#And that my adhd is not just I can't focus

[groggy-acorn96]

So here's my first official post for this blog. Just some simple Bill and Ted headcanons to start the blog off right ^^

BILL & TED HEADCANONS

TED 'THEODORE' LOGAN

Audhd

Gets overwhelmed and overstimulated easily which leads him to becoming nonverbal

It pisses his dad off but Ted doesn't let it bother him too much since he knows he'll always have a safe space with Bill

Has lived his life feeling defeated that he'll never find someone to understand him until he met Bill (I headcanon they met around the start of middle school) and now it's his favorite feeling to have Bill understand him when others can't

When he does go nonverbal he never writes down what he wants to say. He always points and grunts until Bill is able to understand him or just wraps himself up in his favorite blanket of Bill's and turns the lights of to decompress until he's able to speak again

He's a heinous nail biter, and while it's not the best solution Bill had always found himself carrying things like erasers and pen caps for Ted to gnaw on instead

It's also his most most used coping mechanism to tell himself 'Bill understands me, Bill understands me' when he gets weird looks or someone fails to understands him

Seeks a lot of tactile stimulation, loving to touch rough and bumpy surfaces or Bill's curls. Also has a habit of rubbing his face over Bill's clothes like a cat when they hug

BILL S. PRESTON

adhd

When he's working on school work or really anything he needs to focus on that doesn't require two hands to do, he grabs a piece of notebook paper and a pen and draws mindless doodles and swirls with his left hand while he works with his right

Mindless scribbles turn into mandela sort of things which morphed into actual drawings

That's how he found his love for art and picks up an extracurricular art class during school

Has a temper but it takes a while for him to lose it, but the fuse shortens when he gets overstimulated

Hates when he blows up on Ted, immediately pulling him in for a hug and apologizing but the guilt still doesn't go away for a while

Keeps multiple fidgets in his pockets and back pack at all times for both himself and Ted when they get restless

Voila! First post done ^^ could've possibly shaped it up a bit more but again- I'm excited to share hehehe. If you like what you see interact and follow for more duders! :)

[lil-gae-disaster]

My aunt when my disability is disabling me in not a stereotypical way: 😧😠 "Why don't you just [thing I'm limited in because disability]! I also have [disability] and I don't struggle with this at all! You're just a lazy child!"

[deoidesign]

.

[mamawasatesttube]

i do think that despite being the squad's designated nerds, kon and bart struggle to watch lotr together because kon physically CANNOT stop infodumping through any of the movies (and of course they have to watch the extended editions only), but bart's like. you want me to sit in one place and watch one screen for 12 fucking hours. and on top of that you WON'T SHUT UP the ENTIRE TIME? i already can't focus on movies and you TALK THROUGH THE WHOLE THING? im going to fucking bite you--

[daz4i]

shows need to go back to 20 minutes episodes please i don't have the attention for 40 minutes straight let alone a whole hour.

[teplejtrouba]

my psychiatrist confirmed that i am in fact autistic

[mister13eyond]

talking to a friend about getting back into art and i think the #1 most important piece of art advice i could ever get or give is just "figure out what is FUN to you"

like i think there is sooooo much emphasis on how to build SKILL in art but a lot of it really treats art like a job or like video game grinding, like it's this thankless job that you have to work at in order to reach a Threshold and i know it's not EASY to make yourself have fun but like

imo a solid 70% of the reason i create art is because the Act of Drawing is fun to me. it's fun problem-solving and planning and putting down lines and playing with colors and tools. it's fun to depict little scenes in my head or to create outfits or to find ways to fill the canvas. never forget that creating can be fun. sometimes it's hard and sometimes you have to battle through your own blockades to get there but the ultimate goal should always be to ENJOY it, to find what you enjoy doing and then do it forever. improvement will follow enjoyment.

i think especially with all the debate about ML image generation it's more important than ever to embrace FUN. if you're only focused on the end result it's so easy to get in your own head- to think about what doesn't look good or what skills you don't have yet or to compare yourself to other artists. but photography didn't kill the art of drawing and AI won't either because, simply put, there will always be people who want to do the physical act of making art because it's fun to do! using paints and markers, splashing colors around, doing shitty pen doodles, using the symmetry tool in your art program to do abstract mandalas that are just squiggles formed into patterns. do art like you're 5 and you've been handed markers to pass the time. do art like you're bored in class and you're keeping your brain entertained by drawing stick figure comics in the margins. do art like an absent thing, do art because it satisfies your brain. the goal is not to make something beautiful and perfect, the goal is to make something because your hands need to make and your body needs to make.

[tazmiilly]

you know how the need to deep clean your living space comes so rarely with things like ADHD that once it actually hits you you're like "okay i gotta start on that before the timer in my head runs out and I can't even THINK about doing it for another 2 months!!!"

[yume-x-hanabi]

I am definitely back in fandom lmao, I've gotten into three new xillia projects and am fighting hard not to start a fourth

[bugfail]

Lord Hater has ADHD (to me) but y'all aren't ready for that conversation

[noa-de-cajou]

Me : I'm adhd therefore I am disabled

My adhd : *Disables me*

Me :

[tittyinfinity]

My neurodivergencies and mental illnesses overlap so much that you could diagnose me with about anything at this point

[phtalogreenpoison]

me earlier today, swallowing my adhd meds with regular coffee with four sugars: this is fine.

me still five hours later: wtf why do i feel like a hunted animal

[raemoriendi]

time loop horror story

you need a pill that shrinks the world to help you focus on what's important. that helps your brain zoom out enough to finish your to-do list. that lets you remember why you walked into a room. that allows you to functionally be a person.

without it, you sleep regardless of where the sun stands in the sky. you can't touch the dishes in your sink no matter how deep they're piled. every action is cleaved in two or more, a step building upon a step, and all of them suddenly impossibly high to climb.

it takes effort, even, to open your laptop and write this.

you're grateful for the pill. you're grateful that what's wrong with you is fixable, even if it's not a permanent patch.

you are haunted to the point of nausea by the thought of just how many hours, days, months, years you spent in thudding, teeth-grinding frustration. how many beloved stories went unwritten, turning to dust in your hollow skull. how much time you'll never get back to give things an honest try.

but then after a while, you don't even get to take that pill, because you can't afford it every month, even with the "good insurance."

lucky you, they make generics, but --

"they've been discontinued," says the physician's assistant when you call to refill, exactly three days before you run out, as allowed. she sounds almost sympathetic. "ask your pharmacy what they recommend instead."

"no," says the pharmacist, when you call to check on it the day you take your last pill. "we're just out of stock." she sounds bored despite your attempt to be friendly, to not let on the panic dripping into the pit of your stomach. "we'll get them in two days, maybe."

two days without being a full person. can you afford that? you look at your work, your dissertation, your art.

can you keep all of that balanced on your shoulders for two days, as you start to forget they're even there? when the weight of responsibility starts to feel weightless as memory disintegrates? except for when it all comes crashing to the ground?

"no," she repeats flatly, cutting off your question about alternatives. "we're completely out of stock, we don't have any of those."

it's the tone on the last word that causes the panic in your gut to start to pool.

there are people who hate people like you. who think that you don't want to be a person at all, that you're just making up how stupidly hard everything to cover your ass. that you love taking the patch pills more than you love finishing a project, more than you love finishing a thought, more than you love feeling like there is a through-line to your very being. that think you just don't want to remember where you were going, where you put your keys, whether or not you fed the little creature that depends on you for its every need.

that you enjoy being a mess who can't keep track of time or anything that matters.

if she hears the catch in your breath, she ignores it. "this other pharmacy has them," she goes on. "ask your doctor to transfer the prescription to there."

so you do, as soon as you get off the phone. maybe you can get ahead of this. maybe you can keep your train of thought from fragmenting.

but the doctor doesn't respond until after the pharmacy is closed, and you know you'll have at least one day without your mind.

okay. you can afford one day. one day is a blip, right? you've dealt with worse.

you sleep well after you want to, feeling rootless in time and space and any awareness of their movements, but you wake up to go pick up your pills --

and find a message the other pharmacy can't fill the prescription, because it's waiting on the first pharmacy to release it to them.

the first pharmacy claims they can't release it because of the way the doctor wrote it, despite not having the pills in stock.

you summon the energy to climb the mental stairs to write to your doctor again. you try not to sound too desperate as you ask them to write it one more time, trying to sound like the mistake is even funny.

the doctor does so, still cheerful, still agreeable, and you're relieved. crisis averted, you think. you'll have your brain back by this afternoon

-- until you gather your wits to call the second pharmacy about pick up time, again, only to learn your doctor has mistakenly sent it to the first pharmacy. again.

even funnier! the first pharmacy has the pills after all! hilarious, right? it doesn't at all feel like the person who was cold to you on the phone just didn't want to bother to check, right?

you call the first pharmacy back to ask when your medicine will be ready, and a different person tells you your doctor wrote the prescription so it can't be filled until the end of the month.

funniest still: you're the one with the disease that supposedly makes you careless, makes you forgetful, prone to haphazardly rush important things without double-checking them.

so you write to your doctor a third time, trying to sound almost apologetic, asking her to write a last new one so you can please, please stay awake and do what you need to do. so over the course of a month, you don't lose the job you just got.

you get a terse message from another PA: "so you need it sent back to the first pharmacy?"

you can hear the irritation dripping off the question even though you're only reading it.

you want to scream. this is not your fault.

you are not the who didn't check the inventory, writing off a sick person's inquiry as something unworthy of help or consideration.

you are not the one who's sent a prescription with the wrong information twice. if you were wrong about something so critical twice at your job, you'd have been fired by now.

you plead your case, trying everything you know how to keep her on your side. explain that the pharmacist was wrong. say that you're sorry for the inconvenience, even though you weren't the one who either wrote it wrong or processed it wrong, multiple times over only twenty-four hours.

two hours later, and perilously close to the pharmacy's closing time, the PA finally writes back: "the doctor has sent it again. please follow up with the pharmacy."

as if you haven't been calling them every two hours like clockwork.

you call the pharmacy immediately. it hasn't shown up in their system.

"it can take up to fifteen minutes," a different girl explains, this one at least somewhat sympathetic

you call an hour before closing time.

"no, still nothing," she says, luckily still not also annoyed with you.

you call thirty minutes before closing time.

"no, sorry," she says, and she at least has the grace to sound apologetic. "I know this must be really frustrating."

you force your voice not to crack and ask if they'll have it ready in the morning.

"if we get it," she says. "but it might be out of stock, depending."

[frostwing213]

I will get randomly obsessed with a certain piece of media for a couple days before utterly forgetting about it until something reminds me of it again and I go back to loving it.

(I have watched Heathers the musical, watched the 1988 film, and have been listening to the music on spotify ALL day. All because my friend mentioned liking one song.)

[sysig]

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