on him to contact me to see if there’s confirmation. I’ll have more treatment options if it’s confirmed. Right now, they can’t do much for me. At least, that’s what I was told. All I can do is wait and try harder. I still think I’m just being lazy or not trying enough, but I think ADD was the missing piece. The piece of why I seem a little different and why I struggle so much.  I just compensated for it growing up but it became harder and more severe over years of being undiagnosed. 

I told some of my friends about this, but I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to say anything here. Millions of people have ADD and ADHD. I should get along just fine like that. I don’t know why I feel like I have to fight tooth and nail just to get anything done. I kind of see that as laziness, really. ADD and ADHD happens to girls too, but I feel weird that I was undetected until my mid-twenties. 

I’m not admitting this to make anyone feel sorry for me. I don’t want to be treated differently. I don’t want to be seen as someone saying shit to get attention, trying to have an excuse to be on the pedestal or get away from responsibilities. Things like that. I wasn’t sure if I should admit it even if it was confirmed. If it wasn’t, I would feel like I lied to the community and that there’s something truly wrong with me. Like I’m someone who just can’t be helped. I don’t want to live in despair like that. I’m trying so damn hard to hold on to the hope that things will get better and I’ll actually be on top of everything. 

 It affects writing, which is what I love. I would posts updates as reminders but forget. I forget starters and threads and I hate it so much. I believe I let everyone down and that’s not fair for you. I can’t even manage something like ADD on my own. I don’t have anywhere else to go except student health because I don’t have insurance and I’m not wealthy. This isn’t to shut down all my options. I sought help. All that’s left is waiting and hoping that even if I don’t get the confirmation, I’ll still get help. I’m afraid I’ll be turned away if the counseling center’s doctor rejects the diagnosis. The therapist who did my intake doubts I have it because I’m working on my master’s degree. I’m not sure what to think of that. I didn’t think that was a fair statement. Just because someone does great in school doesn’t mean they didn’t struggle.

I love being here. Roleplay was the only stable thing I had when I lost almost everything years ago. I didn’t know where I would sleep or if I worked enough hours to get dinner. I didn’t have rl friends because I moved so frequently. I didn’t think I had much of a future, but I felt wanted in this community. I was wanted, liked, and became successful here. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to be a disappointment. I don’t want to fail you. 

My hope is that my confession won’t turn people away. I hope it wouldn’t make people think I’m an attention seeker lying out of her ass. I don’t want my activity to keep dropping and have fewer people interested in writing with me or like my muse. I’m sorry for being absent and not keeping up. I want to write with you. I want to rp with you, and most of all, I want to be your friend.  

I hope this doesn’t change anything. I didn’t want to admit it, but I think I have to. You have the right to know why I haven’t been answering things. I’m busy, but that’s not the main problem, and I’m ashamed of it. I’m ashamed of falling behind and not doing enough to work harder. I would forget what I need to do, forget the reminders, and when I try to work on something, my brain goes into overdrive, and these intrusive thoughts and worries get overwhelming. Sometimes I dread looking at my dash because I see so much activity and I want to be a part of it so bad that I just reblog memes nonstop. Yet I feel I have to keep an eye on my dashboard just in case I got a new DM or updates, 

I would think that people don’t like me and if I don’t reblog memes to show I’m active and open for interactions, then people wouldn’t have interest in my muse and leave me behind. My brain is weird.  These thoughts would just pop up and they wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how hard I try to ignore them to the point of nearly having a panic attack. They come and go or pop up at random and repeat like a broken record. Like I said, I reached out for help and I’m waiting for an answer.  I’m very sorry for letting you guys down. 

[tempestshakes01]

09/04/21

Okay, I’m going to write a very shameful recap of my lack attention to my health. 

This is about my mouth. In July ‘19 (right before I was moving back to Texas), I got a bunch of illness in one fell swoop after a giant migraine hit me (and I don’t usually get migraines). I started to have a cough, I lost my voice, and I got hives for the first time in my life. I was utterly confused because again...I got HIVES for the FIRST time. Even then, I connected it to the migraine because that had sprung from a random toothache. I never get toothaches so it was a new thing to me, and it only lasted a day. I wrote it off. Until the rest of my sickness started and I was waking up covered in scratchy, miserable hive. My body regularly responds to illness with speed and intensity. I get sick, but it lasts a day. I eat something my body doesn’t like, I vomit in the evening. I just thought maybe my weird symptoms to my body fighting my toothache. I thought it was weird and painful enough to try to get a dental appointment. 

Problem was that by that point, I was moving in a week. I needed to find a dentist (I had just lost healthcare with my dad) and get insurance through the about-to-end-job. I spent a good afternoon panic-y and scouring the internet and I managed to scrape in an emergency appt with a local dentist. Hurrah!

Right?

No. 

The day came and I didn’t go because by that time: 1) the tooth didn’t hurt, 2) the symptoms were almost gone, and 3) I didn’t want to go in and have a lot of work that wouldn’t be done before I had to move and then I wouldn’t have insurance and I’d have to pay in TX. Also, undiagnosed ADHD. 

So anyway, cut to November. That’s when I first notice my gums. The left side, the molar behind my canine, that tooth’s gum is sort of graying. I forget about it because it fades back to pink. 

January. There’s a blatant change to my gums. There is a ring of gray at the point closest to the exposed tooth. My hate smiling because it’s fairly noticeable. There’s no pain. I don’t have dental insurance. I think, “I need a job to get insurance.” My parents give me a coupon to a dentist. I buy insurance off the market. 

March. The pandemic begins and I haven’t seen a dentist. There are the first signs of gum recession. 

By June, it makes me sad to see pictures of my old gum line because I think the recession is so bad. I get panic-y until about June ‘21, a whole year later, because I think I’m going to loose my teeth. 

Also that month, I get a toothache but the pain fades. 

It’s like Sep ‘20 that I get the color of my gums returned. The gums still recess but at a WAY slower rate. 

Cut to today: I am in a lot of pain. It’s the same fucking tooth, that if I just had handled it in Aug ‘19, I wouldn’t be here . If I gone to the dentist at allllll during my stilnt at CP$. I can’t hold it off anymore. I can fucking die from this tooth, like, fuck my body got HIVES when it first had this cavity/infection, like, my body warned me and yet...I haven’t taken care of it. 

So I got COVID and I guess that was this tooth’s sign that it should get infected or dying or whatever the fuck it’s doing to go ahead and start again. fuck. 

--

EDIT: 09/05/21:

I can’t tell you how mad I am about my lack of movement regarding my gums. Like, I KNOW I should have seen the dentist way back ‘19 when this all first began and maybe I’d be working with more gums for the rest of my life. I should have seen the dentist during CP$ because that insurance was fantastic and I was making way more money and could afford to fill how ever many cavities (so many) I have AND do gum work if needed (by this time the gums were normal...reseeding slightly but normal in coloration). Now, I still have lovely straight teeth, but the gum line is frighteningly high on some teeth and definitely higher all around. I literally thought I was going to lose my teeth; I was crying and frustrated because I had mutherfucking SURGERY on my mouth to make it ~nice~ and here I was ruining my parent’s massive investment and my own massive (pain) investment. It took a really long perusal of reddit posts about people’s gum recession and a deep look into the pictures I’ve been taking the past two years of my teeth to pump the brakes on the doomsday-ness and understand that, no, I’m not at the point where I’ll lose my teeth or need a gum graft. HOWEVER, I will need it. For sure. I let my gums get eaten away and now I’m going to have to deal with those repercussions in the future. My bottom teeth now have “black triangles” where the gums were lost between the teeth. I have a back tooth that I barely noticed yesterday is exposed up to that point where the color changes. I am so sad and angry and upset and tired. It’s my fault! Thing happen with teeth but there’s options to help! And I didn’t take those options. 

I hate this about myself. I truly, truly do. I only find comfort in ADHD spaces where other people do this same shit and feel the same way. We don’t do it on purpose and IF ONLY it were a matter of being lazy, but...I just think back to the appt I didn’t go to in ‘19. Like, wtf. WTF. I...can’t believe myself sometimes and I really need to separate my body from my brain sometimes and think, “if I were assisting someone with this problem, what would I suggest? How would I help them out?” Because I’m good at helping others but when it’s me...I just lose track of reality. 

[anyu-blue]

*collapses onto bed*

My chest is killing me today... Been hard to breathe for a few days now. I don't think it's anything particularly serious (no crackling noises, so probably just anxiety or whatever is wrong with my heart- obvs not a big deal cuz those test results are still not in my chart)... But I also just feel so drained after work... Struggled through every day this week and have today and tomorrow of not easy as well... Though hopefully more pleasant...

I'm so tired of... Everything in the world. I just want to crawl into my shell and hide away for a while.. but I can't do that. Adulting and responsibilities for one, and obligations to be a good friend and family member for two... Though less now because I no longer have at least one other friend... Which means I don't have any of his friends either by all reports... Woo...

...

I don't want to kick People out of my work anymore... And it appears the owner of the place doesn't want me even asking people to wear masks despite our county AND branch mandate... So the 'solution' is for me to leave people alone. I'm supposed to just let people get away with anything and everything and serve them and more... And I just.. yeah probably anxiety. Makes my chest hurt to think about. Not only ILLEGAL to ask me to do... But so wrong...

Of course I can... But I just.. CAN'T, you know? Sure it's technically possible... But it's one of those invisible barrier things. Morally it's SO wrong I just... Can't bring myself to... To do it.

Sure it's mostly for me because I'm FREAKED OUT I'm going to get Covid (or something else) and be unable to work.. But also I've got 13 People I'm in direct contact with to worry about... Let alone who THEY are in contact with!!! 💔 And that doesn't include my coworkers... The other guests... Or even the other workers who enter our establishment. My heart seizes every time I think about it. Like NO!!! We should NOT be letting people COMING FROM OUT OF STATE AND INFECTED COUNTIES get away with not wearing masks!!! Because if they don't HERE, who's to say they're aren't wearing them elsewhere?! In fact it's HIGHLY LIKELY they're NOT 😭😭😭

... oof... Ouch ouch ouch...

*sigh*

I need this job. Badly. Do I want it? *Laughs quietly* .. I want to help my friends and co-workers, sure... But if I could be doing a remote job instead.. or even one that doesn't face People... Oh how I wish I could have that instead... Or, you know... Be able to sit at home doing what I want while collecting unemployment? YES PLEASE... But nah... Only my ex has the privilege of doing that. Not even his parents get to do that... But judging by his mail still being sent here... He's on it again. And he was on it for so long with those bonuses (and not going out and spending every week due to my worry) that he was able to afford a brand new Lexus...

I should probably not let myself think of that... But I'm so hurt that shitbags get to sit on their asses and be rewarded while those of us who are doing our best and mean every kindness get shit on and walk away with wounds and fear and STILL barely enough to scrape by.... It's no wonder I'm insane and drive everything good out of my life... I want to break out of the poverty cycle... And yet... Idk how. To scared to go back and finish school... I'm almost out of debt for going one year... And it's been 8 since I took that year. 8 years to pay off ONE year of schooling.. and people in the fields I want to pursue aren't doing any better unless they're PERFECT at their job... Which I'm not perfect. 😅 ... I try to apply for better positions to finally kickstart a career, but I'm not the young person with potential anymore so I get passed up for younger people or (more understandably) People with more experience in the area they're looking OR (worst of all) for more well liked friends and family members of the hiring managers... I can't even get work at places my family is anymore because I'm just... Me and problematic... I can't work as hard as I used to (and even when I did work that hard, again, I'm nuts so I've used all my chances and scared them all away).... It's disheartening. It makes the insanity worse because I'm scared all the time and get more hopeless with each 'we've gone another direction'...

It's the same story.. again and again and again with me.... And idk what to do...

I'm in therapy... I'm TRYING very hard... I'm doing good every place I can... But it just doesn't feel like enough.

I'm trying so hard not to feel depressed and so low too... To not throw myself pity parties and just do better!! Do better!! Do better!! .... Wait it out!! It'll get better!!!

Well... It never has... It's only gotten worse... The best I had was that Phlebotomy gig... And that was a whole bag of bad in itself... The only good thing about it at all, really, was that I enjoyed my hours and the work. That's it. Even that wasn't enough to make me stay with it when I stopped being treated as a person but just a money maker when the company got bought out... When they moved my hours and started demanding more for the same pay...

I imagine it's only going to get worse because I can't get a shoe in anywhere.... All the good jobs are already taken or have someone lined up for them... And I just... It's so hard not to be depressed by that. Especially being stuck on Night audit when the rest of the world is day shift... Having to fuck up my sleep and more just to get groceries even... (I totally understand pandemic stuff, but it's supposed to turn permanent so... All night shifters get shafted anyway)... It's not healthy...

But I don't have a choice. Even when I try to... I don't have a choice... And annoyingly of course I have that stupid shitbag's voice going through my head of 'oh they won't hire you for this reason' or 'oh that's a shit job, don't apply for that' or.. or... Ugh... I need to let all that go on top of all of this... But damn it all... Once the dam breaks, EVERYTHING floods out... Everything I've kept at bay...

There's nothing anyone can do for me unless I do stuff myself... More than I am doing... And it hurts too because I'm pushing myself as hard as I can... But it's not as hard as others can and I'm so far behind... I can't... I can't fix it fast enough... Doesn't matter how much I focus on it!!

I ask how I can help or how I can get into Peoples good graces again or if I can ask a favor and all they tell me is 'focus on yourself'... Not realizing (even though I've told them) I need your HELP!! I need other ideas!!! better work!! I need your good word even and my mental state will Drastically improve!!! Please!!! But I'm just nuts... And need to be less nuts... on my own... And it's just.. THIS IS HOW PEOPLE GO NUTS... Being alone all the time. Being the responsible party all the time.. never getting breaks... Like I said... I know I've used all my breaks up... So I shouldn't even be asking or complaining.. I know...

If I want people to reach out to me.. nope. sorry, not going to happen. It's up to me to reach out to them.

If I ask people to do me a favor like looking into a job... Nope, sorry already taken, or (more commonly) just apply and see what happens!! I can't help you (though they help others and even OFFER the position to other friends/family--- namely my step mom offering a position to my little sister that she doesn't want, that I've expressed real interest in AND have mentioned I'm looking for work in... aND I have experience in!! Nope.. completely.. completely ignored AND despite the fact that she has sway... My application will probably be tossed anyway... And I'm Just... I feel destroyed by this)

I should probably just stop here. I'm.. I'm so upset and yet I know.. I KNOW this is all my fault... I've.. made mistakes.. and gone without help I need for so long.. and pushed people away (mostly unintentionally, but obvs that doesn't matter)... And now I'm in this spot where I can ONLY help myself.. and it's so obvious to everyone else, though I feel I could use help people are capable of providing...

I just want to die...

But I don't even want to do that because I actually want so much more for my life and those around me... But not being here would be so much easier and less painful... I'm just a stupid placeholder to make other people feel better. Which, as important as that is, REALLY SUCKS for the person stuck with the job.

I tried so hard for so long.. and I THINK I did good to lift others up, to support them and help them get themselves out of the holes they've dug- those mostly older than myself even.... But to get to the point where that's where I'm at... And simply to have a shovel dropped on my head because I'm 'old enough' to do everything on my own... Despite being told I needn't do it on my own and should ask for help whenever I need it, only to be denied and hurt and have more dirt pulled out from under me instead... (It's very confusing and not at all helping the insane issue I have going on)... It hurts so God damned bad.... And it makes me think that maybe... Maybe I'm NOT wrong about being nuts... That maybe all that 'help' I gave to people wasn't actually me or my help at all... Just People humoring me and pretending.

Idk..

I sound like that awful ex friend of mine...

But honestly... Idk what to do anymore...

My hope... My hope is just about all gone....

And when it is... What do I do? Where do I go?

I'm more like my disgusting mother every day (except the drugs and alcohol abuse)... And I just can't find a way out that isn't wildly hard for me.

I swear I'm suffering undiagnosed Something (asperger's, ADHD, ect?)... Maybe it's just me being a hypochondriac... And lazy... And wishful.. to blame all my problems on an unseen force beyond my control... And that's why everyone tells me to just pick myself up... Because I'm actually normal and just crying for unneeded attention...

[cyanidekissesxoxo]

Personal connection to HFA paper... Call it the beginning of self-exploration?

I’m writing a personal connection paper to a study on High-Functioning Autism/Aspergers (which is a term I learned recently I guess is not as favored any more, but it’s been used - was the term I grew up with as far as other family members - and has identifiable traits that people not highly versed can identify with, so get over it.) I'd say do it.

My family is prone to HFA and ASD.. It has been suggested by family members over the years that I'm Asperger/HFA, but my dad & grandmother never pushed to test (my Dad is also most likely undiagnosed Aspergers/HFA), and I felt growing up that my aunt's coddlement of my cousin and his disabilities allowed him to use his disabilities as a sort of crutch through life, where he may have worked with them a little better otherwise, so I took the route of solidly denying any disability chance, and just told myself it was just personal shortcoming -- I needed to make extra effort to be organized, to be on task, etc.

In a way, I don't regret the path I took - I own and run a dog rescue at 26 that I did all the legal paperwork and filing on, I work 28 hours a week as a trainer, and people constantly compliment me on how motivated and put together I am... however, there's also major issues in my life that I'm working through and have led me to explore the ASDs a little more personally at this point:

- I have a horrible sense of organization. I gravitate towards the neatness of everything in places, boxes, etc.. but maintaining organization is horrible... in about a week, my car/room will go from spotless to like a homeless hurricane hit... I'm getting better about setting myself on a strict path of putting things back in their exact place as soon as I use them, and I do find myself thinking about it more, but still, I battle with chaos and disorder... paperwork seems to jumble itself, etc... Then I become stressed and non-functioning (or functioning out of necessity but not necessarily doing well), and this cycle repeats and repeats. As a child, I was a tornado too, but because there was no attempt to diagnose an illness (by 8th grade I was in IEP for being Emotionally Disturbed - a result of bringing part of my beloved knife collection to school which a friend used to cut herself after "borrowing" one, and I believe ADHD at that time as well, which I'll get into more late), so my messiness was seen as defiance, and punished.

- ADHD or HFA? & Substance abuse issues: In about 10th grade, I was put on Vyvanse for ADHD. I'd already been convinced to try meth by girls in the neighborhood I'd known since I was little, and it got out of control because the main benefit I saw was I WAS FINALLY GETTING THAT MATH HOMEWORK I WAS BEHIND ON DONE!!... well, Vyvanse made me get schoolwork done too, but in a jittery, hyper-focused way that reminded me too much of methamphetamine, so I used it on and off for school for maybe a school year, but it did not answer my problems long term, and was not enjoyable. If HFA is a contributer for these issues, it is possible that being diagnosed properly and treated in a different way would not have more beneficial effect than Vyvanse, and it's also possible that with proper support and help, I may not have chose/continued to use meth to try to catch up on math, because I could have had plans in place in school, and better management at home, to not get as behind as I did in the first place.

- (Un)Comfortable Conversation/Specialized Interests: Between the fallout from separating from a group of drug related people from above, conflict with my family from childhood on (my grandmother thought I was insolent and "taunting" her when I would SHRIEK in fear as a child of punishment, among other conflicts), and never really fitting in at school from a young age, and losing friends rapidly and telling my grandmother at home, who would wonder out loud, "How do you go through friends so fast? Are you doing something? Picking wrong friends?"... so from 3rd grade on, the self-belief that I was difficult to make friends with, I was different, and that my friendships weren't that strong because I couldn't relate to them in similar ways began to grow & got stronger over the years, and now as an adult, I go into almost panic attacks about new social situations sometimes, and it takes me a LONG time to trust, get close to new people, and they often consider me a friend before I've reached that comfort zone... not because I'm antisocial -- I can remember one of my earliest childhood grievances being: "I just want to be everyone's friend! I want everyone to like me!!!", but because I'm terrified, awkward, feel like a burden or sore thumb sometimes, and feel that I either talk waaaaay too much, or I can't make small talk like normal people do (what do you say? "Hey, so, beautiful weather we're having today!" sounds staged. Even if it didn't, what do I say after that? How do I keep the conversation going??!)...

Social Impact: If I had been diagnosed with HFA as a child by a medical professional (assuming I am), I could have possibly had action plans, exercises in developing social skills, being interested in a wider set of topics people want to talk about, not being SO excited to predict what someone's going to say and finishing their sentence, or slowly down with my eagerness to reply once I get talking. I could have grown up with less of the belief that it was something I was doing, that I pushed people away after a while or that I wasn't as good as their other friends --- in actuality, I had a lot of problem behavior as a child as you can see, and I gravitated to problem people throughout my life (in grade school, I have no answer for, other than moving from very diverse Anaheim to Temecula which was still pretty small, I was a culture shock in addition to all my oddities... but in the end of middle school up through high school, I hung out with kids who drank, smoked, and honestly burned through other people too, so this is a partial answer... but again, what behavioral and environmental aspects may have caused me to gravitate towards that type?..)

Adult impact: My biggest problem has come later in life. Throughout high school, I hung out with bad kids, like I said... I did great meeting new people, because I had a very comfortable approach of "Hi, I'm Mariah, let's get drunk and make bad decisions", and substance abuse was my crutch that allowed me to socialize, plus conversation is pretty easy and unjudged when everyone is drunk. However, turning 19 and getting away from those kind of people steadily til 23 left me realizing: I don't drink anymore.. NOW how do I talk to people?! This point was where I retreated a lot into the solace of my dogs, as I've done throughout my childhood, and the training/dog rescue/veterinary school aspiration began to take place. I am now 26 with all of this great stuff going on, but A) dogs are now my comfort zone. I'll talk your ear off about that with no social anxiety. If we're not talking about dogs, I'm still probably really uncomfortable and unable to casually maintain conversation as well. B) Dog rescue & training has become my therapy from my social awkwardnesses, and I push myself HARD to achieve for a continuous sense of self-satisfaction (which is generally pretty short-lived on my end: off to the next mountain to climb! And the next!)... I am now stressed, irritable, and experience panic attacks probably once a week. But also, because there is not much of a social group (I have accumulated a small but very important, intellectual, successful group, many who are working through very similar issues with themselves aside from organization), I have more time to overwork myself, when other people are out going to movies, doing random things, etc... So if I had more focus on developing and maintaining social confidence, that is possibly less grief I could have gone through.

For my family, and if I get the diagnosis when I see a medical provider, HFA is not a horrible diagnosis (I know I'm talking about all the negatives above) -- my family is phenomenally more intellectual than anyone I know, the creativity abounds in individual ways, and the original ideas and approaches to things that I have amaze people -- I've always just thought of things in different terms and solutions than other people, and was surprised when they commented on it --- "Why WOULDN'T you think of that?!"...

I think my fear of the stigma and label was the worst thing. "What if people don't like me? What if they think I'm crazy or stupid?"... well. A lot of people DIDN'T like me anyway, some without ever meeting me... that's not going to change, and it happens to typically developed people as well. I feel that instead, people disliked me anyway, but I ended up internalizing that and then being uncomfortable with myself, or not liking myself. Some people still think I'm stupid with or without a label, but talking to me, reading my writing, or looking at my test scores would disprove that in a second... And to keep a clean, put-together appearance over the years so people wouldn't think I was crazy... well, that turned into me instead wondering if I was crazy.

It's totally possible that I don't have any ASD, and that my issues are personal or from other places (childhood abuse, etc), I haven't been diagnosed or not officially yet - this group is the beginning of my exploration and path to being tested... but even if I'm not, if I had been tested, I wouldn't be here wondering.

I think finding out is your best option. No, your child doesn't? Well, then on with life as usual! But if they do, I genuinely feel the diagnosis and proper management, counseling, and building as an adult will help your child love themselves more, enjoy more out of life, and prepare better to be an adult.

Good luck!

[starless-night-fright]

I need to vent here for a moment. I can’t find my journal I normally would be venting into, and dear lord I just need to put everything I’m feeling down because I’m not okay, right now.

She’s a long post, about everything I’ve been struggling with since the beginning of the year. It’s heavy, I don’t hold back.

I went into 2020 thinking, yes, this is it, I’m finally gonna have a good year. The last time I was constantly happy, and having a good time, I was 17. But, I started this year student teaching, I was going to walk in May and be the first in my family to get my diploma, I had everything planned.

What a fucking joke that was. 

Student teaching was a mixed bag. It got cut short, and I ended up losing on valuable experience that I need. I struggle with enforcing consist discipline. Students don’t take me seriously. That was the biggest goal I was working on, right before everything shut down. We never went online, and I won’t see my students that I had again.

I’m not gonna lie, I had days that were really, really bad. Days where “It wouldn’t matter if you just drove your car into a semi and ended it” were thoughts that came up on my 30 minute drive home. I’d go and have days where it felt like I wouldn’t succeed in the field, and then come home and felt...I don’t know. I think I felt like people close to me didn’t care? That if I really did choose to just...crash my car spontaneously, that it wouldn’t matter in the long run to them? That they had someone they could replace me with, if that makes sense. Because if I reached out in my very indirect way of saying “I need help, and I need attention” I’d get brushed off, with an explanation of some kind. It’s okay, I’d think, everyone has priorities more important than me. And then I’d go to bed, get up, start the cycle again. Until I didn’t. 

I got my Bachelor’s Degree, though I slept most of the day I would have walked. I got my teaching license, but somehow, I feel under qualified for it. Like, I don’t deserve this. Even my degree. I skated by in college, writing every paper the night before, and reading bits and pieces of every book - even content I was interested in. I never proofread a single paper, never edited one. Not even my capstone paper. I passed, though I don’t know what I got for my grade. It feels fake to me.

So, I graduated. I got a degree in a field that arguably has a demand for people, so why can’t I get a job? Why is it that I haven’t been able to land a single fucking interview? It isn’t because I just graduated, and it isn’t because I only had my actual legit license in my hands for only about a month at this point - I know plenty of people with the same training and the same everything I had getting jobs in late May and early June, so what is so wrong with my applications that I can’t get past the screening phase? 

Maybe they know that I’m under qualified. Oh, she doesn’t have any of her host teachers? Her mentor teacher from student teaching? She has no other experience in education aside from 4 semesters in a classroom, and she has no experience with kids either. 

I’ve been jobless since March, and have had no income since May. It’s my fault, I suppose, because I kept putting off finding a new job. My best friend’s mom would say that I’m making excuses, but it’s hard to find a job when I’m sitting there like “Oh, yeah, by the way, I have no idea if I’m going back to student teaching in person, or teaching online, and if I have to do that - and it’ll be very sudden - I won’t be able to work between 7am-3:20pm if we go online, and 6am-4:30pm if we go in person, and I won’t be able to work past 10, because my health is important.” I don’t know. I’m getting sick of explaining why I don’t do things and people saying “You’re making excuses.” I really, really fucking hate it when people say that. 

I applied for unemployment, after getting people bugging me for a while about it, but it didn’t make a difference. They basically looked at what I submitted, and said “There’s no income here” and I sent in something saying, no, I had income, here’s my W-2, and that was a month ago, and still nothing back. When people were first pushing me to apply, I was going back and forth from saying that “I don’t know how to report my income because my hours were very inconsistent” to “I don’t currently need these benefits, because I still have money from income taxes and the stimulus check”. Which was true.

So I went back to donating plasma. My last donation was Friday, and something went wrong with it. The needle wasn’t in correctly, so they decided to give my blood back after one pull (if you haven’t done it before, it’ll go through about 4-5 cycles if you’re in the highest weight category, which I am). They slowly returned my blood back to me, but it started to sting when the saline started to go in. I don’t know if it was the blood or the saline, but something went into the tissue, not the vein. So, I’ve had a nice bruise on the inside of my arm that prevents me from going and getting more money. I haven’t touched my donation money, since it’ll be rent in a worst case scenario where I don’t have a job by September 1st. I want a teaching job, or a subbing position in the district I’m in, but if the subbing position also gets overlooked, I don’t know what I’m going to do, emotionally. 

It’s been almost a week since my last donation, and maybe I’ll be able to go in a day or two? The bruise is fading, but I don’t know. 

I’m lonely, I’m stressed, I’m anxious. I want to hang out with people, but I look at the list of people I know and I’m like...who even cares, right now? I’m getting frustrated with people getting annoyed at the fact that nothing is going okay right now, and me expressing those feelings is annoying, and I’m getting frustrated with people just saying “oof” when I express that something isn’t okay. It isn’t even down to who cares, either, it’s also looking at who has the energy to deal with me? 

The last week has been pretty shitty, in all honesty. At first, it was the stress of everything leading up to plasma donation going wrong. Then it turned into “People only care about people that they deem as useful, and it seems like my usefulness has run out.” Because it has. I’m just burdensome to people at this point. 

So, then I sit there. I want to talk to people, I want to just sit and watch stuff and drink with friends. But I don’t want people saying all the things i enjoy are stupid, and I don’t want to be brushed off. I don’t even want advice for everything because what advice can people even offer me right now? I want human company. But people have lives that don’t involve me - which is okay - and those lives and relationships take precedence over me. Which is okay. To most people - if not every person I’m associated with - I’m a second thought, at best. Everyone has someone else that they care about more, or some other issue that they have more thought processes to deal with. I’m not mad, or upset by it. I don’t expect people to put their lives and their problems on hold to help me get stabilized. Because, in all honesty? Right now, when nothing is okay right now? I don’t think I could emotionally sustain anyone either.

So, I don’t want to be burdensome. So, I sit alone, and try to drown out everything by watching dumb videos on YouTube or starting to hyperfocus on something. It sometimes works. Other times, I just sit there and feel the need to just break something, to let out the tension, and I have a relapse. I’ve had two, this week. It doesn’t matter what it is, in all honesty. I’ve done dishes, while in this state, and I broke a glass. It just...it felt like the glass was the heaviest thing I could hold, and I just didn’t have the energy to keep holding it anymore, and I dropped it. I still haven’t found all the pieces to the cup. Though, it doesn’t matter, does it?

I did start therapy, recently. My first appointment was a week ago, and I won’t have another one for two weeks. In this appointment, I discussed with the therapist about how I thought I had undiagnosed ADHD, anxiety, and depression. I had filled out a questionnaire a few weeks prior, and he had my answers from then about those three things, among a few other things. I explained that at times when I feel like I’m dealing with anxiety attacks I struggle to breath - I have to pause, take a deep breath with my diaphragm and fully expand my lungs, cause it feels like my breath is too shallow in varying circumstances, but it’s been worse recently.  

He asked about study habits. How is reading? I have a hard time sitting down, and focusing to read, but when I find something I’m engaged it, I don’t put it down. Is that webcomic 90-144 chapters? I. Won’t. Stop. I can’t. So, he asks about deadlines. How close to a deadline do i complete tasks? Literally, the last minute. Does that pressure help you work? If I don’t have a deadline, I don’t finish anything. Fun fact! I’m moving in a week, and I made a list of everything my roommate and I need to do. I did this a month ago, and this was supposed to be done before we went on a roadtrip in the beginning of July. Nothing has been checked off. He asked how I do progression. If I work on a paper, I’ll clean my workspace, then I’ll go get snacks to munch on for the 5-10 hours I’ll be at my computer. Sometimes, cleaning my workspace causes my to clean my room. After all this he said “I think there is some ADHD at play here.” And he explained that, typically in women, ADHD is undiagnosed, because it’s the high energy that people look at, not necessarily the inattentiveness. Young boys are diagnosed more often because they have that high energy people look for - and they get misdiagnosed, sometimes. So, that tells me that, for 23 years of my life, and for 17 years of education, I had ADHD. Which makes a difference.

Because, then, I start thinking about the past - this has been a thing for the last few days, in particular. And I start to get...frustrated? Angry? Because, I’m sitting there thinking that the signs were there. When I was in the 5th grade, I just stopped doing my homework. Or rather, I never did it to begin with. It was a whole thing that I don’t want to get into right now, but my teacher did get my parents involved. And then, again, in high school. I had the same English teacher for 3 years, and she allowed me to go into the AP Lit and Lang courses. This was the point that I really struggled with reading. I loved reading up until that point. It was my escape. And she had me the year before, she knew I was an avid reader at that point. But when I started slipping and when it was obvious I wasn’t reading, she never really said anything. I don’t think she contacted my parents, and it never came up in parent teacher conferences - I went to all of them because I liked being praised by my teachers, and they always did. I don’t really blame a lot of my other teachers, though. I’m weird in the sense that lectures and direct instruction is a really good method for me to learn. I sit there, copy the notes, and hoard said notebooks until I need the information. I haven’t take Algebra since I was 17, but dammit, I still have my notes from College Algebra that I took in high school.

It’s that stigma that only boys have ADHD. I know it is, and it’s not like I was in a district that was socially advanced, if that makes sense. We didn’t even have sex ed. I’m not in the south, either, I’m in Colorado. But, like, I’m kinda bitter? I’m pretty average, as a student, even with the ADHD. I was ranked dead middle in my high school graduating class with a 3.4 GPA. I might have gotten it up to a 3.5, but I don’t remember. And then College happened. All the support fell away, I was independent. I ended my first semester with a 1.1 GPA. It fucking hurt. I came home for Christmas and everyone was telling me to change my major - because obviously if I ended my first semester that badly, it meant I wasn’t interested in it. It didn’t matter that I only had two classes in my major, and one really dealing with what I wanted to study. I got my shit together, and bumped my GPA back up to a 2.1 the next semester. 

But, then, it just kinda...I don’t know. Like I dipped low, I skyrocketed, and then I steadily went down again, until I flatlined. Like I said, I skated by in college. I feel like I didn’t put in more effort. Maybe I feel robbed? Like, if I knew I had ADHD, and if I had medication to help me focus a bit, that maybe things would have gone differently? I would have been more at the top of my class in high school, and maybe I would have been able to graduate college with at least a 3.0 gpa and I would have gotten honors and maybe I would be able to get a fucking job right now in the field that I got a degree in? How is it that I’m so bad at this, that I can’t even get a job in a field that is always struggling with getting people? 

I don’t know. I’m bitter. I’m angry. I’ve been writing this for an hour. I’m still upset, I suppose, but now I’m just tired, and my hand is cramping up.

That’s another thing that I’ve noticed, over the last few months. I want to create things. I draw, I write and I’ve been designing a video game. I want to release it, but I just...I feel like people don’t care about it. The things I create. I’m not good, I’m not bad. I’m pretty damn average. So it doesn’t stand out. And I feel like - mostly with writing and the game design - that if people aren’t going to enjoy it, then what’s the point in putting in the time and energy to actually develop these things. Like you can say that it’s creating it for me, but I can think about it in my head. I can daydream these things. Giving it corporeal form so I can enjoy these things is pointless. And it’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ll show people are that I’m proud of and get lukewarm responses, or even “It’s creepy” (dear fucking Jesus am i sick of people saying what I create is creepy). Or, I’ll send people a link to the download of the demo of my game and I have gotten no responses. Like, several people have said “Yeah, I’ll play it” and then never do. It’s like, 30 minutes, at most. I’ve timed it, even with killing every single spawn I can. It only takes about 30 minutes. 

Dear God, this doesn’t even get into the problems of the world oh my Fucking God. 

I feel better after ranting like this. I’m less upset. I’m tired. Though, in the end, nobody really cares, do they?