#i’m diagnosed with adhd btw so i’m not talking out of my ass

[har-har-harvey]

of course! while you’re here can i bounce off the walls talking a mile a minute, knowing that you’re listening and very happy to be there

well???

[shikagemaru]

Been having an identity crisis recently. There's It a whole lot of things adding up to that. Call it a rant and ignore it if you want. There's only like 3 of you guys anyway.

I would put a readmore here if I knew how to do that on mobile (thanks for sucking, only social media app I feel at all comfortable with)

•It really doesn't help that the past 7 years of my life have been completely stagnant. Since I haven't been able to work my wife and I have had basically no freedom of our own.

•2 years ago I was put in jail because a pair of psychopaths decided to go from 70 to 0 on the highway in front of us, and get out to try attacking us. I tried backing up to go around but obviously the car behind me was too close and the highway was at speed in the right lane. So I had to go around on the grass while these 2 crazy assholes were approaching while shouting threats. One was coming for my wife's window. So I did what I had to and bumped one of them. He wouldn't move and our safety was more important than him being hurt a little. There was a high speed chase through our community, and while we're on the phone with the police these two are trying to force us off the road. The cops even see one of them hanging out the window shouting threats at us. We pull into a mcdonalds parking lot and after talking to them for a bit the cops arrest me because he said I "ran him over" on purpose. He was so uninjured that he refused medical care at the scene, but he kept telling people I ran him over. They were also both arrested btw. I was held without food or mpving air for over 13 hours and I have a history of heat stroke and hypoglycemia (it's bot exactly that, but it's like living outside of a big city and tellinf people you're from there instead of the local podunk you actually live in). Long story short it was torturous, and then I got put in actual jail. They didn't care that I have a long list of disabilities. When I was released I had to wear an anklr monitor while taking weekly drug tests. The numbers on the drug test kept reading that I was using weed even though I wasn't. It was insanely stressful as the numbers didn't change from one week to another. My fear was that because I was rapidly losing weight from stress that the thc being held onto in the fat was being detected. NOPE. turns out one of my DAILY meds was testing false positive. "Shouldn't they know about the false positive drug and account for it?" Youd think. But when they scanned my medication bottles that one came out blurred and they never entered it into their system. In case there are any lingering feelings that I was guilty, the court case more than handled that. The prosecutor was the kind of scumbag that, before my trial, tried prosecuting this guy's mother-in-law for assaulting him when she tried taking her grandkid out of his arms because he was using the baby to shield himself when the family confronted him about having a fake medical license and it ruining all their lives. It turns out I was put through hell and all he was seeking was "anger management counciling" because he believed that I, the guy protecting his wife, had road rage issues. One listen to the 911 calls would have straightened thst up. My lawyer kicked his ass just a little more than I did on the stand. Long story concluded, thanks for the ptsd. The nightmares have been lovely. So is panicking whenever a door closes kinda loud.

•Last year I was able to self diagnose myself with autism. For those who don't know, the vast majority of autistic people self diagnose, largely due to "experts" on average not being well educated on what autism is outside of the stereotypical cases. Most women aren't diagnosed until adults. Most "high functioning" (which is an awful description when you lesrn that it was created by a literal nazi to separate autistic people into "kill these ones" and "don't kill these ones" categories) people aren't diagnosed until adulthood. And by then actually getting the diagnosis is a challenge. And frequently it involves exercising privelege to get the right people involved.

So knowing what I know now a lot of my life suddenly makes sense. People accusing me of being manipulative when I literally don't know what it is that makes them think that? Severe miscommunications? Obsessing over specific topics to the point where people want to avoid me? Always being "the weird one" and as a result being a social outcast from day 1? Despite being considered very intelligent, I've been super easily manipulated by people my whole life. I can barely ever tell a person no, even if I know I should. Hell. There have been entire relationships I've had with people where I thought we were friends and they didn't think the same thing. Learning who or even how to trust becomes a challenge.

Yeah, it all makes sense now. I want to say "i don't know how they didn't see it", but I do. The 90s was shit for mental health. Since they knew I had tourettes (thanks for that, universe) and adhd, my obsessive tendencies were labeled ocd. Actual adult relationships have gone entirely to shit because of miscommunication. People seem to think I mean one thing when I mean another entirely. People think I'm angry when I'm not. I've basically been told never to be passionate about a topic.

How does a person handle that? It doesn't unfuck relationships with people. Once someone thinks you're lying and manipulating that's it. Nothing you can ever say will ever dissuade them. It doesn't matter that they were the ones that misunderstood. Somehow it becomes the fault of the autistic person. And good luck if you're ever autistic and have a panic attack. So I'm trying not to care about that. It's hard. It's especially hard knowing that things didn't have to, and may not have gone the way they did if i had known about it earlier. I wish I could rebuild certsin relationships. My wife and I used to fight, but since we realized that both of us have these triggers because we're both autistic, we resolve almost every misunderstanding like a walk in the park. But that doesn't work with people you haven't spoken to in years. Even if a lot of it was frankly their fault.

•And the latest fuckery? I have no idea what gender I am. If I had the power to shapeshift I'd probably change on a daily or hourly basis. I had an alt account years ago where I posted fanfiction. Some people in the community assumed they knew my gender and pronouned me as such in the comments. That was the first time I had ever experienced gender euphoria. I was....upset, when someone corrected them. Would have been nice if they asked me first. I enjoyed the confusion quite a lot actually. And since I have a terrible time coming up with names for things (my screen name is from 20 years ago and I never figured out a new one) so I don't know where I would start building up a new persona. And for what? To get the rush of people not knowing which pronouns to use? I hate it. I want it. I don't know if I can ever come out as trans. People think trans means m2f and f2m, and it doesn't really matter to the public consciousness that there's more to it than that. I want to scream at people that I'm trans, but i don't know what I even want my body to look like. If I woke up tomorrow and I was suddenly transformed would I be happy? I have no idea. No? Yes?

I don't know who I am or how to even identify. I'm a disabled, autistic, lgbtq ethnic minority with no financial freedom, and my 40s are approaching. Life is a challenge. Sometimes I wish I could just Danny Phantom it up. And by sometimes I mean daily.

[applesauccce]

What’s up gamers, back at it again with complaints and over sharing about my life. I swear I’m not turning into a life blogger, I just want somewhere to spew my thoughts that isn’t google docs. (Quick tw: gaslighting, emotional abuse, homophobia, eating disorders)

Anyways, so as a quick summary, I got on decent meds, have seen a real difference, but am still having a multitude of problems. Brain fog, inability to concentrate or focus on tasks (even if it’s something I want to do, like cleaning my room or painting), extreme memory loss, both short term and long term, an excess of nervous energy that prevents me from sleeping or concentrating, over sensitivity to various stimuli, food texture sensitivities, etc etc etc. I’m working with a very nice psychiatrist (he’s been very supportive) and hopefully will remember to find a therapist to work with as well.

Basically, we’ve been running through the potential causes for my issues and will slowly eliminate them. The current list of most likely causes of me not being able to function is as follows. Adhd (runs in the family on both sides, I have a lot in common with adhd individuals), Autism (likely, based on my behaviors), PTSD (welcome to Trauma Town), Anxiety (no shit Sherlock), and Depression (my current meds need more time to take full effect). Currently we are waiting to see if giving my current meds more time to take effect will help at all, but it’s very likely that it won’t solve everything.

Now here’s my problem. My mom (bless her heart in every way, she is an angel on earth) is extremely supportive in every way. She listens to me, validates my worries, asks genuine questions about my experiences, and is generally open minded to most everything. She genuinely wants the best for me and has learned over the years that her idea of what’s best may not necessarily be the solution, so she has chosen to be open minded and supportive.

My father on the other hand (my parents are divorced btw, you’ll see why in a moment) is the exact opposite. Take every boomer parent that thinks they know best. has the most set in stone and stubborn mindset, and throw in a heavy dash of narcissism (scratch that, pour in the whole container) and you have my trash bag of a father. To name just a few things that he does/says.............(brace yourself, it’s a long list)

Barely tolerates me being queer (pansexual, told him. Non binary, cannot tell him unless I want to be disowned, abused, and murdered)

Believes that women shouldn’t work after they are married and they need to have kids

Claims that trans, nb, and gender fluid people are “corrupted” and have been sent by Satan to destroy the nuclear family

Thinks “the gays” are some angry liberal movement, “just like those awful BLM people”. My favorite things he’s said is “they just want govenerment funding and special laws passed to give them the power to sue religious people”, “if you want respect, why don’t you go out and organize your gay friends and do a service project to show you’re good people”, “if someone’s uncomfortable with a gay person, they have the right to refuse service!” “But what if was the other way around? What if a gay person was uncomfortable with a religious person and refused them service?” “Thats discrimination!”, “I tolerate gay people! I’ve had gay friends!” “......you do realize that means next to nothing right?” “hOw RuDe!”, and finally “yeah, you’d marry a woman just to spite me.”

I was prescribed birth control by my dr for extremely painful periods. I then happened to go visit my bf at the time and since I didn’t want to stay in my moms house (had issues with her husband, he’s a nice guy tho, we chill now), his mom offered to let me stay in their spare room, as long as I kept the door locked at night. He found out and immediately called me a whore and said I was ruining my life, had used his insurance to get the birth control to have sex, and was a disrespectful disgrace to the family. He then proceeded to tell his entire family.

When I was talking about the possible diagnosis for my issues, I mentioned autism and he laughed and said “you don’t have autism, you’re normal. Plus, you don’t look like it, and you’re smart. Trust me, I know mental handicaps, I grew up with a handicapped sister.” (His sister does not have autism and is an extreme case, she needs round the clock care). Like thanks for invalidating my thoughts and research, saying I don’t look “disabled enough”, and saying I’m too smart to have problems.

When I was discussing my eating issues, I mentioned that it was likely I was/am anorexic, based on my behaviors and thought process surrounding food. He laughed and said “oh don’t be dramatic. You’re not anorexic. Look at you! Still plump and healthy, you have meat on your bones!” I told him it wasn’t about physical appearance, it was about the mental process about food. He rolled his eyes and said to stop self diagnosing myself. Like thanks for again invalidating me.

Is in general, a gaslighting, narcissistic, self righteous bitch who thinks he is the most amazing and religious person in the world. He constantly complains about not being able to find a new wife (I wonder why /s)

Not to mention his absolute cultish fanaticism over religion. Like don’t even get me started. He’s the reason that people think Mormons are cultists.

Anyways, so my dad sucks ass, but thinks he’s a god among men. The only reason I moved in with him was because at the time my mental health was really bad and I was having a very hard time dealing with my moms husband. Things are a lot better now and I’m lowkey considering moving back in with my mom bc holy fuck I am so sick of dealing with my father.

Also I’m trying to find a therapist to help me figure things out and help find a diagnosis. If it is autism, I’m going to shove it in his face and laugh at him. And if/when I get diagnosed with an eating disorder, I am also going to shove it in his face and tell him he’s a bitch. Can’t wait till he realizes that all his children hate him and are never going to “choose to live with their daddy” bc they’d rather not be gaslighted and emotionally abused.

[flightysquip]

also time for some mental health babbling

this isn’t a rant or a complaint.  this is genuinely me curious.

so like

not that there are a ton of depictions of bipolar disorder in media (*that actually focus on treatment or humanizing the character or whatever, that isn’t just shorthand for Evil Or Slutty Person) but most of them i can think of off the top of my head (and i’ve been guilty of this myself in my writing in the past), when they name a medication, immediately go to lithium

which, like, i get it in a sense.  it’s an easy shorthand for bipolar treatment (i would guess a similarity would be ‘depressed person always prescribed prozac’ but my knowledge of antidepressants is not the strongest, the only experience i have with antidepressants was celexa and resulted in hospitalization).  and, like, it also sounds hardcore and medieval as fuck (well, that’s at least my reaction when i hear it mentioned), so it probably makes it easier to justify the inevitable ‘bipolar person stops taking their meds’ storyline that will inevitably pop up.  those are just sorta my guesses.

my question is

like

does anyone’s doctor, when they’re first starting treatment for bipolar (and i’m talking bipolar 1 specifically), actually jump immediately to lithium?

my experiences are limited, of course, and i’m just talking about myself personally.  and i’m sure factors like family history and severity and all of that come into play, maybe affects of other drugs on the patient or whatever.  i don’t know.  i really don’t.  i was initially diagnosed by a, like, a standard MD or whatever, like, a primary care doctor (i just mean she wasn’t a psychiatric doctor).  I made an appointment, went in because i thought i had depression, she did her assessment, diagnosis, and started discussing treatment options.  she DID mention lithium, but not in a “this is a possible route we could go” way but as a sort of, like, potential escalation if other meds didn’t work.  she also stated that she’d rather not go this route because taking lithium requires routine bloodwork and, I think her exact words were that it was a much more ‘high maintenance course of treatment’ than lamictal or some of the other options (i mean, obviously with lamictal you have to worry about the infamous “rash”, but no blood work was required, no concerns about it damaging your liver or anything in the same way that you have to monitor with lithium--again from my understanding with what she communicated that day).

she also started me on a really low dose, too, and built me up.  it wasn’t just ‘here’s a mindnumbing dose of this medication you’ve never taken, go on your way’.  i guess i can understand why this isn’t as explored in media though--it’s not really sexy or exciting, the little microadjustments and all that.

anyway, when i was eventually hospitalized (and taken off the celexa that i’d been prescribed to help with anxiety lol), once again the doctors in the psych facility did assessments and discussed treatment plans and all of that.  and i had another med added in addition to removing the celexa and keeping the lamictal.  and once again, lithium was discussed, as a sort of “if these meds don’t work, we have other options up to and including this form of treatment” and once again i was given the “we would rather not go that route” talk (i’m not saying this means lithium is bad btw!  i have no experience taking it, and different meds work for different people.  i just mean it’s a little ??? that almost all media i’ve consumed that features bipolar/manic-depressive patients, lithium is usually so casually namedropped).  side note, the whole experience of being committed involved a lot of assessments of other possible diagnoses because, like, bipolar holds a lot of similarities to other disorders (shoutout to my bpd and adhd sibs!)

and when i was released from the hospital and starting seeing a psychiatrist, once again we touched on treatment options, diagnosis, etc etc.  once again i went through some mild adjustments and communication about treatment options and so on.  and, like, i guess the reason i bring that up is, i’ve had multiple different levels of assessment (general practitioner, crisis/emergency psychiatric care, specialized week by week psychiatrist), and a fair discussion of meds and options, i’ve never been prescribed lithium or even had it seriously considered.  and, though again this is all anecdotal of course, i have a fair amount of friends/associates/familywhatever you want to call them who have bipolar disorder too, and i think maybe one of them has disclosed taking lithium (shit this makes it sound like i spend all my time sitting around talking about meds and symptoms with anyone who discloses their mental illness to me lmao fuck i’m obnoxious!).

you know what med universally gets brought up though across the board?  lamictal (my uncle even got that infamous rash, so i know it’s not actually a scare tactic!).  this isn’t me saying this should be the new shorthand medication in shows with bipolar characters.  but it’s just funny to me, i guess, that my personal experience doesn’t have a running narrative of “evil personality warping lithium!!!!” instead it’s “so hey i’m having my dose adjusted on this developed-as-an-antiseizure-med and hey does this look like a cluster of pimples or is it a rash because apparently if i get a rash i gotta hurry my ass to the doctor or i’ll die”

and i don’t know if maybe experiences with psychiatric care are just radically different elsewhere in the country, or if hollywood is just being hollywood, if it’s just out of date information or if my experiences are abnormal or what.  i mean, i guess it’s more, like, some variety would be nice, maybe?  not just in meds either, but all aspects.  some variety would be cool.

[pockets-of-peace]

I have had it with my mother in law

(I did not realize how long this was going to be until after I was done. Hence the read-more. Sorry guys, this one really is a novel. I had stuff to work though.)

I have two stories that are unrelated situations about the same thing. 

About two weeks ago R and I had a huge fight about this:

Last February during the drive home from the airport, after our flight home from going to SD for his grandfather’s funeral R says to me, “Mom wants me to come up for my 40th birthday so she can throw a big party for me.” (his 40th is 8/2019 so a little over two years at that point) to which my response was “Well... you should probably tell your mom that she needs to start talking to me about planning that.” He didn’t tell her, and she hasn’t said anything to me. 

Flash forward to two weeks ago he brought it up again. Something about one of his bosses is taking his birthday week off next year which made him think he probably wouldn’t be able to take that week off too like his mother wanted. And I exploded. 

YOUR MOTHER HASN’T SAID ONE FUCKING WORD TO ME ABOUT A BIRTHDAY PARTY! FOR THAT FACT, NEITHER HAVE YOU!! AM I - YOUR WIFE - TO BE EXCLUDED IN THE PLANNING OF A MILESTONE BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR YOU??? ARE LIAM AND I EVEN INCLUDED IN THIS TRIP OR IS IT JUST FOR YOU?? AND HOW THE FLYING FUCK DO YOU PLAN ON PAYING FOR THAT ANYWAY?????

Probably not the best route to go because it immediately put him on the defensive. But no one’s ever accused me of being tactful when I’m angry. He’s a dreamer, and I am a planner. He comes up with the ideas and it’s left to me to plan the shit. But when I try to sit down and have a logical discussion about planning a visit with his parents he always immediately goes on the defensive. Like I don’t want it to happen. Like I’m trying to keep it from happening. 

It was .... a pretty ugly fight. But the gist of it was he and his mother want this party, and even though I haven’t been included in discussing it, I’ll be the one to figure out how the fuck to get us there, and how does he think that makes ME feel when he flat out refused to go to any effort at all to do something for our anniversary? But I better hop to because she wants us to make a trip up there!! Oh, and remember when you turned 30 R?? Remember how I wanted to do something nice for you? Make a really nice supper, and go do something fun?? Remember how you flat out told me no and refused to even so much as take the night off of work??? REMEMBER THAT?!?!? ...... He hadn’t remembered, but I clearly saw the shame in his eyes when I made him remember it. 

After we’d gone to separate corners and calmed down, he came back to talk it over after a while and said it he doesn’t mean to go on the defensive when I try to talk facts about planning a trip, but it makes him feel like I don’t care. And I was brutally honest with him this time. 

I don’t care anymore. 

Maybe I’d care if she’d bother to include me in plans like this instead of what feels to me, purposely excluding me

Maybe I’d care if I were included in forming the plans when they want to visit since I am the one opening my home to them. But I’m not. I’m ignored. In my own home. 

Maybe I’d care if they didn’t insist on visiting during our absolute WORST financial times

Maybe I’d care if their visits didn’t habitially leave us in debt 

Maybe I’d care if they hadn’t flat out lied to us to get us up there for that funeral, which yet again, put us on the financial spot

Maybe I’d care if either of them ever even pretended to like me, even for just a day. But they don’t. Neither of them speak to me unless I’m in the same room because to ignore me then would be obviously rude

Maybe I’d care if she didn’t purposely do things like this that put you in the middle and force you to chose between her and me because if we’re all being honest adults here, that’s what hurts me the most, watching her do that to you.

Nothing was really solved that night, but at least we didn’t go to bed not speaking. 

Flash forward to tonight. 

She called at 11:07 last night. It’s not the first time she’s done this, and it bothers me when she calls that late. I didn’t care when he was just getting home at 11 or 12 at night, if they called that late. Whatever. But he’s home by 4 pm, five days a week now! There is no reason to be calling after 10 pm unless it’s an emergency. But I can’t say that. 

(btw she does that because she can’t be bothered to remember something so simple as that there is a 2 hour time difference between them and us)

Amazingly, he did not answer the phone. He just said, “It’s too damn late, I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Which he did. I wasn’t in the room during their conversation, but much later, when the night was winding down he says to me:

“Mom asked me about some of the stuff you’ve been posting about on Facebook.”

“Oh really? What stuff?” 

“Well, she wants to know what group you keep talking about in reference to Autiusm, and when I explained it to her she wanted to know why you were in them.” 

I scrolled all the way back to January on my Facebook page, I haven’t mentioned the Asperger’s group I’m in once since at least January 1st. I didn’t scroll further than that. I did find this:

You see that date? A solid month ago. She asked him about this one too, and he had to explain to her how often parents in that group post about a fresh diagnosis and that they’re mourning a loss like it’s the end of the goddamn world that their child has Asperger's, a very high functioning part of the Autism spectrum, and how very much that bothers me emotionally. 

Then he goes:

“And then she wanted to know about the Easter post.”  ....he’s talking about this:

And I’m like “What’s to explain? She knows we don’t celebrate Easter.” He got this pained look on his face and I was like “Look, she can live in her own delusion that you’ll eventually go back to the Catholic church all she likes, but I live in reality, and in reality, we aren’t Christian and don’t celebrate Easter, and neither one of us seems to give a single fuck about it.”

He changed the topic. 

“Well, then she asked me about that thing you posted yesterday.”  This: 

“What about it?” 

“She thought you were talking about my family.”

“She thought I was talking about her and your dad??”

“......yeah...”

I took a minute to look the status up and read it to him. Then I looked at him “Why the fuck would she think that’s about her??? That is CLEARLY an emotional post about my relationship with MY MOTHER!!!” 

“I know... and I told her that.” 

*silence for a moment*

*he starts to squirm a bit* 

“R, she needs to stop going on the goddamn defensive every single time I mention family. IT’S NOT ALWAYS ABOUT HER!!! She also needs to stop getting defensive when I talk about autism, or mental health. And you know, she could have commented on any one of those statuses asking me to explain what I meant and I would have. But she didn’t. BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER REFUSES TO SPEAK TO ME UNLESS SHE’S ABSOLUTELY FORCED TO AND I FOR ONE AM FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF IT!!!!!”

His looked at bit shocked that that had triggered me to yell, and he changed the topic completely. 

I don’t get it. I just don’t understand it. I’m tired of trying to understand it. I’ve thought myself in circles about this shit so many times over the years. 

Maybe she resents me because he stayed down here, got serious with me, and started to put down roots instead of moving home? I don’t know, but I suspect that. 

She doesn’t understand and resents my health issues. 

She resents that I stayed home with Liam when he was little before school was an option. We were so broke, but we also didn’t have anyone to watch him, couldn’t afford childcare, and R worked nights. And we only had one car, I had to work around his schedule. We didn’t think that the very limited hours I could work would bring enough money to make it worth it. That was a decision we both came to. She ignores that and blames me. 

She bad mouths me to everyone up there. She’s never done so to my face, but I’ve always suspected it because everyone is always so surprised at how I act, and my personality when they meet me. Why the surprise if they didn’t already have a preconceived impression of me? This past trip I had proof she’s doing it and passed that little nugget along to R. 

She absolutely HATES it when I mention anything about R having ADHD, even though he’s been diagnosed and CLEARLY exhibits a whole host symptoms to anyone who knows him. She firmly believes that there’s nothing wrong with him as if I’m implying that there’s something wrong with him for having that. 

I truly do think that she’s one of those moms that no matter how prefect her son’s spouse is, she wouldn’t like them on principal. 

I just don’t know. Tonight I got to wondering .... I’ve always made myself scarce when he calls them because with his ADHD he’s so very distractable. He doesn’t get to see them often and misses them so much. Phone calls and skype calls are their primary outlet to keep in touch. So I give them privacy. And it allows them to better talk to Liam who is also both a huge distraction, and very distractable.  ..... And also lately because her favorite topic is politics. She’s a huge Trumpette and I just can’t. For the sake of my temper not boiling over, I make myself scarce. 

I’m wondering if that consideration has instead bitten me on the ass. Has she taken that as I don’t want anything to do with them when nothing could be further from the truth? 

I don’t know. I just don’t know. 

What I do know is that I am 110% done with her shit, and that I will be taking steps to close myself, and whatever I post on Facebook, off from her. We have been together for over thirteen years and if you still can’t even attempt to talk to me unless forced to I just don’t see a reason to continue allowing you space in my life.  ..... Too bad I’m the only one that ever posts pictures of Liam. 

Not seeing the grandbaby ..... that’s going to suck. 

[eempath-blog1]

4/28

I am a loud, fast, over explaining kind of talker....anyone else? Yeah that’s my lack of confidence, anxiety and adhd (& yes I’ve been clinically diagnosed and medicated for anyone who thinks I’m just fishing for attention).

But to my point....does anyone else feel absolutely unheard?! Like....in one ear out the other has never made more sense to me. Half ass “Yeah” people drive me crazy - like fuck you I have something important to say stop “yeah-ing” me and listen.

And btw - YES there is a major difference between hearing and listening. Anyone can listen to you talking, but is anyone fucking hearing you? Understanding you? Validating your thoughts/feelings? That’s a major difference.

So I slow down, I emphasize my tone when I’m serious or vulnerable, increase my excitement about things that I care about. Is that genuine? Idk. Am I explaining myself to the wrong people cause the right ones will hear me? Honestly idfk. But you know when you’re being gaslighted, you know when you’re being “yess” to death, you know when you’re not being heard. And how do you know that....? *drum roll pls* NOT A FUCKING THING CHANGES, THERE IS NO VALIDATION AND THERE IS NO ACCOUNTABILITY OR RESOLUTION. PERIOD.

So I started standing up for myself. Saying things to people in my life that 6 months ago I never would have said cause I cared too much about their response. I send the text, I dial the number, I say what I need to. Of course I choke up and start crying because I can’t stand up for myself without doing that.... that would just be too easy apparently.

Anyway, I’m ranting, but my advice to whoever has the glorious opportunity of reading this shit. Stand up for yourself until you are heard, until things change, or until you get the validation you need to make a decision you’ve been contemplating. No matter what the outcome is, I’m telling you, it feels fucking awesome, so do it.

[all-or-nothing-baby]

Hey delightful Drew @peanutbutterandgrapejelly, nice to officially Tumblr meet you!

Okay, so, you - and anyone else who read/reads my long-ass post - are more than welcome for the share.

Being open about things is kind of a second nature thing with me now, what with suffering with a load of diagnosed mental and physical health problems for most of my life (honestly, it’s like Pokemon with me--gotta catch ‘em all!); living in a kids home in my teens; suffering the loss of my older brother when I was twenty; being hospitalised in a mental health facility five-ish years ago; finally figuring out I was autistic about two years ago and having two autistic children (with a bit of ADHD in the mix for shits'n'giggles); and struggling as a single parent (bringing up kids on your own really is tough as old boots). There is a shit-ton of other things I could fill you in on put this post will be long enough as it is.

Basically, I think I'm trying to longwinded-ly say this: to me, being open and honest about all the crap life throws at us is one of the best ways to educate others, help people feel valid (or at least not alone), and keep yourself sane (ish, if you're me).

Now, don't get me wrong, I know to be open about your sexuality or anything else I've mentioned here, is a risky business--as you never really know what people's reactions will be. And it can sometimes be really rough. Working on building a thick skin is sadly necessary. As Bukowski said:

"It pays to be a tough son of a bitch. The world belongs to the strong.​"

But ANYONE who is going through the grinder with this shit IS strong. ALL OF US ARE STRONG. You, my new friend, are quite obviously strong and brave - just take your wonderful heart-on-your-sleeve succinct (next to my rather primitive-in-comparison) response post - even if you don't always feel it. I'm so frickin proud of you.

I do also want to mention that, although yes, there are sadly a lot of haters and nay-sayers out there, there are also good, understanding people who are damn cool and hella supportive. And I have faith you'll find them some of them.

On the subject of feeling like an outsider or a fraud, I want to agree that whilst they are quite obviously valid feelings that I’ve felt myself at times and heard others talk about plenty, feelings are not actually reality. Reality is ANYONE WHO IS NOT STRAIGHT IS LGBTQAI++++++++++++++++++++++!!!!!!!!!!!! Those who scream and gesticulate that asexuals, for example, are not, in fact, queer, are just opinionated and aggressive. Who the hell are they to decide whether somebody is queer enough to be in the gang?!

I too am really not hung-up on gender. I'm fine being called she for the same reasons as you. But I just feel like... me. Not masculine (although that's how many describe me) or feminine (as some describe me.) Just me.

So, finally, I’m here to say thank you, from the bottom of my big, fat heart for your amazing response and for sharing your own journey down the road so far... and, btw, Drew, it's more than alright--it's fantastic.

P.S. as you can see, word-vomit is actually my jam so no need to ever apologise to me again for rambling (have you seen my bio?! or my # lucy rambles and #rambleon hashtags?!) and you are most welcome, anytime at all, to lexeme-spew all over my dash… All the love.

P.P.S. Did anyone else notice Polly-Jean Harvey got into the photo mix three times?! Not just twice, but thrice! Crafty, sexy fucker.

My Personal Journey to The Land of Pan (But not Neverland. Or wherever that Greek God of The Wild lives.)

I’m Lucy and I used to think I was a Lesbian.

My first kiss was at seven years old, with a girl. When we were alone, we’d kiss and be affectionate and hold hands. After a while, I asked her, “Why do we only do these things when nobody else is around?” and also, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” She answered “No, don’t be stupid. It’s wrong and we shouldn’t be doing it anyway. And I don’t want to do it anymore.”

I was gutted and didn’t understand.

The next four people I kissed were girls. Each of them eventually said similar things.

I still didn’t understand.

What was even more confusing to me was I knew I liked boys too. The first person I’d wanted to kiss was a boy with dark hair that hung in his bluer-than-blue eyes. I was at nursery school (kindergarten). Age, it seemed really wasn’t a thing. I could like boys and girls my own age but also felt attraction to much older people.

So, I thought, what does all this make me? Different? Yes. A freak? Maybe. Except I didn’t really feel like a freak (not for these reasons, at least.) The only thing that actually worried me was my family. I was brought up pretty strict Catholic. I never believed in God but was scared of the things said in the bible - even if I knew it was horseshit - because they believed it. I feared my parents would think I was broken or something. So, I kept schtum.

It was in my teens when I stopped worrying or caring.

Thank (fuck) the UK’S Channel 4 was, from its birth in 1982, a controversial and progressive station. This boon, plus having the advantage of older peers which meant borrowed VHS tapes, alongside my canny ninja abilities (creeping downstairs at the various kids homes I ended up living in), gave me the priceless gift of watching late night movies, such as:

Dog Day Afternoon (1975), My Beautiful Launderette (1985), My Own Private Idaho (1991), Bound (1996), and Sunday, Bloody Sunday (1971).

Even though these films were awesome as somebody who’d experienced same-sex attraction, they still didn’t solve the mystery of Me.

I liked both females and males.

Then, in a magazine, I read about ‘bisexuality’.

FINALLY I had an explanation for why I was the way I was. And not only that, I wasn’t the only one.

So, for the longest time, I thought I was bisexual.

Some of the people I fell for identified with a different gender to the one they were (supposedly, according to everyone else) born with, which I wondered about. To be honest though, by this point, I didn’t really care about semantics. I just knew I was sexually and romantically attracted to anyone who made me feel things.

I told my family as and when it came up. I didn’t ‘come out’ as to me, I didn’t see why I had to. I’d just tell them when I found someone attractive, whatever their sex. Thankfully, they weren’t at all bothered. I’ll be eternally grateful to them for that, seeing as I know some people who’ve been completely ostracised by their own just for who they love.

I’m now thirty-eight. I only heard the term pansexual about five years ago. When I researched it, it was so cool to find out that what I am is a thing.

It was like my whole life I’d been drawing in the sand with a stick. At first, I had no idea what I was drawing. Then, I knew what the image was, but I couldn’t quite finish it; I couldn’t see it all at once–it was too big. The term pansexual was my helicopter. It flew me up above the beach and, for the first time, I could see the whole picture.

I’m attracted to people. I fall for people. That’s it.

This post is a also a thank you. It’s for all the people who came before me; and those who came (and will continue to come) after me, who fought and fight for queer rights. They allowed and allow all of us the privileges we have today. Things are still not where they should be, but they are on their way there. One day, I hope, nobody will have to feel confused. Nobody will be cut out, laughed at or beaten. Nobody will have to come out.

I’m Lucy and I’m pansexual.

(Aaaaaand to those of you who have reached this point, wow. And thank you for coming to my Ted Talk! To show my appreciation of you taking the time to read my queer lifestory [the short version!], here’s an incomplete selection of stars I had the hots for growing up. All the love, from me to you… June 12th 2019.)

[ P R I D E 2 0 1 9 ]

[baddestseahorse]

Can my first post be a rant? Fuck it, it’s kind of a rant.

So here’s the thing... The past year or so, maybe two, I’ve come to learn quite a lot about myself. I suppose many of us feel the same after significant events, tough times, and some reflection. I should add that I have always been learning oodles of things along the way, breakthroughs here and there, but this most recent set of events, it’s significant - but I’ll come to that later. 

The thing about all this learning though? It’s very important what you do with that information. Knowledge is power! I don’t think I’ll ever try to stop learning about myself. I do love to learn other things as well, however this self-discovery of (continuously) figuring out how my brain works, what I need, what tendencies I may have, etc. - it’s all led (and still leading) me to become a better, healthier, and happier human: Keanu Reeves. Just kidding, but I do want to continue to become a better version of myself. That shouldn’t be that hard, right? You’d be surprised. 

My whole life has felt like I’ve been struggling along, trying to keep up, catch up, trying to get by and make it through the day. Not to say I haven’t had happy times in my life, but this shit is tiring. Truly I thought I was just a loser who didn’t try hard enough - that’s what everyone told me so it must be true right? Study more, pay more attention, don’t be so lazy, try harder, eat all your food or your cousin won’t play with you, concentrate more, why can’t you be more like so-and-so? I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m not like so-and-so for a long ass time now, but thanks (and btw, so-and-so ain’t all that great either). 

So fast forward to years of struggling, awkward parent-teacher interviews where they ask me What’s wrong with you??? I’m 11, how the fuck am I supposed to know? Hundreds of late attendances, skipped classes, calling in sick to work (interestingly never called in sick to work for ages until last year), no motivation. Still didn’t figure out how to be like so-and-so, guys. What did I do? I made some awesome friends... turns out they too were struggling. 

Once they opened up, I had come to realise it was more than that. We were not struggling. We were suffering. I was suffering. The whole fucking time. Things started clicking in the back of my mind. Memories came flooding back. The entire time everyone was asking what’s wrong with me and all I could do was give them a shy little “I don’t know.” Or make something up because I had no idea what the hell else to say - I had been suffering from depression and (social) anxiety, and I had no idea. 

But I was a bit more grown, things were working out for the better, I had figured out how to manage things enough to get by, although not the mot healthy way, but hey, it was all self-taught. Besides, it wasn’t that bad, my friends’ mental health and anxiety attacks were far worse, and I made it this far, I had friends and held down some relationships, right? ... right? No big deal.

Hah. Big Deal. 

Fall 2017 I had been promoted (see, I was doing okay!). Sure the job I had been doing was hectic as hell and it was incredibly draining so much so that I didn’t want to speak to people or hear noises or see friends after. But this new job, it’s meant to be better. And it was... to a point. That point was our busy season + our micro-managing director of operations about to sell the business + my mental health. 

If there is any take-away from this, this is #1: DO NOT SACRIFICE YOUR HEALTH AND WELL BEING FOR A JOB THAT WOULD REPLACE YOU IN 2 WEEKS.

No, I didn’t get fired or anything, but I made a stupid sacrifice for downplaying how I felt. I worked such long hours, was overwhelmed, my coworkers were overwhelmed, it’s too late to hire and train anyone new anyway so I suffered, All I thought about was work. I was stressed and anxious 24/7, my entire body was tense and in pain all the time, I was SO tired, I barely saw my friends or family, all I wanted was to be alone for a while, but I couldn’t do that because Did I remember to add this to that file? Oh man this client’s been waiting on this for weeks. Shit did I reply to that email? I need to do that first thing tomorrow. It was constant from the moment I woke up to the moment I eventually fell asleep... if I could sleep. Did I mention I also have insomnia now? This went on for weeks, Christmas break was barely a break. Only getting Christmas day and Boxing Day off, I was barely off - my brain was at work. I don’t even remember how I managed to get anyone gifts. It was horrible. 

Early January, I got a cold, as you do in Canada. But also as you’re far more prone to getting not sleeping, being under stress, and not resting. I couldn’t call in sick, I had to work through it right? Then I’d be letting my coworkers down, they were getting work piled on them too, that’s not fair. So I went to work, and my cold never went away... for weeks. I couldn’t stop coughing and eventually I had some shortness of breath. Then some turned into a lot. A lot turned into I can’t talk for more than a minute or walk down the hall without being winded like I ran a marathon and my heart is beating so hard it’s about to join a marching band. I needed to see my doctor. Still trying to keep up with work, I made an appointment outside of work hours (I managed to not stay late, miracle!). After many back and forths to my doctor’s office, chest x-ray, blood work, even a heart ultrasound. Everything was clear... except my head. I burst into tears in my doctors office. She was always digging deeper, she confirmed what I was experiencing was all anxiety. I tried to cut back at work but it didn’t stop. It made me feel worse about myself. I broke down all the time. Eventually my doctor said enough is enough and I didn’t return to work for 5 weeks. 

At this point I couldn’t do much without thinking my legs were going to give out or I would pass out. So I was forced to do nothing and work was forced to stick it. I had 5 weeks to try to rest and get better. I started reading a book to help me learn about anxiety and and I signed up for some virtual counselling. It was rough, but finally after 3 weeks, I began to feel a little lighter, a little more energy and towards the end of the 4th week I started to feel more like myself and got to enjoy those last few days off. When I had returned, I came back to some major changes, hoping that it was for the better. It wasn’t, the environment was toxic for me and I knew I had to get out. After months and months of applications, I finally got a better job and WOW the difference is surreal.I’m much happier and have a FAR better work/life balance. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I took myself out of there and found a healthier environment. I had gotten so used to feeling so terrible that I thought it was normal. 

 I continued therapy after I returned to work. Although it was expensive, I’m glad I did. A little hint from my therapist helped me learn that I also have ADD. ADD/ADHD gets a bad rap for being over-diagnosed to calm high energy kids down. After lots and lots of reading, it only made more sense. I have ADD.

Do you even know how many more light bulbs turned on, how many things clicked?!?!?!?!? I was blown away. And super super super sad that all this had gone on and no one really tried to help me. Not that anyone owes me anything, but when I was younger, my parents, teachers, etc. Maybe due to ignorance, mental health stigma, maybe because I was smart so I couldn’t have anything really wrong with me, lack of education on how to recognise these things. I’ll be okay. But my heart hurts for those who have no idea why the fuck their lives keep falling apart. The kids who don’t know what’s wrong with them. The kids who know but things, money, people stop them from getting the help/treatment/medication/shoulder that they need. The adults who have so much potential and still have no idea and things just won’t come together and they think it’s all their own fault. For all the assholes who ask why they can’t just get their shit together - they had it together but 49736584275642 things came up and they forgot about it for a while.

It’s really hard fighting your own brain. So yeah, I won’t ever stop trying to learn about myself. I want to work with my brain, be happier, healthier, and an overall better person for myself, and those around me. 

This blog is about it be that journey. I have lots of goals to crush this year and I need to make it happen!

Wish me luck!