#i spent the majority of the month not writing because exams and depression bu then caught up in like. 9 writing sessions?

[arnold-layne]

well, this was a good writing week if i may say so myself

[academiadaisies]

my struggles with studying

I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.

I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3

School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.

But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.

Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.

In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.

But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.

This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.

*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.

And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.

I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varieties of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.

But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.

I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.

I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.

But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”

Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.

And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.

But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”

I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.

Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3 (also this is a repost because I tried posting last night but it wouldn’t go to the tag, hope it works this time)

[nashvilletonihon]

Let’s Talk About Culture Shock

Ok. I know what you’re thinking... “Rachel! It’s so good to have you back! I’ve missed you!” I know friend, I know. I say “life happens” a lot which is just as much of an excuse to make myself feel better for not updating as often as I should as it is legitimate reason for my lack of posts. (Especially because the last post I wrote I promised to write more...HA HA! Whoops!!)

That being said, remember when I first arrived in Japan and all of my posts were doom and gloom get me the f*ck outta here? Yeah, me too. Well, that was child’s play compared to the week I had. For the first time since I moved I experience very real and very genuine culture shock.

Now, you might be asking yourself what the difference between the culture shock I experienced a few months ago was and the culture shock I experienced this week is. I’m sooooo glad you asked.

Upon moving to a foreign country, the first several months are obviously very difficult. Especially if that country does not speak your native language. EVERYTHING is new and exciting and terrifying. You spend all of your time figuring out which markets to buy groceries at (and if you’re like me it’s three different ones), where to get your hair cut, how much time it takes to get to certain places, where the best restaurants are, if you should try new food based on the packaging photos alone...basically you’re just trying to survive. It’s a challenge but not necessarily a negative thing. Perhaps a slight inconvenience at most.

Fast forward to now. I’ve been here for 7 months and my life has fallen into a routine. I know when to wake up and how much time it will take me to get to each school, I know how much it costs to fill up my gas tank and where I can buy specialty foreign items like tortilla chips and popcorn. Things have gotten a bit more simple but by no means easy. Life is still a challenge but I don’t lose my mind every time I have to go to the grocery store now.

That was until this week...  

It all started Monday morning when I woke up not really feeling like myself. I  tend to dread the beginning of the school week because it means that I have to go to my base school (which I don’t exactly enjoy) and pretend to work for 8 hours instead of actually being in the classroom like I am at my visit school on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s. This Monday was no different. I decided to begin the day by asking my supervisor (who 100% does NOT want to be my supervisor) to contact the Board of Education to let them know I have been excused from attending a last minute seminar as my friends are in the country. After I very calmly and simply explained this information, he proceeded to print out a schedule for said seminar, hand it to me with a curt ‘’there you go’’ and proceeded to go about his business. Mouth agape I’m shocked I didn’t blurt out ‘’you didn’t understand a word I just said did you??’’ even though I was screaming it in my head. Shocked beyond comprehension I turned to my computer and with an amazing amount of grace, decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. The rest of day went the same as every Monday usually goes. I’m used to being underutilized at my base school and while desk warming isn’t exactly what I would like to do, I normally don’t mind because it means I get to study Japanese, work on lessons for my visit school, surf the internet, etc...I keep my head down and try to blend into the desk chair. However, after I left school on this particular Monday I found myself hung up on the feeling of being mistreated and ignored. I tried to shake it but was unsuccessful as I took it with me to my visit school the next day.

Tuesday was まま ma ma (so-so). I had a few classes, one of which I taught solo, and I worked on decorations for my English Board. Although nothing monumental happened, I didn’t have my usual 元気 genki (energetic) attitude as I tried my best to hype the students up for the activities while also keeping them from tearing the school down. The day, as a whole, was pretty uneventful, kendo and karate practice included. (Even if I was a little less enthusiastic for them than I normally am.) I went to sleep that night with a heavy feeling in my chest and a nonchalant, indifferent attitude in my mind I now know is the beginning of an anxiety filled depression spiral. (Wheeeeee....)

I arrived at my base school on Wednesday morning buzzing with anxious energy feeling like I’m not even in my own body but instead floating just outside of it. I decided to try and put that energy to good use by updating the English Board which still had Christmas decorations on it. (January was filled with good intentions y’all...) I’m freaking elbows deep in switching everything out with pieces of tape on all my fingers when one of my JTE’s comes up to me and timidly says ‘‘Will you be joining the class today?’‘ In her defense I am technically supposed to attend her class. In my defense, I am literally used as a human tape recorder, spitting out a few vocabulary words and watching the students lose their mind when I pronounce Worcestershire sauce. My time would have been better spent changing the English Board...but I went to class and quietly stood by the stove instead.

Once class was finished, I knocked out the English Board and went to study at my desk. It is at this point that another JTE asks me if I had ‘’done my homework’’. Eyes glazing over I blankly stared back at him asked ‘’what homework?’’ ‘’The list of books you are supposed to write down for me to help improve my English.’’ he says. At this point I begin to very vaguely remember the conversation we had in regards to this topic. I believe I mentioned that I would make said list whenever I had the time...but I digress. I quickly assured him I would make the list and leave it for him under his computer for his perusal tomorrow when I am at my visit school. That fire put out I begin to work on studying kanji when I become acutely aware of how hard my supervisor is typing. He’s putting in grades and every time he smashes the ENTER button it sounds like he’s trying to push it through the entire keyboard. I do my best to ignore it when he finished and moves on to grading exams. As he circles each right answer I swear he’s doing his best to leave a circle shaped engraving on the desktop. It’s incredibly (and unnecessarily) aggressive. When lunch arrived I swear he slurped his miso soup louder and more annoying than usual. Granted, I’ve noticed all of these things before but today they were amplified. Every sound, every action made me grit my teeth in frustration. By the middle of the day I was crawling out of my skin anxious. I was in the throes of major cultural shock meltdown. It was at this moment that I remembered I should probably e-mail my Prefectural Supervisor to follow up on whether or not the supervisor at my base school had indeed contacted the BOE like I asked him to. Lo and behold as I was finishing my e-mail, one from my PA pops up in my inbox. I open it to discover that she’s letting me know that said base school supervisor has NOT contacted them regarding my excused absence from the seminar. Balling my hands into fists I try not to slam them on the desk in the worst fit of work rage I’ve had in a long time.  

Instead, I begin messaging Jacob stream of consciousness thoughts:   

“I want to go home. Home home. Back to America home. I want my mom. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to drive my own car. I want to drive on the right side of the road in my own car. I want to see people who look like me. I want to see people who don’t look like me but who aren’t Japanese. I want BBQ. I want a disgusting fast food burger. I want AMERICAN food. I never want to eat another Japanese meal again. I never want to see rice or sushi or freaking noodles EVER again. I don’t want to hear Japanese. I don’t want to speak Japanese. I want to hear English. I want to speak English. I want to go to the grocery store and know where and what everything is because I can READ it. I want to go to the movie theatre and see a movie. IN. ENGLISH. I’m tired. I’m over it. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”  

The entire time I’m going through this I’m doing my best not to lose my cool while sitting at my desk in the teacher’s room. It’s becoming increasingly more and more difficult. The teacher’s room is LOUD. Everyone is talking and laughing, calling to one another from across the room. To stop from screaming I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I draw blood. I’ve been messaging Jacob throughout the day and he’s aware of my current mental state. He’s doing the best he can while also working but I need air. I need quiet. I need to be alone. I grab my coat and race out the door.

I make the short walk to the コンビニ konbini (convenience store) across from my school where I buy a soda and some chocolate. I walk along the street toward the beach taking long swigs from my drink and angry munching my candy. I want nothing more than to be anywhere but here. I deep lungfuls of the crisp winter air. It’s chilly but the sun is out and the sky is clear. I lucked out weather wise. I do my best to clear my head and when I feel like I’ve been gone long enough to arouse suspicion, I head back to school. (Spoiler alert: No one noticed I was gone.) I’m not sure how but I manage to make it through the next 3 1/2 hours until it’s time for me to go home. I have to stop myself from sprinting out the door. As I walk to my car my friend, and fellow AET Natasha, messages to let me know that my request to attend Ichiba Elementary School on March 6th for their mini English Day has been denied because “I have classes”. (I will later find out that it’s Entrance Exams day and I more than likely don’t have to be at school period, much less in classes.) I get in my car and slam the door.

Jacob calls me on my way home as he walks to his bus stop. I sob like a baby. It’s the first time I’ve cried since October and it feels...good. I think I’d been bottling it up inside for a while now and having a gut wrenching, body shaking sob was soul cleansing. It wasn’t so much that I was sad, I was just so incredibly angry and frustrated that the only thing I could do was cry. I raged. I cussed. I shook my fists...and Jacob listened. Because he knew. The thing about culture shock is that it never truly goes away. It’s constantly there. But some days you’re better at ignoring it than you are others. And some days, heck, some weeks it all comes crashing down on you at once. Culture shock comes in waves. There are still days I want to pack up and go home. I miss my family and friends dearly. I miss the comforts of home and the things I’m used to. That being said, I’m beginning to create new comforts, make new memories. Mainly in part because of this guy:

A quick photo while celebrating 節分 setsubun (Spring/Bean Throwing Festival) at 吉田神社 Yoshida Shrine. SO. MUCH. GOOD. FESTIVAL. FOOD.

For those of you who creep my Instagram, you’ll have seen his handsome face a time or two before by now. For those of you who don’t, here he is. That mustachioed gentleman has pretty much been with me since Day 1. I met Jacob at the Kyoto Orientation Conference I attended 5 days after arriving in Japan. We became fast friends and as our friendship developed, so did deeper feelings. (He had them a lot earlier on than I did...for obvious reasons.) It wasn’t until our birthday (yes, we share the same birthday) that I realized “Oh sh*t. I think I’m in love with this guy.” Fast forward to four weeks later when I went down to visit him over the winter holiday and that little thought I had on our birthday had grown and solidified into a very concrete and very real feeling. I was head over heels 100% smitten. So before this post becomes another “doom and gloom” entry, I want you to know that not everything here in Japan has been bad. Not everything here in Japan has been terrible. Not everything here in Japan has been awful. (Contrary to the vast majority of my previous posts, I know.) Japan introduced me to the love of my life and showed me that a future here is possible...more than possible...a definite. 

Yes, culture shock is sneaky and culture shock is rude. It creeps up on you when you least expect it and turns the things you enjoyed into the things you resent. However, with the right mindset, the right friends and the right support system you can kick culture shock in the teeth and go about your regularly scheduled program. I’m fortunate enough to have the best kind of support system in the man I love who listens (to me rant), helps (me calm down) and advises (me not to take violent action) as need be. Seriously though, call me the luckiest gal in the world. 

I have so many more things to share concerning Jacob, our relationship and our future plans, but that is going to require a post all on its own. In the meantime, enjoy this photo of us being cute (and me with different bangs) while you wait.

Probably my favorite photo of us to date, here we are on 比叡山 Mt. Hiei after exploring 延暦寺 Enryakuji Temple with  琵琶湖 Lake Biwa and 滋賀県 Shiga Prefecture in the background. 

Japan be tryin’ real hard to knock a sistah down, but I’m holding strong and always moving forward. Now, hand in hand with the one I love.

じゃあまた (See you!)

- レイチェル (Rachel)

[loveloveloveeeeeee]

my struggles with studying

I don’t expect a lot of people to read this, and I’ll probably end up embarrassed to have typed this all up and posted it by tomorrow, but I think it’s important for me to get this out and away from myself.

I appreciate anyone who reads this, and welcome completely anyone who is/has been in a similar situation to me and wants to talk about it or has some tips. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to about it, I definitely feel like anyone I’m close to will not be a lot of help, and I don’t want to be a mental burden, with them knowing my problem, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do, and blah blah blah... Just know, anyone is completely welcome to reach out to me. I know a lot of people say that online, but I’m just a little cancer moon, cancer rising ;). I’ve got ears and struggles too. Sometimes things are difficult. :)) <3

School has always been my demise. I was basically a corpse just going class to class, making little contribution and writing down what the powerpoint said. I would zone out - not realising at all, come back to myself and suddenly the whole class was doing work, and I would have to swallow my pride, interrupt the person next to me and ask what we were supposed to do.

But my nights were wasted too. I guess I was never really taught to study, and everything I had tried for myself never seemed to work. But I didn’t try often. I remember coming home and turning on my computer to watch the next episodes of my show of the week, my mind in a dull and empty buzz, and next thing I knew it was midnight.

Growing up there was no schedule or routine. No one was really checking I had done my homework, no one checking I was showered or that I had brushed hair. There were no rules either. No specific screen time, no food rules, no bedtime. I know why, my mum was a very hard worker, having a daughter, a job, and university, and I am so grateful for her. She was busy. But it just meant I never knew much discipline. There was no structure, but I wasn’t forgotten. There was no food in the house, but there was money, and I - having no sense of diet - would spend more than was good for me on junk; a six pack of crisps a day, frozen pizza... and today that has never ended, it’s something of an addiction now. The lack of restraint and discipline is apparent everywhere in my life.

In school is where it is at it’s absolute worst. It’s not even an issue of my intelligence. The absolute last thing I want to come across as is conceited, but I did better than I deserved my first two years of high school exams having never studied for them, except maybe a bit of rereading and desperate attempts to memorise the night before. I passed everything, bar one, and sometimes with A’s.

But last year was inarguably my worst year ever, and it has bled into this year too. My attendance was below 50%, I came in maybe two or three days a week, sometimes only finally getting the motivation to show up in the afternoon, and even then I would hide away in pupil support classes, still not doing any work. My mum phoning me and screaming down the line as soon as she got the absent text. Me not knowing how to explain that I just couldn’t physically force myself to get up and ready. I started with 5 subjects and finished with 2, both of which I initially failed, but those grades were redacted because people argued the SQA were not grading fairly, basing grades on location instead of merit, and so I scraped by with two C’s. I absolutely would not have passed if not for the pandemic.

This year is hard to tell where I would be in a normal situation. I like to believe it was going to be so much better. The idea of leaving high school and entering college*. It was a fresh start. I was supposed to get my work done the day it was handed out, I was supposed to be more extroverted, and become a leader like I always wanted. But, of course, it’s all online. I think a major benefit of it is I don’t have much excuse not to be in class anymore. I can (and usually do) wake up minutes before the class starts, and do it all from bed, so if I was left to my own devices to get myself there and back, I’d bet my attendance has skyrocketed from what I it would have been. Though, my college is quite far, and I think my mum seeing to that I was on a bus, or even not in the house when she has to leave, would have been enough to ensure I was there too. If it was in person I would have no where to hide too. I wouldn’t get to have my camera off and play games during classes and not take notes, the lecturers would see. I’d have to take notes and I don’t usually do that. I wish I had. But then that just begs the question of would it be a repeat of high school? Would I be a corpse that goes through college classes blankly instead of high school ones? I really don’t know what to think. But today my college work is suffering. I have seven vital pieces of work long overdue, and I think the weight of all of them on my brain stops me from doing even one.

*If you’re not familiar with the system here, college is basically a stage after high school but below university in Scotland, that not everybody goes to. I’m not sure the school systems everywhere in the world but it’s not the equivalent of sixth form college in England, or what’s called college in the US, which would be university here. I’m sorry if this sounds dumb because there’s probably this everywhere in the world but I just want to clarify what stage I’m at exactly. I’m taking a HNC which is kind of the equivalent of first year university.

And so it leads me to believe I have ADD/ADHD. I really am not about to self diagnose. Although it might be enough for some, I often worry I’m a bit of a paranoid person, and that I like to jump to the most “extreme” conclusions, but I don’t think my livelihood makes it totally unlikely.

I find myself devoting my time and what motivation I have to things that just don’t matter. I’ve memorised maps of the US, Europe, Scotland and Ireland. I took up interests in religion and astrology, buying crystals as if they were coming to save me like all the TikToks say. I’ve taught myself bits of piano, British Sign Language, chess, Teeline shorthand and Morse code, just to give up. I even made it to 100 days on Duolingo learning Scottish Gaelic before I stopped that too. Engrossed in wide varities of things that I’d love to be great at, abandoning it because I’ve decided I’m bored.

But the worst waste of my time is always spent on my phone. I am a huge advocate for downtime, not every single second has to be productive. But it’s never good to have a 12 hour daily screen time average.

I can never concentrate either. I can’t force myself to. As I write this I have an essay due I’ve had for a month, and I’m going to have to do it all tomorrow. I don’t understand why I can’t physically force myself to get it done. I always think, “why am I on TikTok when I have an essay due?” And I never really have a reason. Even my driving instructor told me to get tested because, especially nearing the end of the lessons, my attention starts to waver, and I find her having to change gears for me sometimes, and warning me to stop looking at whatever might pass by.

I have a little list of priorities in my mind too. I keep reminding myself that I have this essay and this assignment to do, but I also have ideas of starting a blog or reading a book. The school work is first in the list of priorities, I know it needs to be done first and so I take it to the extreme and can’t seem to do anything meaningful at all until it’s gone. Of course, it never is gone, I never do it, and I find myself scrolling social medias all day, a perfectly anodyne time waster. No substance and no thoughts.

But I’m a perfectionist too, with very little confidence. I can tell part of me puts it off because it needs to be as good as it possibly can be, and another part tells me I’ll start it later, I’ll feel better about it later. I have big ideas, that if only I could force myself to do, would be great, but the idea of it not being good enough only puts me off. I’d not do the work until it’s at the point where the excuse is “it’s only bad because I didn’t give myself enough time to do it,” because of the fear of the possibility “it’s bad because I’m bad at it.”

Part of my inability to really do anything I think also had to do with depression. ADD/ADHD makes my life chaos. My room is a mess, there is no organisation or structure in my day, there is no motivation to fix it, no understanding of how to fix it. I’m a very intuitive person, because I have to be. Any decision I make is unknown to me until it’s happening really. I can’t plan when I’m starting work, sometimes I just have to hope I get the motivation to open my laptop. I think depression feeds off the ADD/ADHD symptoms. My room is messy because I can’t be organised, then my mindset worsens because I have such a terrible, unlivable space with no motivation to do anything about it, and it just stays that way. I can’t concentrate long enough to do work, then my mindset worsens because it means I have work overdue, that will have bad consequences, people disappointed in me, and etc, etc. I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m articulating myself well here. I’m intuitive in decisions but I’m also an overthinker. Or maybe just more of a worrier. I don’t do the work and so, every time my phone pings I jump and check cautiously because I fear it’s my lecturer messaging me that I’m off the course. The depression really took a terrible toll on my life. I won’t get too into it but I can hardly talk to friends, find the motivation to shower, or even go outside. All I find myself doing is lying in bed staring at a screen. I don’t know what else I can really do about it.

And the worst part is, in my mind, I have myself convinced that it’s not even that bad. That it’ll be okay tomorrow, I’ll change tomorrow, as if I’m not long past the point of this just being a little off day.

But one thing I do I know is a symptom of ADD/ADHD, which consumes my whole mind, is my hyperfixation. I won’t go too deep but basically for just over a year it’s been an honestly unsubstantial book I read. Loved by many, but nothing special, in comparison. I’ve only read it maybe twice all the way through but it never leaves my mind. I relish in any and all fan works, stalking the ao3 works, refreshing the tumblr tag. I can just stand and jump and pace, while listening to one song on repeat, thinking about the characters in all kinds of scenarios for hours on end. I can imagine the main character as me in everything I do; as I pick up a book from my bookshelf, as I walk my dog, as I lay down at night. I constantly compare myself to him too, feeling bad that I’m not as similar or good. I hate it. I don’t know if I even like the book anymore, I don’t think it’s possible to tell, I’m just obsessed with it.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it really. The NHS don’t diagnose ADHD in adults, and I’m only 18. I’ve been this way my whole life but no one ever paid much attention to it. When I told my mum I think I have depression, she laughed at me, then got really angry, saying I’m not depressed just lazy, before buying me flowers and telling me she was worried I was going to hurt myself. Now I feel like I can’t speak about anything serious like this rationally because she looks for every reason that there is no problem, and if there is it’s the worst possible case, and “oh I’ve been a terrible mum.”

I don’t understand my problem. I have big dreams and goals for my life, I know what I am doing now will never get me anywhere but still that knowledge is not enough to get me to do what I need to. I’ve even written this post over eight days, for all the distractions and lack of motivation I’ve had to finish it. It’s a never ending cycle, but I really hope having this out there now will spark something in me. I’m sure this will make someone feel better about their situation now too, and that’s totally okay! If it can help someone, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m sorry I probably brought up a lot of completely irrelevant stuff, and went into tangents at times, but I just wanted to stress how it all plays into each other. They’re all connected, which brings a lack of motivation and discipline to my life and my work. I just want to let it all go.

Again, I really don’t think many people will read this but anyone is completely welcome to message. If anyone has some tips for people who can just never concentrate, or also anyone who is in social sciencey type courses (psychology, sociology, politics esp) and has some tips for doing that too I’d be so grateful. :) <3

[rozonelayer-blog]

Sunday 10th June

This was my first full week in the UK since arriving back from Denmark. This is how I have been adjusting to the change from rainy northern Europe to rainy northern Europe:

There is no cousin Evelyn

Wendy is pregnant

I still get catcalled

No sex for Katie

There is no Cousin Evelyn

This only transpired after I'd spent the entirety of Eve's birthday dinner calling her Evelyn, and had interpreted her statement "No one calls me Evelyn" as meaning "No one uses my full name" - whereas what she meant, it turns out, is "My name is Eve", and Ro just calls her Evelyn to wind her up.

We were invited out on Wednesday night for her birthday. Ro's mother has four sisters and the cousins are more like brothers and sisters, being of a similar age and having grown up in the same neighbourhood of Kuala Lumpur. Ro and his older sister Fern are the same ages as Evelyn and her younger brother Max, who Ro calls Marx. Max lives and works in Singapore; Evelyn, whose 31st birthday I helped celebrate on Wednesday, lives with her parents in KL.

I had made a last-minute stop in Accessorize to get Evelyn a present. Not wanting to get her jewellry (she's got a better sense of style than me), I picked out a pair of socks with a llama's face on them and a pineapple-scented hairbrush. It was only after I'd given Evelyn the bag that it occurred to me that the present was more suitable for a 12 year old than a 31 year old. At the cashier, the lady serving asked me if I wanted them wrapped and I said no - I had bought a gift bag after all - but she tutted and said "If it's your boyfriend's cousin, you'd really better wrap them." On the label, I wrote "To Evelyn, Happy birthday, Katie." And I left space for Ro to write his name should he wish to.

My supervisor Wendy is pregnant

An alarming discovery, also exciting, most of all unexpected.

She had asked to meet to "catch up" on Wednesday morning, and afterwards I understood why. Actually, as she walked down the corridor towards me, it was her hair I noticed - had it really grown that much in two months? "Yeah," she said, "I was going to tell you that I'm pregnant" and pointed at her belly, which was protruding through her dress. She's seven months gone and it's a little boy. Which means she was five months gone the last time I saw her, when we were marking exam scripts together on Good Friday. "After Easter it just popped," she explained. Bizarre because this, more than anything else, made me feel like I'd missed a lot while I was in Copenhagen. Although of course I know the pregnancy must have started in November or around that time, to me it feels like it has happened while I was gone. The last time I saw Wendy, we were having a laugh over the mistakes students had made in their tests, and eating strawberries and satsumas. She would wear miniskirts and skinny jeans, and carry her bike up to her office each day. Actually, I guess she wasn't turning up on her bike quite so often towards the end of last term...

Today I bought her a gift: a teething band. It's brightly coloured and made from organic materials, and I think it's cute. Finding out she was pregnant was the most exciting moment of my week and the emotion took me by surprise: I've never felt happy for something pregnant before. Babies repulse me and hers probably will too, but she loves kids - she's built a career out of child language research - and I can't believe she'll have one of her own. It's hard to get my head round because I think of her as a contemporary - even though she's my supervisor, she's only seven years older than me - and I feel slightly sad that she'll no longer be of my generation. She'll have moved on a life stage.

I still get catcalled

A piece of news from the opposite end of the spectrum. It happened to me twice in the last week.

The first time was last Sunday evening. I was heading to Wanstead Park overground to go meet Ro and his friends at Walthamstow. On the way, a man said "Excuse me, excuse me: did you come to my letting agency?"

"No," I replied, and carried on walking.

"You did, you did," he said. "You came to my letting agency about two months ago," and he walked with me, following me.

"No," I said again, and quickened my pace. He left me alone after that.

Part of me worries that I was being racist: the way he picked me out would have been creepy, even if he had been White - wouldn't it? What about if he had been in a suit and tie? If he had spoken like me? Actually, he was wearing a shirt, he looked South Asian, maybe in his fifties, sounded respectable, but something about the look in his eyes. Had I been wearing jeans, wearing a fleece or a hoody, I think this wouldn't have bothered me and I'd have written him off as eccentric; I interpreted him as a weirdo partly because I was in a summer dress with my hair down.

On another night, maybe Wednesday, I left my office and walked to the tube station to go meet Ro and Evelyn. There is a pub barely ten metres from my office and two men were stood outside it smoking (young, White and in trackies this time). I inadvertently caught one's eye. "Alright love," they began calling. "You look lovely. What's your name? Where you going?"

The first of these incidents - at Wanstead Park - gave me a bit of a kick. The man was at a bus stop; I had the pleasure of coolly saying "No" and walking away unphased. He looked like the idiot in that situation. But the second incident: I had just left university, left my work; I had spent the day in the office or in seminars, working on my own project or giving feedback and asking questions after others had presented their work. I spend the day intellectually engaged and contributing to a professional academic community. Then, almost the moment I had stepped out of the university, I got catcalled. I got catcalled the same way I used to get whistled at or beeped at when I was a teenager. Back then I was a vulnerable naive child; now I'm a competent high achiever with a string of degrees and qualifications to my name. To men on the street, though, none of that matters, and they still have the power to shame me on a whim. Catcalling happens to me much less frequently than it did ten years ago and I think it's because I look more confident and less teenager-y now. So the times that it does happen, it pisses me off doubly.

No sex for me

... for the moment. Ro says he's feeling bad about himself: he had a sports injury; he made a mistake at work. As far as I can see, the mistake was a simple spreadsheet error, the kind of thing that could happen to anyone overworked and under pressure, as he has been - and it was of no consequence in the end anyway.

I didn't realise how badly I wanted sex with Ro until now, when I'm not getting any. I had extreme heat for him by the time we got to that weekend in Oslo - the 21st April or thereabouts. On the first night, we got to our hotel room at about midnight. I began undressing and he did too, and I came over petulant and said I was the one who got to take his trousers off. So he let me do that, and I got on top of him and was kissing him, I wanted him so badly, but then he very gently held me off and said he was just feeling a bit tired. As I remember it, the next morning he didn't want sex either, but I grinned and said I'd do everything, so he smiled back and we did it (and actually he did the majority of the work).

We did sleep with each other in Denmark, which was 11th May. But not since I got back to the UK ten days ago. I feel bad because I'm always the one pushing for sex, whereas Ro has never, ever made me feel at all bad the times I haven't wanted sex. There was a period when I didn't want to - around November, more or less the same time I got diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I don't think I'm an especially randy person but it's hard at the moment: either I don't come onto him, and he doesn't come onto me, and nothing happens; or I come onto him, and sometimes it works, but other times not, and recently not at all. And then he has to figure out a way to turn me down without hurting my feelings, and I feel so so stupid. The other night, after Evelyn's birthday dinner, we were making out in his room and I could feel him getting hard, so I kept on kissing him and pressed myself against him - until eventually I had to concede that he wasn't really kissing me back, and then he said he was going to brush his teeth. I curled up in bed and didn't look at him again, and I lay awake for a while feeling disgusting. I hated myself for being so lecherous and for forcing myself on him; and I hated myself for not being more attractive, or more alluring, and basically for not knowing how to turn him on.

On the phone yesterday, he said "Sorry we didn't have sex," and I felt even more terrible. "You have nothing, nothing to apologise for," I told him. Before I met him, I could never have imagined that a man could be so perfect. He is an angel in everything he does. I want to tell him I love him every five minutes of every day, and be with him until we're old and fall asleep and die in armchairs next to each other.