#and yes i am aware these are all symptoms of ocd and that i need a therapist we just can't find one atm 👍

[lighthouseas]

i need to start getting off tumblr more and going outside (not right now though it's raining) this shit is starting to flare up my anxiety

[magnoliamyrrh]

i find the whole conversation around self-dxing to be interesting too because while self-dxing can indeed be dangerous and bad, on the other hand i am also quite anti-psychiatry, if youve got something youve obviously got it without a diagnosis, and getting a diagnosis can be hard af

like idk i think way too many ppl push this "go get therapy go get professional help and evaluation!!!" thing all the time. as if many therapists and psychs arent stupid af, as if they cant be wrong, as if they cant further traumatize someone, as if they can't be smart and kind ppl but Still get things wrong. and as if the entire psych system for the most part isnt fucked in manyyy ways...... like... yea, if you can and find a good one go i guess depending on circumstance... but you better take everything they say with a grain of salt too, wtf

.... yes teenagers and in general young ppl self diagnoing themselves with 2000 things is harmful. they may be doing it either for attention, because its cool and trendy, bc theyve actually got histrionic or mauchausens, bc theyre pathologizing normal human reactions, or bc theyve not done enough actual research and went off of articles which explain things in such a way that frankly most humans would relate. or they may confuse disorders among each other, or they may not be pragmatic enough abt it. yes this is a huge issue. weve got 20000 teenagers and young adults and even some adults running around saying theyve got turrets or did or autism or bpd or ocd or whatever the hell is trendy. psych wards for symptoms and conditions (which are themselves often imperfect) have been watered down to an extreme and are thrown around. therapy talk is being used to make excuses for behavior which should not be excused

...... at the same time. yea self diagnosis isnt inherently harmful all the time. the ppl who say otherwise and are 2000% certain only docs can tell u shit arent skeptical enough of docs. with some things its obvious. i didnt need any doctor to tell me i had anorexia nervosa or bulimia lmaoooo that shit was obvious and clear as day. i didnt need to be told i had bpd, i caught on at a young age i had it, and bc i neither could go to therapy nor wanted to, i spend years understanding that disorder on every which side and way and recovering from it myself. it saved my life. i dont even wanna know how bad things would have been if i didnt accept i had that and understood it - and yea, i didnt need no doctor to tell me to know. and low and behold, docs agree i used to have bpd, still hsve some symptoms, but have mostly recovered from it. funnily enough i caught onto having some sort of osdd/did years ago, than denied it completely to myself for years, than i couldnt ignore it and deny it anymore. ended up getting a diagnosis for that too. :/ i figured i had adhd for years on end but docs either thought it was something else or i wouldn't bring it up much. low and behold i have a diagnosis and the high doses of adhd meds i can handle without feeling st all "drugged out" are proof that i do actually have adhd

if anything lmaoo i have personal experience with having a crazy psych. a woman who mistook cptsd&osdd/did for bipolar disorder, gave me drugs literally illegally which ate at my body and told me not to tell anyone, and also yelled at me that i was crazy. had a therapist who thinks being molested makes ppl homosexual and that step-parent sexual attraction is normal on some level.....;;;; like;;;;;;..... yea. the psychs and therapists arent some sort of final say people. they can be crazy and they can be wrong

and the idea that Inherently someone with bpd, or did/osdd or whatever else Cant Know of their disorder before being told (tho the latter was actually suggested to me many yrs ago by someone) is just. wrong and harmful frankly. yea in some cases pls dont know, or theyre in extreme denial (like with anorexia). but not with all. not with all. 👀 my psychs found it surprising how self aware i was, impressive, but they did not think this was some sort of disqualification

idk. yea. like. theres definetely issues around self-dex especially in the hell were living today but acting like its Always Inherently Bad and Will Never Help and docs are some sort of authority who are the only ones with some say... ,,,, yeaaaa. no. that's also dangerous

[thegayneurodivergentagenda]

pran autism anon here!!! hi friend!!

so i was working on a fic today and i started wondering about pran and his diagnoses. obviously, as of our skyy, his ocd is diagnosed. i figured his autism could also have been diagnosed at the same time, but since him being autistic isn't canon, we will never know. there's also a possibility of him being diagnosed with autism as a kid (in my fic, this is what happened and the reason he got his ocd diagnosis in his 20s is because he and the people around him kept attributing a lot of his ocd symptoms to autism), but a lot of his behaviours and his tendency to mask lead me to believe that he grew up undiagnosed and learnt all these masking methods as a defence mechanism. yes i spent my sociology class today thinking about pran and how likely he would be to have a professional autism diagnosis in my totally canon version of bad buddy which is basically exactly bad buddy but pran is canonically autistic and aware of the fact. as i was writing this i also realised it's entirely possible that he is autistic and just doesn't know it yet. so yeah i was wondering what your opinions on this were? if you've ever thought about it.

sorry if none of this made any sense i am tired rn

I wrote an answer to this but tumblr glitched and deleted all of taking away my entire dopamine spike with it.

But I'm here again, more prepared than ever to write my thesis: Pran probably was unaware of his autism, majorly due to his relationship with his mother and Pat.

The premise of my thesis is rooted in the ways high functioning autistic traits manifest in Pran have always been rewarded and/or neglected because of his relationship with both Pat and Dissaya.

Symptom: Executive Dysfuntion , ie, the inability to plan, monitor, prioritize, make decisions etc.

The Executive Dysfuntion that would otherwise render most neurodivergents paralysed for an amount of time they can not perceive, does little to influence both Pat and Pran. They are being run by the mutual dopamine release of having to compete. Having an external source of pressure/deadline/competition provides just enough dopamine to make both task initiation and cessation easier.

Thus, more often that not, Pran wouldn't be experiencing the executive dysfuntion in presence of Pat and vise versa.

This does bring up the valid tangent of Pran's dysfuntion being visible when he gets transfered. For that, I do believe, mixed with the stress of having to transfer, the anger and hurt of leaving his entire life, the feeling of unfairness triggering his RSD and the need to have to mask for new people would provide enough context for him to attribute the dysfunction to THAT rather than autism.

Specifically with dissaya, the inability to do anything would probably have been met by "you should try again" or "did the neighbour's kid get it?". Would there have been many instances where Pran let dissaya know that he's unable to work? No. Would there have been some instances instances? Yes. Would they have instilled a sense of shame for his inability? Yes, more than what neurotypicals feel for the same inability.

Symptom: "incompetent" social skills (I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT DSM 5 JUST TALKS ABOUT INCOMPETENCE BECAUSE ITS WRITTEN BY NEUROTYPICALS WHO THINK THAT LYING TO PEOPLE'S FACES IS CRUCIAL FOR THE CAPITALIST HELLSPACE TO THRIVE I HATE IT SM)

When it comes to Pran, when we first meet him, he's shown to be interacting with his group of friends, he has a very nice conversation with his family and he is the class president for fucks sake. How can he be incompetent amirite???

First of all, he isn't. No one with autism is incompetent. They just have a different dialect.

Second of all, the rules to social interactions and communication is something people with autism learn after being reprimanded for their dialect, which as Anon pointed out previously, leads to a lot of masking.

The crux of masking as a concept comes to this: lying to save yourself.

Pat and Pran learnt early on, beyond their neurodivergence, that they need to lie and manipulate their presentations to save themselves from their families. Their interactions were always ladden with the awareness of the careful line they danced around; of lies and safety alike.

What takes years for us to understand, Pran speedran through. He spent a lot of his time energy trying to find ways to communicate with Pat without getting caught or hurt. And because they both wrote their own rulebook, learning other dialects became easy.

Long story short, given that they lied so much to sustain a friendship they both wanted, their ability to mask was never seen as a burden. It's just another lie. Very little emotional toll because their narrative around it is part of the larger struggle: their family. NOT autism.

Dissaya and her husband played a huge role in setting the rules for Pran, but even more so, they probably rewarded him for being poised and better than Pat (and the entire ming clan) at being respectful and correct in his speech. Regardless of his own inability to understand and the complex layers of his interactions with Pat, Dissaya taught very stern rules he needed to follow.

His and Dissaya's relationship taught him the needed communication rules to mask effectively, his and Pat's relationship taught him to navigate the guilt and dissonance that comes from masking and lying around social situations.

(Idk if I was coherent enough to explain this but I really hope my point go across)

Lastly, the question that arises then, is do we even believe Pran had autism if he doesn't struggle with the major two symptom?

The short answer: yes.

The long answer:

Struggle is not a contingency for you to qualify for a disability. Struggle may be visible or invisible. The costs of a disability may be visible or invisible.

He also had the privilege of having a neurodivergent best friend/enemy from the day he was born. And the clearly defined social language tutor of a mother.

That being said, it's not that he did not struggle, rather that he was able to build his world to minimize the costs and struggle.

The reason I so throughly believe in Pran’s Autism is because of the ways his everyday life (and P'Aof) shows the invisible struggle.

His hyperfixation with the smilies that he's used to understand and deal with emotions (symptom: emotional dysregulation, hyperfixation). His rigidity to his mechanisms (symptoms: routines and rituals). His inability to prioritize smaller decisions like going to save wai over his pens being set correctly (symptom: Executive Dysfuntion). His self rejection around being a burden and hyperindependance (symptom: RSD, Shame). His inability to let go of something that hurt him deeply, seemingly little to everyone else but a core issue for him in OURSKY2 when Pat jokes about Pran needing him.

Most importantly, he embodied Internalized ablism, one of the worst consequence of high functioning mental illness/conditions. Because we're able to be productive (barely) according to neurotypical standards it's second nature to fool yourself into thinking your disability doesn't even exist (@honeysachet bb).

But it's every single time Pran tells himself he should just take one more workload and it'll be okay. Sound with stage props and dating the actor in secret? Surely that would not be too much ??? The way he chose to take up an entire shifting of house because he felt so fucking guilty about causing Pat inconvenience (I can manage an entire transfer again whatever do you mean?) The way he visibly deflects in front of his parents mentioning not to date Pat (or Paa).

It's the little ways in which he struggles, the otherwise cracks in his perfect picture that he learns to embrace later. But not until his after his OCD diagnosis.

Conclusion: Pran was protected from the worst of his autism's consequences because of his relationship with Pat. Pran internalized a lot of his disability and consequent abelism because of his relationship with his mother. His struggle with his autism was hidden but it still existed, inextricably linked from the epic highs and lows of his life.

[allthislove]

There's merit in self diagnosis (especially for people without access to good Healthcare/mental Healthcare and because of stigma that can come with formal diagnosis), but TikTok has literally everyone convinced that they're neurodivergent because of behaviors that are typical. There's a reason why diagnosis has thresholds. Like, a lot of people are bothered by certain sounds or smells or whatever, but what makes it a sensory issue is when it's chronically disruptive or you need special ways to cope with how the sensation effects you. People will hear "sensory issue" and be like "omg when I was 5 I couldn't stand the way the glue felt on my fingers in class!" Yeah, that could be a sign of autism, or you... just didn't like the way the glue felt.

Neurotypical doesn't mean "automaton with no variance from the other automatons". People have different things that they like, that bother them, that they don't understand and do understand, that they are averse to. And yes, that can make diagnosis difficult, but that's why there are diagnostic thresholds.

Just like being afraid isn't the same as having an anxiety disorder.

Just like being sad isn't the same as having clinical depression.

Maybe you just didn't like peas. Maybe you just bounce your leg when you're bored. It doesn't necessarily mean you're autistic or ADHD or both. It can help you recognize that you might be neurodivergent in some way, but these are not diagnostic. They're just quirks, and anyone can have them.

Neurotypical doesn't mean you are a cookie cutter person with the exact same temperament as all the other neurotypical people. I see far too many TikToks like "Omg I liked to color code my crayons when I was a kid! I was so (insert diagnosis)". A lot of kids color code. You spend a lot of time in elementary school and daycare/preschool learning about colors and sorting. Those are developmentally typical things to do. That's why schools aren't just calling every kid who hums and daydreams ADHD. It's developmentally normal for children. It's why schools don't call every kid who is afraid of loud noises autistic. It's developmentally typical for young kids to be afraid of loud noises.

Further, not everything about a neurodivergent person is because they're neurodivergent. Their neurdivergence might affect the way they communicate or how they react or something, but they are still people. Just like there's a difference between a true concern (I am worried that my son has diarrhea today) and an irrational anxiety (I am worried that my itchy arm is really skin cancer, though there's no evidence and low risk.) Neurodivergent people can just like things or not like things or do things. Just because an ND person does something, doesn't mean everyone who also does that thing is ND.

I say this as a person with a lot of diagnoses. Self diagnosis can be very helpful. I knew I was OCD before anyone told me professionally. I knew I had PTSD before my therapist confirmed it. But you also have to recognize when symptoms overlap and they don't apply to you. OCD makes me feel paranoid, and schizophrenia also makes people paranoid sometimes, but my symptoms don't align with schizophrenia because my worries aren't based in delusion and I don't experience psychosis. (Although I'm aware that some anxiety disorders and depressive disorders can coincide with psychosis and mania, but these aren't things I experience.)

Also be mindful that social media makes neurodivergence and mental illness seem trendy and cute. I remember when it was popular on this sight to claim everything was an anxiety disorder. Self diagnosis can be helpful, but be mindful that it's not always accurate.

[faustandfurious]

Is it weird to say it seems like the "identity" marketing techniques are especially dangerous to neurodivergent people (I can only speak from the perspective of ADHD/autism/OCD/BPD, other people like schizo-spec people may feel differently)?

It's just, especially in my personal experience identity is so both transient and ... I can't think of the word but vague I guess? Like I don't have a strong grasp on my personal identity so I cling to stuff I can use to define it. It's why I like microlabels so much, because they pin down bits of the butterfly swarm in my head neatly to a corkboard (though that's an imperfect analogy because labeling aspects of myself doesn't hurt me or those parts of me). Saying "I'm nonbinary, pangender, genderfluid, with xenogenders" sounds to a lot of people like label collecting, but to me it's just making my personal self more concrete. That's leaving aside the fact that due to mirroring I often feel like a metaphorical chameleon.

It's why I try at least to be careful about more material identities. I don't always succeed (I collect Rainbow High dolls and not being able to do that permanently would be really hard) but if I can say "I like x piece/series of media, that's who I am RIGHT NOW, but I can let go of that at any point if this thing becomes unhealthy" then I've noticed it creates some distance between my core identity and the "stuff I like" outer ring which ... yeah idk my point kinda got lost here in between "I do like identifying by some of these things still but I'm careful about it" and "I worry that as a neurodivergent person I'm especially susceptible but that doesn't change that desire. Sorry X')

Yes, this is an excellent point. Not sure if the BPD you mention is borderline personality disorder or bipolar disorder (I've seen it used for both, though technically it should only be used for borderline to avoid confusion), but if it's borderline, then experiencing instability in your identity/sense of self is one of the core symptoms, and as you describe, external identity markers can help when it comes to coping with the confusion around who you really are.

Bipolar disorder may also come with shifts in perceived identity correlating with depressive or (hypo)manic episodes, and then there is the added component of the (hypo)mania induced need to start new projects or re-invent yourself, and the lowered threshold for uncritical spending of large amounts of money.

ADHD and autism may indeed leave you susceptible to marketing that targets your current hyperfixation or one of your special interests.

That being said, a lot of the people I've seen buy into these lifestyle/identity marketing gimmicks are also (as far as I know) pretty darn neurotypical. The thing with having a diagnosed mental illness or neurodivergence is that it might even make you extra aware of your own susceptibility to these things, since you're perhaps already in the habit of distrusting your knee-jerk reactions and cognitive biases. For some people, neurodivergence comes with a side of nonconformism, which may either make you more resistant to conforming to some marketed identity, or make you more susceptible to subculture/counterculture identity marketing.

So really it can go both ways, and for everyone, neurodivergent or otherwise, the important thing is to take a step back every now and then and question their own assumptions, biases and actions. We are all, to some extent, products of external factors, our environments, our interests. The core identity is a work in progress, it's something you develop through lived experience and in interaction with others. And it's alright to hyperfixate, alright to focus on the things that really interest you. Just remember to question whether your purchases are motivated by genuine interest or need, or by some industry or corporation trying to sell you a particular lifestyle.

[bread-tab]

an antidote to social anxiety

or: i ramble at length about my thoughts on my own debilitating social anxiety and how i'm genuinely starting to get over it through one weird trick™ you can try at home.

i'm in this ongoing process of making myself remember that people are people. it's easiest with strangers on the street, harder with my family and friends, harder still with people on the internet, and most difficult of all with myself.

what does that mean? does it mean this is all a game to me, that i read your posts every day and judge you like a fictional character, that i don't care about anyone's feelings?

no.

what it means is that i'm autistic and have social anxiety, adhd, trauma, leftover identity issues from being trans, and a lot of ocd and dissociative tendencies—things that add up together into my mind being a dark, funky little place that i don't feel entirely at home in. there's probably varying levels of depersonalization involved, i don't know enough about that particular symptom to say. (something i should really probably look into more.)

anyway, what i'm trying to get at here is like, the cognitive side of all that. how it affects my thinking about people. how i relate to both others and myself. i've developed detachment as a defense mechanism.

i care immensely about people. maybe too much. i take things too seriously, i struggle to tell whether people are joking, and i'm way too anxious about every interpersonal thing ever. and that's just too much to process while i'm actively in a social situation. so, i push it to the side. i mask it. with the side effect of my mind going blank, and having trouble reacting emotionally to anything. someone tells me bad news? oh dear, i'm vaguely worried. someone tells me good news? oh nice, i'm vaguely worried. but i'm aware that that's an inappropriate response, so i fake an appropriate one—but i fake it as honestly as i can. i take a split second to go into the best social-analysis-genius mode i can muster and ask myself (without so many words, it's more of a feeling), how would i react to this if i wasn't incredibly anxious/feeling like i'm faking being a real person? and i can usually figure that out, and channel it, and it's almost as good as the real thing. almost.

(but hey, optimistically...maybe this is one of those fake-it-'til-you-make-it things. maybe i'm genuinely training myself out of having anxiety and back into having authentic reactions.)

and this works okay as a coping mechanism. it doesn't actually fix the anxiety, but it allows me to actually interact with people sometimes without spontaneously combusting in sheer terror.

thing is, that anxiety is still there, underneath. it's got deep roots. that anxiety warps how i perceive people. it warps my sense of self. and sometimes, when i'm really tired or really depressed...it gets out. it contaminates the mask. i find myself acting snarky, cynical, flippant, sometimes even genuinely mean.

and then i come back to myself, in the moment or after a good long sleep, and i go, that's not me. that's not who i really am. why did i do that? it's mortifying.

and that shame just reinforces the entire social anxiety cycle. fear myself, fear others, mask/put up walls, get tired, slip up, and worsen the fear. i'm not actually a bad person. but treating myself as if i was makes me a worse person than i would be if i could just somehow let all this anxiety go and be real with people. if i could forgive myself for being human.

so as to how this internal struggle relates to how i see other people... it messes with my empathy.

because like, that whole golden rule thing, "treat others the way you would want to be treated"? yeah, that doesn't work for me. i still try it as a thought exercise sometimes because i'm desperate. and it goes like... "how would you like to be told bad news?" either dump all the details on me right now (yes, trauma-dump, i need to know) or fuck off and deal with it yourself. don't ask me for help, i have my own issues, i don't have energy for you. "how would you like someone to comfort you if your pet died?" i wouldn't. i'd be too busy blaming myself and stewing in self-hatred. hit me up if you're an honest-to-god actual necromancer, otherwise leave me alone.

and uh, that's not who most people are! that's not even who i actually am! that's the full fermented toxicity of my social anxiety laid bare. because that thought experiment means i have to imagine being in a situation that would make me anxious and my response would involve imagining what i would want if i wasn't in that situation and that's where the whole thing breaks down because that's just too goddamn much for me to imagine at once. so i seem to get stuck on the anxiety, and damn, anxiety-brain is just in full fight-or-flight "leave me the fuck alone or else" mode.

so hey, it's very easy for me to empathize with people who are panicking! that's a plus.

the obvious answer to this little conundrum seems to be just...try that little thought experiment again but imagine not being anxious in the first place. and like...jeez, i wish i knew how to do that. i'm working on developing the emotional intelligence skills to be able to do that. i'm just really not there yet. i'm continually surprised by positive emotions, in other people and myself.

surprised and relieved. like, that person over there is feeling cheerful! thank god, jesus christ, i forgot everyone isn't severely depressed. wow, this thing inspires me with childish wonder! holy shit that's a real emotion? oh hey, me and the person i'm talking to right now are both calm and confident. sweet motherfucking pancakes batman i thought this only happened in movies!

so like...to bring this back to my original point... it's hard for me to realistically predict how people will react to things. up to and including myself. when i was a kid, i had really low/delayed empathy, maybe even impaired theory of mind, if that's a valid way to put it. (something i've struggled to convince my therapist of, because now i'm like this.) and as a teenager i realized i'd gotten fucked up somewhere in my development, and i care, so i got anxiety. so i try to think through it and i end up with either hardcore sherlock-holmes-style analysis or just panic that forces me to give up and distract myself. and the point is, i've ended up with a really screwed up twisted way of perceiving people.

and yet. miraculously. i've found a loophole.

i've somehow learned to sidestep the entire monstrous mechanism of my anxiety.

the frustrating thing is i don't really have the words to describe it.

it kind of feels like i've hacked the matrix.

it's like...

it's like i can put so much analytical energy into the social mask where everything is real pretending to be fake pretending to be real that i can just break through and come out the other side. like wait. everything is fake. so i'm free. so i can just be real.

and that just sounds like i'm saying, "hey, i figured out how to turn off my anxiety."

which is so wrong! i didn't! i'm actually still terrified. and i can't explain the reality of this breakthrough without all these miles and miles of background details because it just sounds obvious and/or fake.

reality is made up actually, so just do whatever.

your fears aren't reality. that's all in your head.

...well, i live in my head. i've had to get to this point the hard way. i'm glad some of y'all start out here and don't have to figure all this out for yourselves (seriously, not /s, i'm glad not everyone has to go through this)...but i've been down a different path.

so what does it mean, that "people are people"? that i have to remind myself of this, and that the reminder eases my anxiety?

i think it means i've developed a completely new concept of what a person is. what it means to be human.

and at the same time, that old anxiety-driven perception is still there, my social anxiety still gets triggered on a daily basis. and what i'm trying to do is notice that i'm using that old concept of "person." i'm trying to switch to the new concept. and that completely reframes the entire situation.

i can't encapsulate the old concept in a single word. it's the unsociable hipsterly refrain, "i hate people." it's person (derogatory), person (threat), person (predator). it's the competitive, hierarchical instinct...people are either ideals on pedestals or demons who have fallen from said heights. people is the generic popular kid from tv who will inevitably bully you for no reason, the sitcom studio audience who will laugh at the expense of everything you say. people is the eldritch, unknowable other, the alien intelligence that can outsmart you while remaining inherently unpredictable. it's barely even a concept of its own, really; it's a trigger, a vaguely person-shaped (friend-shaped?) sensory appendage attached to the network of anxiety nerves in my brain.

so i'm rewiring. i'm just going "fuck that, 'person' now means this other thing." it's infuriating how simple that sounds when i've put years of blood sweat and tears (aka, therapy) into getting myself to the point where it can happen.

and i don't want to understate that effort but... it is simple. if you're reading this and you have social anxiety and autism yourself, i want you to know it gets simpler. it gets easier to understand. you have to figure out how to get yourself there, and that's really hard, that's the struggle. but it's a solvable problem. it's possible.

and my new concept? i can't sum that up in one word either. it's humans. person (affectionate). my people. clever little creatures, like if you mixed a raven with a racoon and made it really tall and good at throwing things. warm beings that are so incredibly loving and loyal. but that makes it sound like i'm sanitizing humanity, making up a fake palatable version, and i'm not.

i'm constructing the concept of 'human' from new foundations, and i'm not leaving anything out. i'm building this concept in a hundred different ways, from so many starting points of different concepts that already make sense to me.

one starting point: babies. because i love babies and my social anxiety just doesn't apply to them. a baby can't hurt me. it's a baby. but a baby is also a person. a baby has every human need, and they'll let you know it with unbearable screaming because they don't know any other way to communicate. a baby is incredibly smart and focuses all of its energy on transforming into an adult, which is generally highly effective. babies are scarily competent. but they're also just...baby. small, soft, adorable. just literally baby.

and i can look at literally anyone, even the people who scare me the most, who in reality resemble person (old definition, threat, predator) more than they do person (new definition, literally just a little creature)—i can look at that person and go, dude, that was a baby once. i can look at a politician who could ruin my life with one stroke of a pen and mentally say, "that's a two-year-old with a gun." which is still a terrifying and heartbreaking scenario, but it's an effective reframe. it completely changes my role in the situation. it doesn't make me any less wary, it doesn't invalidate my sense that there's a real threat, but it changes the threat into something knowable and i can allow myself to be calm.

don't get me wrong, i'm not in the habit of infantalizing people. "baby" is just one ingredient out of many in the reconceptualization i'm using as an antidote to my anxiety. it's a variation on the old cliche, "imagine everyone in their underwear." just another reminder that underneath our serious, intimidating exteriors, humans in general are silly.

and i don't usually bother going that deep into a metaphor, in my daily life. i don't need to. all i need to do is remember to invoke the new concept instead of the old one.

with that one shortcut, i remember everything:

people are just little creatures

people are cool and amazing

people were babies once

people are just doing their best

people are silly

people are sweet

people are knowable

people are okay

i'm a person and i'm okay

we're okay

...and boom, i'm out of the matrix. phew. alright. i can handle this. i can take down the unnecessary defenses. we will not be needing the rocket launchers today. and suddenly even the darn the golden rule works, because what people (new concept) want isn't so complicated after all, and i'm no exception. i just want to be treated as a person (affectionate), not a person (derogatory).

so, daily reminder: people (old concept) are actually just people (new concept). people are people.

[spectrumed]

3. sadness

Don’t be like that. Be like this, or be that other thing. Be unique, but don’t be too unique. Fit in, but try to be a rebel. Be a renegade, but don’t rock the boat. Don’t know what you are supposed to be? What? Do you have imposter syndrome or something? Just be yourself, but, y’know, sand down the edges a little bit. Be friendlier. Be the kind of person everyone likes. Be the life of the party! Don’t be some shut-in, some crazy cat-lady with absolutely zero social life. Don’t be sad. Don’t burden others with your sadness. Work to maximise the total happiness of your community. A smile goes a long way. Can’t smile? You really can’t help but being a sourpuss all the time? Well, I guess maybe that if you can’t help but stay in a perpetual bad mood bringing everyone else down… then maybe you should just stay isolated? Better stay alone, away from others. You’re toxic. You’re just so damned sad. You really must be quarantined.

I am sad, a lot of the time. Are you? But, no, you can’t just admit that you are sad. Don’t be a buzzkill, try to inject a little humour into the things you say. You can admit you’re depressed, if you do so with a joke. Don’t let others know you’re being sincere. Ironic jokes work the best, don’t they? They let you confess your secret gloom to everyone around, but they’ll never know just how serious you’re being. With a wink of the eye, any candid expression of your inner turmoil can become a hilarious post-modern gag. Are they or are they not telling the truth? Oh, I’ll never tell! And it will all work out excellent, up until the day you commit suicide. But every comedian’s time in the limelight has to end at some point, right?

This blog is supposed to be about autism spectrum disorder, why am I suddenly discussing depression? Well, I suppose that it is time we bring to the table this little thing called comorbidity. Psychology is messy. Some would argue that it is barely even a real scientific field (I tend to think that it is the best thing we have, but I acknowledge that in places, psychology is fundamentally flawed.) You may have thought that you’d get just one diagnosis. One simple label that you can work through and overcome. You’re bipolar, now go deal with it! But instead, you find yourself with a whole fistful of diagnoses. What to hear my proud list of diagnoses? Oh, please, don’t think because I am listing them this one certain way, I put them in order of relevancy to me. I love all of my diagnoses equally.

My diagnoses are:

Generalised Anxiety Disorder (GAD)

Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD)

Agoraphobia

Possible Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD)

Asperger syndrome (AS)

No, I was never officially diagnosed with depression, but largely because, at the time I received these diagnoses, my depression was so blatant that it felt as if I was walking around with a cloud of miasma surrounding at all times. Imagine me as Pig-Pen from Peanuts, but instead of being covered in dirt, I was covered in the funk of melancholy. And whatever treatment I would eventually go on to receive (and still am receiving to this day,) would go about treating my anxiety first, and hopefully, the depression would give in alongside the anxiety. It has, for the most part, though, I still feel the presence of that black dog from time to time. I also got only a half-hearted potential diagnosis of OCD, but later, during a trial of an antidepressant that had a freakishly negative impact on my psyche, it blossomed into a fully-grown attention-craving condition. Turns out that OCD can be a real hog for the spotlight, really not allowing any of the other diagnoses to take their turn on stage. Thankfully, when I got off that particular antidepressant, those symptoms stopped, but it has led me to be far more aware of my internal obsessive-compulsive thought patterns. For me, OCD largely lacks physical compulsions, but my mind is ablaze with intrusive thoughts, and I will routinely force myself to repeat certain phrases in my head to make them go away. The funny thing is, I never realised that wasn’t normal.

Diagnoses are an attempt to map out a spiders’ web of problems. Things come hand in hand. While I’m no psychologist, I can speak from the perspective of someone who has been through the psychiatric process, which I suppose, lends me a certain kind of expertise, doesn’t it? Maybe it really doesn’t. Maybe I’m just throwing words out there, thinking that I could serve a good purpose, but instead all I am doing is contributing to this great onslaught of digital disinformation we’re all suffering under. But I’m probably just too doubtful of myself. I am speaking about myself, after all. I’ve got first-hand experience in being myself. I know exactly what it feels like to own this skin, these bones, this heart, and this mushy brain of mine. I’m not claiming to know everything. I’m just claiming to know about this one sad individual writing this hoping it might allow someone to reblog my posts with the hashtag “relatable” one day.

Anxiety runs in my family. The neurosis demon gets passed down from generation to generation, only occasionally skipping a beat. My mother and I share many of the same neurotic quirks, though, she has for the most part of her life not had it to quite the excessive degree that I have it. I really took that genetic predisposition for anxiety and ran with it. And while I’m the only person in my family to have gotten diagnosed as being “on the spectrum,” there are a few members that I kinda sort of in a way actually quite seriously suspect might also be here somewhere on the spectrum. Still, as always goes with diagnosing, there’s no point in doing it unless the person is in need of some kind of treatment. I wholeheartedly believe that most people on the planet belong to one spectrum, be it an autism spectrum, a bipolar spectrum, a narcissism spectrum, even a schizophrenic spectrum, but diagnoses should be exclusively reserved for those who need psychiatric care. The world is a spectrum, and it’s worth noting that the terms “sane” and “insane” do not alone capture the complexity of the human psyche. A person can appear perfectly sensible, yet at some point in their life, they may have been a real silly little bugger who thought that their pet hamster was the reincarnation of the Buddha. Just as with physical health, one can struggle with one's mental health for one period in their life, only to later on in life feel utterly and entirely mentally healthy. Or, well, sadly in a lot of cases, people who were perfectly mentally healthy may suddenly become diagnosed with dementia. But that’s really sad, so let’s not talk about that.

Is it all genetic? Well, no. Or well, maybe? In regards to autism, I am pretty sure that, yes, it is genetic. While, yes, I do admit that I’m just a dummy on the internet, so what do I really know? And the brain is such a complex bit of mushy meat, so I could always be proven wrong. Though, I tend towards thinking that there most likely is principally a genetic factor to conditions like autism, or attention deficit disorder (and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder,) or things like bipolar disorder. But with anxiety, quite frankly, I can’t say how much of it is nurture and how much of it is nature. I mentioned that my mother and I share many of the same neurotic quirks, so that would imply that there is something in one's genes that can make some more prone to anxiety than others, but my mother does not struggle with agoraphobia, nor does she seem to have any obsessive-compulsive tendencies. In fact, in my family, even those that exhibit some element of heightened anxiety, they don’t seem to show any milder symptoms of this kind. I can’t help but feel as if these conditions I gained through that tortuous period of every boy’s and girl’s (and boy-girl’s) life is called puberty. I hate to conform to stereotypes but I did indeed hate being a teenager. Believe it or not, I wasn’t a jock, and no, I didn’t go to parties. I mostly spent my time crying.

The question that no doubt plagues every movie psychiatrist to no end is what kind of trauma must a person undergo to make them go mad? Abusive parents? Abusive uncles? Abusive teachers? Abusive dogs? Honestly, to be an adult raising a child must be rough, considering how any mistake you make might suddenly turn your little babe into a future serial killer. Now, there’s no doubt that there are some seriously terrible parents out there, and that a lot of people have mental woes that definitely came about due to their parents and their abysmal lack of parental care. But generally, how much can you actually blame on your parents? We know the cliché, let’s go sit down on the sofa and complain to our Freudian hack-shrink all about those times as a kid our dad missed the big game, or that time our mother embarrassed us in front of all of our friends. I have plenty of things to complain about my parents, like I believe we all have. Our parents are flawed, messy human beings, of course they occasionally made mistakes throughout our upbringings. But is that nearly enough to turn a person mentally ill? Putting up with an at times really embarrassing mom? No, I don’t think so. And of course, there are some real awful parents out there, I’m not doubting that. Trust me, I’m a fan of true crime, so I’ve heard some real grizzly stories of what some kids are forced to grow up with. But I am thinking that those instances are more rare than they are common. Most people with mental illnesses can most likely not blame their parents.

How ‘bout bullies? Yes, them bullies. Them awful mean bullies that made all of our lives so painful. It’s funny, it seems like every school had their own fair share of bullies, and yet no-one as an adult ever comes forward to admit that they themselves were the bullies. It’s almost like as if no-one ever thinks of themselves as being a bully, even when they are throwing rocks at that weird chubby kid with blonde hair who happens to be named Fredrik and who just wants to be left alone. Was I bullied? Well… yes. But I can’t say I got the brunt of it. I got bullied, but overall I’d say I only ever had it slightly worse than most people. I was still quite tall, typically taller than my classmates growing up, and for the most part I could roll with the punches. If you really want to talk about a kid I knew growing up that got bullied, let me tell you about this kid who knew all the right dances for all the right Britney Spears songs. He was gay, I think. Not quite old enough to have come out, I suspect, but, well... He liked all the female pop stars, but not in that way of wanting to kiss them and fondle their boobies, but in the “I want to sound just like them when I grow up” sort of way. I don’t know what happened to him (or them, or her, depending on how they identify now,) but that was real bullying. Like most folks, I found myself stuck in that limbo of seeing others get bullied far worse than me and being too cowardly to intervene, in fears that I’d end up taking their place. Yes, isn’t school just a marvellous place? It’s a wonder any of us turn out okay.

No, I think that, fundamentally, the problems I have arose with myself. This, blaming myself, is not something that I am unused to doing. I have a long history of blaming myself, that’s really the problem. As a teenager I knew that I was different, and I was frightened and scared of being exposed. I didn’t even really know what it was that was different about me, I just knew that I didn’t fit in. I felt as if I didn’t deserve to fit in. The older I got, the more intense these feelings got. And I started taking it out on myself. I started hating myself. And I really mean furiously hating myself. It wasn’t some casual self-loathing, it was searing self-hatred. I did not physically hurt myself, but I did engage with self-harm. I kept repeating the mantras of “I hate myself,” and “I am pathetic,” over and over again, with the ultimate goal of making myself cry. For a period, I couldn’t go to bed without making myself cry first. I began taking days off from school, pretending to be sick. Well, I suppose I was ill, but not physically. I began failing most of my classes, I only ended up doing well in art. I stayed away from school for whole weeks at the time. Once, when I shame-facedly returned to school some of the meaner boys came up to me and said that they were surprised to learn that I was still alive. They were surprised, but also a little disappointed.

This was a time in my life when I really needed psychiatric care. This became increasingly obvious to my parents, and my teachers. I was clearly suffering from depression. Not just some teenaged angst, but full-blown, wholly insidious, depression. But, well, I didn’t get the care that I needed. Oh, I did go to see a psychologist a couple of times, but she saw no reason for me to continue seeing her. I don’t know why she felt as if I wasn’t in need of help, frankly, I can’t fathom why she felt as if I wasn’t in need of help. I suppose I avoided telling her the truth of what went on inside of my head, but I feel like as if any good psychologist would have been able to tell that the kid sitting across from them was clearly suffering from something a tad more intense than just some common concerns about puberty. At most I was able to confess was that I was feeling ashamed over myself for getting so fat, but it should have been clear to anybody that I was only using that as a hook to hang my self-hatred on. There very clearly was some underlying condition that I had that should have gotten addressed. But it went ignored.

At most I can think to explain this is the fact that I wasn’t “problematic.” Not in the way some kids are, when they’re struggling with their mental health. I did not act out, I did not take drugs, and I was certainly not violent. Even to this day, though I have at many times suffered from suicidal ideation, I am a real low-risk for actual suicide considering my intense fear of dying (yes, that’s an odd combo to have.) So, I’ve come to realise that the only way I am getting treatment is if I actually seek out treatment. And back then, I was just as placid as I had previously always been. I was quiet and introverted, just desperate to get back home so I could go and hide in my room. Many teenagers are like that. And it is easy to ignore them, because they want to be ignored. They just don’t want to exist. When you are desperate to be left alone, eventually people will leave you alone. I would go on to receive psychiatric care later on my life, but only after several years passed. I did have a better time living in my later teenage years, but like with a bone that heals wrong, I needed someone to come in and sort me out. I was sad as a teenager, but I would become really sad as a twenty-something. Hopefully my thirties will be jolly.

[veryvincible]

If tony meets the criteria for ocd, why do you still say he doesn't have it? Not disagreeing just curious

Disclaimer again: I am not a mental health professional, I am simply a mental health advocate with many years of research under my belt, as well as lots of firsthand experience with the diagnostic process and other mental health-related incidences with the medical field (in America specifically). So, as always, feel free to look into it yourself if you’re interested in it, because there’s always discourse in the (very messy) field of psychology. Anyway, on we go.

The thing to remember here is that, with fictional characters, we don’t get to delve into their minds as much as we’d like to; internal monologue, as deep and complex and beautiful as it can be, is still a collection of words to define a mass of feelings, and these masses of feelings can be attributed to so, so many things. When a therapist diagnoses you, they get to ask funky questions like, “Do you feel like your thoughts and concerns spiral, and you’re helpless to stop them?” “Thinking back to your childhood, do you think you exhibited similar symptoms that you’re experiencing currently?” “Do you, personally, have an opinion about what may have been a catalytic event for you adopting this state of mind?” and all sorts of things. Though those are much more formally put than most questions I’ve been asked by therapists, the gist is basically the same-- they get to deep dive into your history, your mind, your self-awareness, your body language, your feelings... and you’re one cohesive person with a cohesive story. 

For comic book characters, we don’t get to delve into that. We don’t get to go, “Well, his childhood was like this, and that explains these behaviors! We can assume his panic response is Like This, and we can assume his attachment style is Like This, and we can assume his symptoms are Like This, and we can assume he feels Like This,” but those are all assumptions, and we can’t probe further. On top of that, most of them aren’t even intentional-- sure, yes, Tony Stark is a very sad man, and most writers make him this very sad man, but I can guarantee that most writers aren’t specifically looking into MDD and writing Tony accordingly. Some may be drawing from personal experience, others may be drawing from assumptions, etc. Whatever the case, Tony is not a cohesive man with a psychological timeline wherein one event leads to a developed response, consistently.

Above all else, diagnosis is a tool for treatment-- yes, it is excellent to be able to better understand yourself and feel the relief that comes along with this, but diagnosis came into being for the sake of medical professionals being able to say, “Hm, you’ve got [whatever]. I will go tell the other doctor you’ve got [whatever], so that guy can help you, because he specializes in [whatever], or you can try these home remedies for [whatever], or we can delve into [whatever] emotionally with talk therapy.”

Because diagnosis is a tool for treatment, you get these funky little footnotes in the DSM (which, again, is not the end-all, be-all, but when it comes to fictional characters, it’s totally fine) and other diagnostic tools that tell you “Even if you meet all these criteria, this diagnosis isn’t necessary if these symptoms would be better explained by something else!” because treating you for every psychological condition you qualify for could be rough on your body, it could end up with conflicting treatments (especially if you make incorrect assumptions, or if certain symptoms are stemming from different physiological factors despite appearing the same externally), and it’s just kind of tedious.

Like, you could potentially exhibit every symptom under the diagnosis of Generalized Anxiety, but if you have severe PTSD from long-term trauma that’s made you super jittery, it might be accepted that Generalized Anxiety wouldn’t be the best diagnosis for you, because ideally the treatment you’d receive for PTSD (trauma counseling, medication, etc.) would help with that.

I will say here that having an “umbrella diagnosis” under which other potential diagnoses could fall is not the same thing as having comorbid disorders; you probably know that already, but I’m going to say it anyway, just in case. Comorbidity involves overlap but separation of diagnoses, whereas the whole “Don’t diagnose your patient with [whatever disorder] if these symptoms are better explained by another thing!” happens more often when the entirety of one potential diagnosis fits under a section of another, more fitting diagnosis. So, if you see anyone with very long lists of diagnoses (probably don’t put big lists like that in your bios, though, please-- that seems kind of dangerous), that’s not a sign that they’re, like, mental illness-hoarding or whatever the fuck, despite that being a very common assumption that a lot of neurotypical people (and honestly, other mentally ill people) can have. Bodies like to be balanced. When one thing falls out of place, a lot of other things might follow. Just a disclaimer for you here, because I feel it’s important to say.

So, that covers... most of the reason why I don’t personally like to point to Tony as a character with OCD. First of all, sure, he has what could be considered obsessions and what could be considered compulsions, but we can’t actually ask him, “Hey, do you think these thoughts are obsessive? Are these potential compulsions things you perform ritualistically in order to make the obsessive thoughts go away?”

And... I don’t know. I think OCD (for me, specifically-- I know there are others with OCD whose opinions differ, and more power to them) is something that has to be written more intentionally for it to read as representation. Sure, they might have what could be intrusive thoughts... but my intrusive thoughts don’t just feel like thoughts that “could” be intrusive. They are intrusive, unmistakably. My compulsions don’t just feel like solutions to the problems I’ve made up or exaggerated in my head; they’re irrational, fear-based, anxiety-inducing. It’s the way you make sure every upstairs door is closed before heading downstairs, because otherwise you get a tightness in your chest and you can’t focus or breathe quite right; or the way you get up out of bed to make sure your door is locked multiple times just in case you forgot; or the way you develop avoidant tendencies or overly communicative tendencies because if you don’t, the ramifications within your relationships could be unbearable. It’s having a voice inside your head that’s not just telling you you’re a monster, the perfect antithesis to everything you’ve ever held dear; it’s a voice inside your head that is the monster, a voice that sounds the same as your own, simultaneously overprotective of your well-being and overly interested in the total destruction of your person.

And... I’m not saying Tony doesn’t experience that. He clearly has this feeling of “I am a monster” inside of him. He clearly has that feeling due to what he perceives as his own shortcomings. But these are comic books, and though there are many ways you could introduce intrusive thoughts in an internal monologue, we don’t really get that with Tony as much as I’d need to in order to feel represented by him. We don’t get him thinking shit like, “You could abandon this all, you could leave this shit to the rest of the team, you could fuck off and live on an island somewhere else, you could hole yourself up in a room and never leave, you could kill them, you could kill him, you could kill everyone, you know for a fact you have the resources to kill everyone, don’t you want to make sure? What if your tech fails? What if you do kill everyone? What would happen, huh? How would that look? How would that feel? What do you think it would feel like to pick up their bodies, to look in their eyes and have nothing staring back at you? You could tell him you hate him. Not to save him from you, no-- you could just do it because you’re able to do it, because you’ve cultivated these relationships and you’ve fooled everyone into loving you despite knowing you don’t deserve it. You’ve tricked them, and every day you continue on like this you’re manipulating them, and you’ve taken so much from them-- they’ve put so much of themselves in your hand that you could so, so easily crush if you just took a second and did it.”

... And we don’t get the accompanying monologue of, “No, god no, what the fuck, that’s not who I am, that’s not who I want, I’m not like that, I love them, that can’t be who I am, if that’s who I am then what does that say about me, what does that say about the space I take up, what does that make me?”

Which is where the OCD version of “I am a monster” tends to originate-- the inherent inability to separate oneself from the illness, the difficulty in coping with an overactive survival mechanism ready to ensure you’re prepared for every single thing that could go wrong, very specifically the things you’re most worried about, because that’s what matters, right? The things you’re worried most about. And Tony’s most worried about love, about his loved ones, about the planet, about life.

But “I am a monster” doesn’t imply that internal monologue. “I am a monster” could be a legitimate analysis of what he’s been through and what he’s done, clouded by self-loathing instilled in him by his father. “I am a monster” could be something he’s thought since he was younger, not because of any specific symptoms he developed, but because of what he was told-- because he was told he was wrong, bad, unlovable.

I think Tony could get there. I think I honestly may have written Tony there at some point, just because it’s easy to write for me. But if we’re following standard diagnostic procedures with a man on a page who really hasn’t been written intentionally with anything other than substance abuse, symptoms of PTSD, and depression... I don’t know. It doesn’t read like OCD to me. It doesn’t feel like OCD to me, and if at any point it did, I think that would be more of me filling in blanks with my own experiences than it would be anything else.

(There is one canonical instance of “I could kill this person right now if I wanted to!” level intrusive-ish thoughts I can think of off the top of my head, and that is in the most recent Iron Man run, and that also doesn’t read like OCD to me because, honestly, nothing Cantwell writes with regards to mental health seems natural or authentic or accurate. Also, I don’t know if it really qualifies as an intrusive thought if it feels more like a justified outburst of rage to the character thinking it, so, uh. Hmm.)

[beautifuldarkmind]

tw // s*lf harm, su*cidal ideation (sorry)

Hey, it’s the creepy NHS anon here.

Thank you for responding to my ask! I’m sorry you had such a rough time getting a diagnosis. You shouldn’t have had to go through all of that. Honestly it sucks that the NHS is so reluctant to diagnose anything mental health related.

When I was 14 I thought I had depression and anxiety. I finally convinced my mum to take me to the doctors when I was 16. The doctor was super nice. She tested my thyroid function just to make sure nothing else was causing my feelings, then referred me to CAMHS. That was…an interesting experience. I remember asking my counsellor to diagnose me, but then at the next session she said she couldn’t, that it “wouldn’t be helpful” because I was still growing. Now that I think about it, one of the days I was at school and during a class I was furious for some reason. I even said to a classmate that I was willing to fight anyone who got in my way. Despite my mum disagreeing with me, I cancelled my appointment that day. (My mum was worried they’d stop my sessions all together if I cancelled, but they didn’t.)

Fast toward to recent years and I’ve been on and off attempting to get a diagnosis. Last year (so when I was about 18) I asked to be referred to the autism clinic, and thankfully the GP accepted, but the clinic is still closed and even when it’s open I’ll still have to wait, possibly several years. Then I made another appointment (different GP) to be referred to a psychiatrist. She refused, saying that GPs are trained to deal with mental health issues. I brought up OCD, so she asked where I got my information from. When I told her I researched it online, she just brushed it off and then did the typical depression/anxiety test and she said both were severe, then said “take some drugs” (which is didn’t because I didn’t trust taking drugs prescribed by someone who did a 3 minute yes/no type quiz without actually fully exploring my issues).

I spoke to a different GP just over a month ago to get a fit note for my Universal Credit. It was supposed to just be to make adjustments to what I was supposed to do, but he didn’t ask what the note was for, so he marked unfit for work. Which is great because that’s secretly what I wanted but feared being judged by people around me for thinking I needed that (particularly my parents). I mentioned that I thought I could have OCD and CPTSD, and he didn’t deny it but he simply said CBT helps for both. He then asked if I was currently doing CBT and I said I’d done it before but I quit. (That’s a whole other story but tldr I really don’t think it was for me, or at least the “therapist” wasn’t.) He said he would send a self referral link.

Fast forward to a few days ago and I had another appointment with him to discuss my fit note (because it only lasts for a month and you have to go back to renew it, which sucks). He asked if I had referred myself to CBT and I said I hadn’t yet because I didn’t want to, and he said “please do that for me” in a somewhat stern voice. I then brought up BPD and I think he said he would refer me? Honestly I was a bit overwhelmed because he called 40 mins early and I was in the car with my dad, so I was super weary of him asking questions about what I was saying to the doctor (but he didn’t). He then brought up PD support groups, which I’m considering doing, but you have to call up the place and I literally hate phone calls. Oh, speaking of which, all the appointments from the autism one onwards were all on the phone, so not only was I struggling to process what they were saying to me most of the time, but I was also so anxious that I couldn’t articulate my feelings properly. :)

Anyways, I am 20 now, which I only mention because I feel the same as what you mentioned. My brother is married, my childhood crush is married, my friend who I introduced to my friend group who then proceeded to discard me is getting married. Everyone seems to know exactly what they’re doing. They all have friends. But not me. I haven’t had friends since I was 14, and even then I don’t think that friend group was entirely wholesome. They made me feel like an outcast, like I was weird, that I needed to be more like them and not be like me. Which has probably contributed to me having a very vague sense of identity. And I feel like I’m still 14 and yet everyone is expecting me to behave like an adult. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing with my life even tho I literally cried in the shop when I was pressured to choose between 2 pizzas.

I have no support system. My own parents seem very dismissive of my problems, equating everything to social anxiety. When I’m stressed out of mind to the point of feeling suicidal, my parents say “that’s just life”, which…well, feeds into the feelings. For years I’ve felt stressed. Then if I’m not stressed I feel absolutely nothing. And if I’m not feeling empty I am angry, sometimes for no reason. And if I’m not angry, I am curled in a ball trying to bottle up the urge to self harm and batting away suicidal thoughts.

It’s like I have a huge chain pulling me down underwater and everyone else is in the beach drinking cocktails or something. Sometimes I thrash and try to get people to notice, but people think I’m just having fun. Other days I just feel like letting the chain pull me down.

Please forgive me for rambling and probably not having a very consistent train of thought in this post. I have a tendency to blab on about my “problems” (if they even are that), I guess as a way to connect? Idk. This post makes no sense.

I hope you’re having a good day. <3

- 🌸✨ (in case I send another ask again, but I’ll try not to because I don’t wanna bother you)

So sorry you're going through something similar. My GP sounded exactly how yours was, the typical anxiety/depression test and then just throwing those at you.. they dont seem to be trained in diagnosing and they dont want to hear anything more either. It's honestly almost impossible getting a diagnosis through them, the system here is really messed up... its just disappointing and seems to be failing so many people including you.

It does sound like you're going through a hard time, it's not nice especially when you feel a loss of self identity, you dont even know who you are and just feel lost in life. I think that was definitely the main point of realising something was up.. I had a VERY distorted view of myself and others around me and that was why I'd often self sabotage everything and then I'd feel so empty and angry at the world and just explode...

If you can go privately then do so, therapists are not able to diagnose and they will usually tell you 'we don't like to label' but even without a diagnosis you can still see if you can access DBT therapy. Amazon also has lots of DBT workbooks that I've used and its helped me to really understand myself!

If you often feel invalidated by your parents then that is known to cause BPD or borderline traits, especially if you've been suffering with mental illness in childhood and they tried to claim that it was nothing....you mentioned anxiety and I was told the approach my parents may have took to my severe anxiety is what brought on many of my symptoms of BPD. You start to feel ashamed of yourself for feeling that way because your caregivers make it seem like the issue isnt important and you feel as if your feelings dont matter also because that is how you have been made to feel.

I'm not saying this is definitely the cause but in my case I was told that the constant feeling of invalidation may be why I have such a warped idea of myself and why I cannot regulate my emotions. I was never told HOW to regulate or shown how to, just told to ignore my emotions and now I dont know how to deal with them😀

but yeah I'd really recommend taking a look at some of those dbt books online or reading more into it so you have a better understanding of yourself. You've already taken the first step and that's identifying that something may be wrong so you are self aware and clearly want to change for the better 💕

I hope everything works out for you, it's not nice feeling this way but you've got this 🥺🙌

[selestialhealing]

With May being Mental Health Awareness Month, I thought I’d share that I have every intention of taking care of myself and seeking help to get back to the person I know I can be. I’ve struggled with waves of not being well since I was a child, but this past year has really affected me in ways I never expected.

Not only did everything change in the blink of an eye with everything being shut down and moved online, but I also entered a new program with a lot more responsibility. I’m happy to know I finished strong, but I still sit here and think of all the ways I could’ve performed better and gotten through the days easier if only I had taken the time to take care of myself and get back into therapy. I look around and see so many others doing the same thing, and I’m hoping we can all work towards doing what’s truly best for us.

I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed from the moment I wake up until the moment I lay my head down, only to stay up for hours struggling to slow down my mind. I’m tired of feeling inadequate because I fail to do what I used to do so easily and what I know I’m capable of. I’ve struggled a lot with imposter syndrome, wondering if I belong where I am after being so certain this was where I was meant to be—living life on screen and away from others has proven to be difficult, sucking the creativity and ability to relax out of me. I’ve struggled to create. I’ve struggled to write, especially over the past semester. I’ve struggled to sleep, to get up in time, to stay on top of everything, to allow myself to be human—all while dealing with technological issues and adjustments and balancing the obligations I feel to others, myself, and the many things I choose to be part of.

Since I first started experiencing symptoms of anxiety, depression, and OCD in elementary school, I’ve struggled with convincing myself I’m okay by consuming myself with distractions—more specifically extracurricular activities, taking care of others, and my education. Sometimes, I get so angry with myself when I feel like I’m at my breaking point because I know I spread myself too thin. I convince myself everything’s fine and I’m just overwhelmed with my workload or the responsibilities for the day when it’s not that simple. My symptoms have only gotten worse: not eating, not sleeping, not drinking water, not exercising, not feeling, not waking up until I’m no longer stuck in a vivid dream (and y’all, I really mean STUCK). I’ve been on the same medicine since high school, and it hasn’t seemed to helped a bit since we first returned to school in the Fall. I haven’t been back to counseling because of the influx of new patients and backed up waiting lists in surrounding areas. I haven’t been back to counseling because I keep putting it off, because I don’t have insurance, because I don’t want to deal with paperwork or making appointments. I haven’t been back to counseling because I’m scared.

Mental health is not talked about or taken seriously enough in a time that everyone is truly being affected. Since I’ve officially submitted my last final for the semester, the first thing on my to-do list is to find an office to start counseling with. The next is to follow up on new medication. And after that, who knows... Lots of healing. Lots of accountability. Lots of doing the work no matter how unfair it is.

I want to write. I want to read. I want to sit outside because I can, because my soul demands it. I want to dance and listen to music and play music again. I want to socialize and connect and be the best version of myself, the person 12-year-old me would think is the coolest. I want to take selfies again. I want to look in the mirror and see a twinkle in my eyes, to wake up and feel worthy and deserving and alive. I want to feel more than a heavy weight in my chest or my mind being crushed by the feeling of impending doom (over something as simple as waking up later than I intended when my body clearly needed rest). It is so exhausting to live a life where you feel you’re just going through the motions, not making memories or processing everything you’re experiencing. It’s scary to forget the feeling of lasting joy, to wake up and feel like nothing you do can make things better, to realize you just keep distracting yourself and setting yourself up for failure just because you’re “making it” through.

I am so much more than I have been lately (and lately dates back to a long time ago if we’re being wholeheartedly honest), but I’m trying to be kind and forgiving and patient and gracious to myself just as I would be to any other person struggling to get through the day. I’m trying to tell myself it’s not too late, that it’s worth it, that it will get better—even when my mind tries to convince me otherwise. I haven’t been as transparent as I used to be, acting like everything’s fine and posting the most put-together-looking versions of myself and only sharing the good parts—if I even have the energy for that.

The truth is there have been lots of cloudy days over the past year, lots of tears, lots of out-of-character moments, lots of backsliding in any progress I’ve ever made, lots of falling back on unhealthy coping mechanisms I spent months unlearning. There have been lots of moments of almost giving up, of being mean to myself, of doubting myself and my ability and my worth. Our minds are so powerful, carrying the power to build or destroy. Mine has been destroying me, little by little, every day. I haven’t slept or eaten like I should. I haven’t listened to my body. I’ve pushed aside the obvious symptoms and convinced myself it could be dealt with later, all while knowing I’ve been sinking deeper and deeper. Every. Single. Day.

Here’s to going on this journey once again and hopefully staying on top of it, giving myself the time and space to thoroughly heal. I’m so used to pouring myself into others, into a paper or my classes, into organizing events and performing jobs that drain the little bit of energy I can muster up (and yes, these things are rewarding when I accomplish the task at hand... but I’m still not okay). So much of my worth has been tied to the accomplishments I achieve. This will be my third time scheduling a consultation with a therapist. This will be my third time switching medications after building up a tolerance or dealing with side effects since the age of 17. I don’t like to think this will be forever, but until I do something, it will be.

Life is hard, especially with everything going on. Please check in on those around you. Check in on yourself. Encourage yourself to do what’s necessary to stop giving into what you have the power to change, even if it takes a bit more time or energy than you’d like. If you read this far, thank you for taking the time to do so. Thank you for caring. For once, I’ll say openly and publicly I’m not okay. Most days, I’m far from it. And I haven’t been for quite some time. In so many ways, I’ve been in much lower places mentally. Yet in other ways, I’m lower than I’ve ever been before. I’m tired. But I’m tired enough to do something to change this narrative before I’m too tired to do anything at all. And I’m hoping if you feel this too, you will hold yourself to the same standard. Reminding myself and everyone who’s read this far that progress is never linear, but that doesn’t mean progress isn’t obtainable either. I hope you learn to remind yourself this too.

That degree isn’t everything. That job isn’t everything. That inconsiderate person in your life isn’t everything. It is not the end of the world, no matter how much it feels to be crashing and burning down around you. And nothing you do or don’t do matters if you’re not capable of soaking in the moment, if you’re not all here to experience it. I hope I can learn to remember this. I hope you can too.

[healingchildhoodtrauma]

*trigger warning: child abuse, suicide

The unraveling of a lifetime of denial

At the beginning of last year, I cut all ties with my abusive brother after I started having vivid, highly disturbing nightmares about him. I could no longer deny how badly he hurt me. I couldn’t even see his name or picture without going into a flashback.

Also at the beginning of last year, I went no contact with my narcissistic mother. She pretended to empathize and believe me about my brother to then go behind my back and complain about “having to handle me with kid gloves” (although she never has, even when I actually was a kid).

I lived with my sister from then until February of this year, who showed me beyond a shadow of a doubt (and even admitted) that she’s just like my mother. So after a lot of wrestling with my own denial, I had to go no contact with her as well.

That left my dad. I stayed in contact with him until about April/May of this year! But once I started being honest with myself about everyone in my family, peeling back the layers of denial.. and no longer had to live in disassociation because I no longer lived with any family members, it became more clear to me all the ways he was abusive on his own. There was like a tier of abusive people in my family, everyone abused me physically when I was a child and continued to emotionally even into my adulthood. I started to realize any connection to my family at all kept me stuck in this role as the scapegoat - I saw myself through their eyes: as worthless, deserving abuse, my feelings didn’t matter. I was struggling with money and my dad offered to help, the last time I saw him he was cold and indifferent as he always is, but I couldn’t make excuses anymore. I couldn’t fawn anymore. I’m an adult now, I don’t need these trauma responses to survive, I don’t have to retraumatize myself any longer. I remember feeling fine before seeing him, then after I saw him I was hit with a huge wave of feeling suicidal. It couldn’t be any clearer to me what I had to do. It was excruciating: but I had to let go of the final person in my family I was making excuses for.. I was believing a fairy tale in my head about, “at least I had this person” when really they were hurting me along with the rest of them. I made the decision to give up my car, to accept any financial consequences that would arise from not depending on him any longer or seeing/speaking to him in any way. My inner child wasn’t safe around him. I had to hide my vulnerability, and I already have to do that with the rest of the world. To try to do that around the people that should feel like home, is draining and depressing.

The shedding of the denial and disassociation I lived in for my entire life was the most painful and difficult process, I don’t even know how to convey it or put it into words. I remember I sat down at my laptop and started writing a google document intended to be the start of a book. I thought I could sum up my mother’s narcissistic abuse rather quickly. But when I started writing, in a house without any family or abusers, the truth came flooding back to me. I was never safe. My childhood was characterized by violence and threats of violence. I have actually been abused by everyone in my family. Not just emotionally but physically as well. I was like a lamb among wolves. The more I learned about narcissistic mothers and how they triangulate and manipulate the whole family, I felt like I finally understood what was wrong with my family. I see now why my mother worked so hard to keep my controlled and gaslit. Once I started seeing this I couldn’t unsee it. I tried writing about my childhood and realized there were entire years I have barely any recollection of. For the first time in my life since childhood I was flooded again with the sheer terror of my childhood. It wasn’t just neglect. They weren’t just busy or stressed. They were purposely cruel. No amount of minimization or invalidation could make me unsee this truth.

For months I lived in this terror. It didn’t help that there were many compounding factors leading to the decline of my mental health. I got the worst physical injury I’ve had in my life, and every time my wife would undress, clean and redress the wound, I would go into a flashback of when I was physically hurt by my family members and couldn’t get away or fight back. I cried and cried and cried, I shook, I screamed. I didn’t understand what was happening for a while, I didn’t understand why I felt so trapped and powerless and terrified. My wife of course wasn’t purposely hurting me at all, she was helping me, doing what had to be done, and it tore her up to see me in so much pain. It was also physically gruesome to me. I couldn’t look at the wound. It also impaired my functioning more than it already was, because it was my right hand. I couldn’t open or pour myself drinks, I couldn’t really make myself meals, I couldn’t type on my phone which was how I was journaling.

Around this same time the pandemic hit. Along with my constant flashbacks and my finger injury, I started developing OCD like behavior: intense fear of not washing my hands enough, of anything being dirty or contaminated, I felt like I could never get clean enough. I was having daily panic attacks, along with the flashbacks and uncontrollable crying that would happen twice a day when my finger was being cleaned and dressed. I started starving myself. I developed constant headaches, dizziness, fatigue, my muscles and bones started to hurt. I started sleeping all day and only being awake at night in the darkness of my room. I barely left my room, even to go to the bathroom or kitchen. Sitting up became difficult. I remember almost blacking out, feeling swallowed by darkness, and surrendering to it: thinking yes, please, take me, finally. I developed agoraphobia, afraid to even sit on my porch, everyone and everything felt like a threat. I tried sitting by a window and still felt exposed and scared, I’d end up quickly shutting the blinds if I saw anyone and always felt myself scanning for danger. I knew this was CPTSD. I tried a couple different jobs and couldn’t do them, due to my physical and emotional impairments. By June, I gave myself til the end of the month for things to get better. I said to myself, if things don’t get better by then, I give myself permission to kill myself. A wave of relief and joy washed over me. Only one more month!!! Finally, no more suffering! Finally, no more living for others while I am already dead inside. Although at the same time there was this tiny little voice inside me that knew these things I was experiencing were going to get better in time. I kept this plan a secret from my wife. I planned what I was going to do and where my body was going to be found. Then the next day I tried hanging out with her like normal and she started talking about the future. Months from now, things we could do together. I started crying, I didn’t tell her why, I just knew there was no way I could do this to her, no matter how much I was suffering. Within a couple days I told her to keep the bottle of pills with her at night while she went to work because I wanted to overdose on them. Positive change came at the end of the month via a work from home job I tried to do, but could only do for 2 weeks before burning out. But it was enough for me to keep on living and not feel like a burden. Eventually I told my wife about the deal I made with myself and why, and she assured me she wanted me around even if I couldn’t work. Around the time I made the plan I remember being in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, into my eyes, and it was like my inner child inside me said to me, Don’t give up on me.

I tried a free counselor and she wasn’t good. I tried an anti depressant and the side effects were too bad for me to stay on it. This whole time I was self medicating with cannabis but at times it would make the flashbacks and paranoia worse. My finger finally healed. I finally found a supplement that helped me have enough energy to get out of bed more, to cook and even to dance. I learned what to do during flashbacks. I learned how to comfort my inner child. I learned about “high functioning” autism and how so many females go undiagnosed or get misdiagnosed as BPD (which I was in 2013). It explained so many of my difficulties my entire life, including my being taken advantage of by so many people, my hyper sensitivity and my current burnout. The term masking perfectly described what I’ve been doing my entire life. I thought everyone mimicked personalities they thought were likeable to such a degree, I thought everyone followed scripts in their head. I started seeing how the flashbacks from trauma I’ve been experiencing have been compounded by the rumination/brain loops from autism, and meltdowns from sensory overload. I’m finally at a place where I feel like I know how to manage flashbacks and I’m aware of my sensory intolerances/sensitivities. I’m finally at a place where I consistently listen to my body, I don’t push myself into meltdowns. I’m still not working, I still have physical symptoms that we think may be MS but we don’t have insurance for me to see a neurologist yet. I am not starving myself, I’m forcing myself to eat. I’ve been able to go outside more. It’s September, we’re still in a pandemic and I still have trauma to work through, but it’s a lot less on my plate then a couple months ago. I’ve been stretching and even lifting weights from time to time. I’ve been singing and writing. This whole time I’ve been researching everything intensely, it’s one of my “preoccupations”. I’ve learned so much about CPTSD, childhood trauma, narcissistic abuse/families and I continue to learn every day. If you read this far, thank you for reading. I just had to get this out. I’m aware it’s not grammatically perfect. I feel a shift happening as I understand myself more and more. I don’t think too far in the future. But I know I’m heading in the right direction. I know I made the right decision in going no contact with my family. I know it wasn’t my fault they did what they did/are who they are. I’m finding joy in the little things. I still have bad days, healing is like that... two steps forward, one step back. I don’t want anyone to go through what I went through. I want more girls with autism to have support and understanding. I don’t want kids to go through abuse and blame themselves. I don’t want scapegoat children of narcissistic mothers/families to feel obligated to stay in contact with their parasitic families. I want mental health care to be better, more accessible and more affordable.

[system-of-a-feather]

Our Psychiatrist Hurts My Brain

So I was going in to talk to the psychiatrist because Riku can’t explain their OCD symptoms for the life of them because they don’t even believe they have it 75% of the time when it is obvious and because I am honestly not doing well particularly with anxiety and OCD-related issues and I really wanted to see if we could ACTUALLY get our psychiatrist to get us something that could help with obsession-related issues.

I straight up went in - after Riku had established to that psychiatrist that we have DID and our memory is shit because of it in two sessions and specifically stated that we don’t need to treat the dissociation because there isn’t medication for it and we are more the “cope with dissociation, medicate other shit” - and straight up stated that I am Ray another alter and all that mojo since I was not going to pretend to be Riku and pretend I suddenly understand our symptoms and am anxious around psychiatrists.

I don’t have that time and don’t have the energy and the session isn’t long enough to dote around pretending to be Riku.

But anyways, for those that don’t know, I have a very limited emotional identification range - I am bad at having emotions out of the annoyed, content, and amused range. After going on for 15 minutes he asked “so I hear you are not doing well, but I didn’t catch what / why? Are you feeling sad? Not sleeping well?”

And that is a fair enough question but I hated it and forced myself to try to explain it despite it being one of the hardest things for me to put into words and thats *fine* because it is a fair enough question

But somewhere later I had stated that “I am really just not doing well at all but the rest of the system is mostly fine” and he followed up with a “Elaborate on that. Why / How is it that you are not doing well but everyone else is fine? Why is that so?”

And I just fucking sat there like, how the?? fuck?? am?? I supposed??? to answer that??? Because?? Its?? Dissociated??? We have DID?????

And then the dude - after Riku stating the DID is not a focus on medical treatment - went and said something like “Well something we can use to treat the DID and PTSD is this blablablablahanti-psychotic but it might make you gain weight so we might not want to invite that”

And I sat there just like ????? We have clearly stated that our anxiety is the main issue, that our OCD is my current main issue, and you are focusing on the DID which we have claimed is a non-issue for psychiatry??? And trying to put us on anti-psychotics????

Sir. We have DID. We are in treatment for it. We can navigate it. Yes we are decently aware of eachother’s conditions because we’ve worked on it for 2 years in therapy 3 years over all.

No, we don’t want to take those because of “weight gain” because we are slightly overweight, but more importantly BECAUSE WE DON’T WANT TO TREAT THE DISSOCIATION ITSELF.

Jesus, after we check in that the new medication we are going to be put on isn’t killing us, we are getting a new psychiatrist that doesn’t make me need to explain structural dissociation on the spot.

-Ray (Gatekeeper)

[kuviras-eyeliner]

TRIGGER WARNING: depression, anxiety, eating disorders, many mental health disorders that are fcking being romanticized everywhere and it drives me CRAZY

HI IM GONNA VENT FOR A QUICK SECOND, 

SO I’M LOOKING AT ADHD AWARENESS tiktok compilations on YouTube, and I really respect the videos.

But the comments.

THE COMMENTS.

All of them say, “I have all those symptoms, too!! I totally have ADHD”

or “lol same i literally can’t focus in class online” and then the replies say, “i can’t focus either it’s so boring omg”

or they might say (these are all copy-pasted): “Video: signs of adhd include fidgeting, rejection sensitive dysphoria, memory loss

me: oh

(and then they replied to their own comment): basically i literally get so bored, and this one time, my bf said no to a prom date, and i always forget where i put my phone, you know? i have adhd :0″

Now, I usually don’t get angry, but this drives me CRAZY.

YOU DO NOT HAVE ADHD UNTIL YOU ARE PROPERLY DIAGNOSED!! YOU CAN IN FACT, BEFOREHAND, BUT YOU SHOULD SEE A DOCTOR RIGHT AWAY!! You can’t just go around saying, “right after this my mom listed out all the symptoms and I as like :0 I have adhd” NO, NO YOU DON’T!! People honestly romanticize having ADHD, and that’s what drives me crazy!

👏DO👏NOT👏SELF-DIAGNOSE👏

I DON’T HAVE ADHD MYSELF, (I haven’t been diagnosed. And even if, yes, I am showing many symptoms, THAT DOESN’T MEAN I HAVE ADHD. I COULD, but will I try to “fit in with the trend” as some disgusting people call it? No, of course not! I can’t say that I have ADHD or whatnot until I’m officially told that I do, because what if I don’t know for certain?) BUT I DO KNOW THAT WHEN PEOPLE ROMANTICIZE THESE THINGS, IT hurts BECAUSE THEY LITERALLY DON’T KNOW EXACTLY HOW IT FEELS

OH AND OCD, ANOREXIA, DID, DEPRESSION, DYSLEXIA, ANXIETY.

YOU👏SHOULDN’T👏THINK👏THIS👏IS👏A👏TREND

THOSE ARE NOT TRENDS.

PEOPLE ON YOUTUBE LITERALLY HAVE THE AUDACITY TO COMMENT, “yeah my bf didn’t ask me out last week i’m so depressed” or “i have anxiety over my new show not airing” or “omg that tile over there is triggering my OCD” or “sorry idk how to spell that my dyslexia is alive” or “i prob have an identity disorder idk who i am lmao” or “i didn’t eat breakfast, i probably have an eating disorder..”

NO, NO YOU DON’T!!

Yes, you can be in those situations, and yes, you can be diagnosed. However, if you really show no real proof or you really just seem like a 6-year-old saying they’re depressed because their parents didn’t buy them an icecream sundae or what not is not okay. 

DO👏NOT👏ROMANTICIZE👏THESE👏

I feel so sorry for anyone who’s dealing with these. But I literally couldn’t hold this back any longer, because people who do this drive me up a wall. These mental issues hurt and effect our lives, and it’s not okay to romanticize and make a joke out of it. I’m sorry if anyone had to go through these. Please stay strong and reach out to me whenever you need it.

But hey, this had to be said. Please stay safe.

[shari-berri]

Let’s have a talk about human decency, respect of other people, respecting disabilities, disorders, illnesses, and overall not being a dick. Oh! And wanting answers as this person was not helpful, PLEASE ANSWER ITS URGENT!

I made a post on Yahoo Answers for an issue I have been having.

This is what my question/information was:

Our kitten who is relatively new, 1 year, keep going to the bathroom outside of the litter box. My mom keeps moving it to where she has used it but she suddenly moved it upstairs. Now, she said that there needs to be on on every level of the house, but there are a few things wrong with that. First off, our house has a half level. The only thing “upstairs” on a “second floor” is the kids rooms and a bathroom. Otherwise it is open space for the living room. Besides that, it said that a litter box shoulder be anywhere near loud areas, like children’s bedrooms. Now, I am right across from it and I already have insomnia. I’m extremely sensitive to smell, sound, all senses, probably my ADHD, and this wouldn’t help. There is also one in the bathroom. I gag/puke at anything. Every smell is amplified by 100 due to my adhd sensitivity. I know what something tastes like from smelling it. I puke almost every single time I clean the litter boxes and the smell drifts right into my room, not to mention my allergies to cats and asthma. Our cats that do this don’t even relieve themselves upstairs and I feel like this would just make them since it happened before in the bathroom but it stopped after putting the litter box downstairs. I fear for my health and that it would cause the kitten to defecate on the rugs again.

This was a person’s reply:

Let’s debunk this, shall we?

-I was accused of, lemme check, faking my MENTAL ILLNESS due to “incorrect symptoms” and such. Apparently, hypersensitivity to surroundings isn’t a symptom of ADHD, only OCD.

This person stated that ADHD only “has trouble focusing and relaxing”

If you were to look at it on the most basic and uneducated level then sure, that’s entirely what the whole fucking disorder is!

Lesser known symptoms of ADHD that as someone WITH this mental illness would know:

-(MOSTLY) transient tics

-difficulty controlling emotions

-anger

-impulsiveness

-OH WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?! HYPERSENSITIVITY!!!

-Next: “You’re either making this shit up or you’re just a REALLY stupid complaining child” “trolling”

Social rules and norms, yeah?

Apparently they’re nonexistent to this person

Right, so NEVER, and I speak for everyone with a disorder, disability, whatever, NEVER EVER accuse them of ‘faking it’!

Oh, yes, I love pretending like I have (blank), I love the ostracization it gets me, the harassment, the bullying, it’s my FAVORITE part!

Assuming they’re talking about the topic of the question: ummmm...pets 101?

Yes, my cat has never shit on the floor, Princess ALWAYS uses her litter box.

Where the fuck did this happen?! Animals do this for different reasons, why the hell would I “make this shit up?”

You know me, joking about stepping in my cat’s shit, hilarious!

-“I bet you whined and whined for a kitten but now that you realize it includes work you don’t want it!”

At the time we got Fufu, we were in no position to adopt another cat. We already had 3 and were living in a rental house after my house had a fire. We were lucky that our three cars were ALIVE AND BREATHING, having been rescued and given tiny oxygen masks and kept in the vet’s breathing chamber. My sister’s friend had kittens and my mom brought it home to “babysit” for the day. Of course, she ended up keeping it. I was AGAINST the idea, ya hear that?! We were in no way able to take care of another creature, we were settling legalities and such. Did I mention that my mom had done the same thing with the third cat? Just showed up from work one day with a cat carrier and cat. I did NOT at all whine, I had no idea we were adopting our last 2 cats.

About work being involved and me backing out because of it:

For YEARS since I was 4 I have been going to a horse riding summer camp where in order to ride, we had to clean. I’m pretty sure that if I’m able to:

-muck out 20+ stalls

-change all of the hay

-Carry tons of hay bales

-Lead horses time pasture etc

-pick horses hooves

And all that? You think a fucking LITTER BOX is “too much work” and that I’m gonna leave because, “Oh no! Now that I know there’s work, I no longer want to do it!”

-Allergies: Again, I didn’t have a say in whether or not I got this cat

-“Tell your family you don’t deserve this kitten.”

And that helps my cats shitting on the ground, my inability to breathe from asthma, especially from the litter in my room how? Cool, I told my parents I don’t deserve Fufu, problem solved, well done Governer!

-“You’re an immature child making shit up just to shirk the responsibilities of caring for it.”

Again, seeing all of the work I did just for a summer camp, where I shouldn’t have been working in the first place in order to ride horses like I was paying to do, I don’t find this statement accurate, like at all. Not including all of the other things I do:

-Pack Away Hunger

-Summer camp counselor

-Volunteering at animal shelters

Sure dude, sure.

Again with the making shit up?! Are people not aware that animals have accidents? I had to put diapers on my elderly Yorkie! And making shit up, ah yes, I forgot nobody has ever witnessed someone with a strong gag reflex. Yeah, peacefully relaxing, something that I apparently can’t do because I have ADHD, but make me gag randomly.

Let’s also remember that due to my hypersensitivity, I know what something tastes like from smelling it. Taking “eat shit” to a whole new level!

How relaxing is it to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of cats scratching around and throwing litter everywhere, the sweet scent of cat shit lulling you to sleep.

Mmmmm peaceful!

Now: analyzing what I said

It did say that cats should have a litter box on ever floor, but what if it was a half floor? Yeah, the only second floor we have is a slight jutting platform that is enough to hold children bedrooms and a bathroom.

Again, only move the litter box if absolutely necessary

Fufu used to relieve herself on the upstairs bathroom rugs but since we put a litter box in the porch, she stopped doing that. Oh, and the porch is connected to the kitchen, no doors. It’s great trying to eat while smelling cat business wafting through the air like Eddie’s breath going back into his face, big fan!

She started recently peeing outside of the litter box in the kitchen, if we put litter boxes somewhere, wouldn’t she just shit in that area?? (Answer in comments)

Litter boxes should not be by loud areas, specifically, children’s bedrooms. And, there should be a clear escape route.

Being directly in between my youngest sisters’ room who scream loudly when watching anime and my older sister’s room who squeals, not at ALL quiet.

And escape routes??? Our cats could get stuck in so many places, that’s a no!

So, please let me know in the comments what I should do! I REALLY need answers!

[ladyofpurple]

here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.

so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.

anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.

anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.

i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.

in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.

by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?

anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.

end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.

end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.

it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.

that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.

it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.

i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao

anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.

it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.

a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.

anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.

in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.

anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.

a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.

so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.

i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.

[luxeor]

It was suggested to me I may have OCD and I can’t stop wondering if it’s true or not... :/

You see, when I was 16 I told my parents I wanted to see a therapist to help me solve my extreme anxiety, depression, insomnia, dissociation and mood swings since I was at my breaking point and became aware enough to realize something rlly was wrong with me (unlike my parents who are so incredibly oblivious and have always been in denial of my mental health), I went, got answers and the professional diagnosis i got after several sessions and neurological testing was that I had Asperger Syndrome (Mild Autism in other words) which I believed at first but the more time passes the more I believe this wasn’t quite right...

Yes, i had an abnormal difficulty to socialize, communicate, inability to express emotions, was inflexible, routine obsessed, had weird specific interests nobody gave a shit about... which was perfect formula to be easy target of bullying, abuse and manipulation to subsequently create more difficulties. Years living like this made me repress everything, live in a lot of isolation, within a mental prison that I rlly wanted to break but couldn’t until i actually seeked help. And the thing is, a lot of these conditions associated with autism are nearly non-existent now (more in particular socializing, communication, reading people, expressing and identifying emotions etc cause I can now perform them splendidly) either cause I worked on myself or basically never had Asperger’s, but rather had OCD all along (Unless I have both which is :/ idk, I don’t eat it up), cause to this day i still present obsessions, perfectionism, inflexibility, weird repetitive behaviours nobody seems to do, isolation, intrusive thoughts (of the rlly ugly kind), extreme anxiety/panic or anger if something doesn’t meet my rigid standards, washing my hands a lot, and other similar shit that has definitely been present since I can remember and have grown accustomed to.

I mean I already read a lot of the symptoms and definitely identify with a lot of them. Ever since the AD diagnosis however I worked really hard to convince myself I was normal and wasn’t mentally handicapped to function in the real world like any other person and it worked u now? Took years to make it but was eventually able to function like any other person, nobody would ever think i have AD, yet there’s still some odd behaviour patterns in my life that still show up, are definitely not normal, interfere and give me an inability to perform certain things appropriately and also different forms of distress/anxiety which point to OCD.

And tbh, I don’t even feel like telling my parents cause I know my mom’s gonna get mad and say i’m crazy or call me an attention whore, and my dad’s just gonna remain meek and oblivious as he’s always been for everything so this will be something I keep to myself once again. 

I’ll probably go get a professional diagnosis when I gain more independence (mostly financial) and can pay for therapy if i do so need (and if i feel like it tbh), which i hope is not the case and I don’t have anything rlly, but god if i am indeed mentally ill it will be the cherry on top of the cake of all the shit i’ve been through and explain why all these things have shaped me to be the way I am today. Not to mention, I wouldn’t trust my parents more cause it’s incredible how in denial they’ve always been of my mental condition, like god... really need a break.