#unlike some other ocd struggles of mine :')

[gossamer-green]

a lot of times i seriously doubt i have ocd, since i don't struggle with sudden intrusive thoughts

but then i'll be reminded that i Hate making circles with my whole being. literally. if i move in a circle, i physically Feel the need to reverse it so i "undo" it

i'll turn around, and my brain will say 'ok we have to turn the opposite direction next time.' or i'll be walking back home and go around something in the other direction, and my brain will be like 'you have to retrace where you came from you can't go around the other way!! ok well. then next time you go out you have to go around that way too and reset the path.'

and i will Feel the Wrongness of the Circle as a sensation in my entire body, and it'll only go away if i manage to ignore it long enough to forget it's there (until/unless i'm reminded of it) or if i undo the circle and "fix it", even though i'm well aware that my movement pattern is actually totally inconsequential

i'm not afraid of anything terrible happening if i don't undo the circle, the circle just has to be undone bc it's a circle and circles are Wrong. i think it's a balance/symmetry thing. like, i feel like i need to be in a Neutral state??

so weird and so absolutely unnecessary and so ocd, in the legitimate 'I Have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder' way and not the stupid 'teehee i'm sooo quirky 🤪' way

[c0smicfern]

in order for me to *actually* believe that i'm autistic, i need to rely on my intuition more than... you know. logic, facts, what i know about asd after *months* of research. is young fawn's intuition more credible than current fawn's months of research? fuck, dude, maybe. i have no idea anymore.

i originally had the thought when i was quite young. and then it kept happening over the years. when i got the sense that i was 'overreacting' to a sudden change or stimuli (which wasn't prompted by my environment, moreso just a gut feeling), i'd think, "it's that fucking spectre again. haunting my life." similar thing when my family would visit our cousins on my mom's side. one cousin in particular, i was especially close with growing up. idk if i feel comfortable going into detail on his traits, but i think i knew before anyone else. my mom tried to tell me that he's "ocd moreso than autistic" just a few months ago. like, no. i'm sorry, but no. idk if she & my aunt just never talked about him in that capacity, but it seems unlikely. i'm sure he has his rituals & genuine ocd symptoms, but he's literally been interested in the same video game character since we were kids. the franchise he's from is still in his most played & his avatar on his nintendo account is that character to this day. growing up with him, though, i just got this sense that, for all the distance between his experience & mine, we were the same. as i moved into middle school & started having even *more* struggles relating to or connecting with anyone, our connection actually started to make me feel resentful. wasn't his fault, and he was confused & upset when i said that i liked his brother more at that time. it was... sort of true, i guess. but only because i didn't feel that spectre looming over us in the company of his brother. in other words, i liked his brother better at the time because he was different from me. i didn't want to be reminded, not during that difficult part of my life. eventually, i got over myself & we went back to being close friends until we stopped visiting. now, i have to contend with the idea that i may have been distant from him for that period for *no fucking reason*. if we're *not* the same, then i was just needlesly cruel toward him for that part of our childhood. it was needlessly cruel, anyway, but it really served no purpose *at all* if that 'spectre' was only my imagination the whole time. it's a difficult thing to accept.

i thought *anyone* with a lived experience like mine had to be autistic before i even knew that word or what it meant. i mean, imagine "knowing" from such a young age, growing up & meeting other people like you & knowing that they were *like you* without needing to even speak. going through middle school & high school, counting the number of words you said each day & knowing that some days, that number was zero. upsetting others despite your best efforts to manage their emotions & be polite. not knowing whether you were actually being bullied or not, and realizing years later that people treated you like a freak from the moment they saw that spectre looming over you. always feeling like *normalcy* was just outside your reach, despite being able to 'see' it. watching others in an attempt to learn how to 'reach' it. despite it all, reaching the conclusion in adulthood that these experiences were just a patchwork of adhd symptoms, social anxiety, and a tendency to doubt yourself & the cruelty of others. burning out, and the quiet acceptance that kept these thoughts at bay just... fizzling out. and ultimately, knowing that the answer won't change anything for you. you've been broken either way, and you need to keep moving forward regardless.

[kyojuuros]

1, 2, 10, 11, 26, 28, 34 for the gif maker ask, please!

holy smokes anon that's a lot of options! 😂 Thank you for the ask lol

1. How did you get into graphics / gif making I started making gifs in 2015 because, while I tried my hand at writing fic, I ultimately found it... idk, not fulfilling, and I wanted a different way to contribute to fandom. I'm not very good at drawing, so I thought, why not try making gifs? I remember thinking how cool it was that people could do that and make them look so neat, so I decided to try it out for myself and I've never looked back. I really enjoy doing it!

2. Do you do something creative/related “irl” as well? I do not! This is purely a hobby of mine and I'm unlikely to do anything with it in the real world lol. I move boxes around in arctic conditions and stab people with needles for a living. 🥴

10. What graphics / gif trends do you dislike most? idk if there's any trends I particularly dislike, though I suppose there are some things I get bored with seeing (like the gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss thing, as an example). But it's more like I just get tired of seeing it, not necessarily that I dislike it.

11. What graphics / gif trends do you like most? I haven't seen as much of them lately but I really enjoy the cool like color-coded collages people have been doing for different series. It's just a really neat concept and I like collages in general. There's a nice visual appeal to breaking out of tumblr's 1/2/3 column default. lol I also understand how much work goes into those so I just find them impressive in general.

26. Give a graphic and or gif maker a quick tip! In general, and this might just be an OCD thing of mine, but I always recommend trying to cater your gifs to how they will look on the tumblr desktop dashboard whenever possible. I mainly point this one out in particular because I have seen quite a few sets recently where half the gifs won't load or won't move (but they will on mobile or on a tumblr user's actual page). I struggled with this issue on one of my recent sets and it was just a matter of deleting a few frames to get the gif working on the dashboard like it's supposed to. I know when I see smth where half the set isn't even working, it doesn't make me feel inclined to reblog it (which makes me feel bad cuz I wanna support everyone asfdhdfh). idk if it's just a bandwidth issue or what. The limit is 10MB but sometimes toeing that line will make or break whether that gif works or not. I try to always keep my gifs 9.5MB or less for this reason.

And I know this only warrants for a single tip, but unrelated to tumblr dashboard stuff, sharpening and surface blur can do WONDERS for the quality of your gifs! I recommend looking into these processes if you aren't sure how to do them already.

28. Advice for any beginner graphic / gif makers? Don't stress too much about how well your gifs look in comparison to more seasoned gif/gfx makers! I used to do this so much when I first started and it always made me feel really down about what I was creating. The point is just to have fun, first and foremost. You will learn things over time! Never be afraid to ask a gif/gfx maker about how they do things or what tools they use, I think most of us are willing to help! Look up tutorials, find resources that will help you enhance your gifs. Experiment with adjustment layers, patterns, overlays. Absolutely feel free to take inspo from others and mash together a bunch of different styles to form your own unique way of doing things. As long as you aren't making your creations a carbon copy, I think most of us like to see when we're inspiring other creators! It took years for me to figure out how to get my gifs the quality that they are - it's a process! Just enjoy learning new things and applying them to the things you already know. <3

34. Gif makers, how many frames do you import? (And why!) It really depends! I import videos into Photoshop directly and the little slider has set points where it lets you cut the part of the video file you want to work with, so most of the time I pull more frames than I need and have to delete the stuff around the shot I'm trying to gif. I try to get the entire shot whenever possible, so the amount of frames absolutely varies. Though, in general, I think I average anywhere between 80-150 frames on a regular basis. I've managed to get as many as over 300 frames in a single gif before though. LOL

Ask a gif/gfx maker!

[lcnglivcme-blog]

RULES;

Following; While I'll try to follow most blogs who follow me but, it won't mean everyone. Those I follow are always welcome to send in ask memes, message me or like my starter calls. If we aren't mutuals please avoid liking my starter calls. This isn't me meaning to be rude, this is, so I don't feel confused which will only lead to stress, and, then replies take longer on my end to arrive.

The mun: You could say I forgot to include this when I assumed I had. All you need to know is I'll be turning 29 this year, I've been doing this for....about....eleven years or, so. I can't remember really how that started or I just blocked out the awkward days. I've rped as Jerome before moving onto Jeremiah for the better part of three years since his arrival to the show, so it was easy to adapt to Jeremiah. Hence this blog.

The muse: Jeremiah is a prideful, manipulative piece of shit, so I won't 'dumb' down my muse for the sake, and value of yours. Keep in mind that the muse's thoughts, feelings and actions do NOT reflect my own.

Writing:  I'm not the biggest fan of oneliners. Some banter here and there is alright, but after a while I'll either get bored if I feel the thread is going nowhere or I sense there is, so much more our characters could be doing. The simple answer is what you give, I give. I will work for a reply if it's earned, but I won't work for what isn't earned.

Smut: Unlike my other muse Jerome, I find Jeremiah isn't very sexual. Which means when it comes to the deed I'm gonna be extremely selective. 

Godmodding: Godmod me, I godmod you. So, don't try that shit, fucker.

Posts: I'm just gonna say it. Please,  please cut your posts if you're interacting with me. Otherwise I'll just ignore your reply if this request isn't met. No offense.

Ships: I find it VERY unlikely you'll see it, if you do see him approaching that stage with anyone the chances are it's him messing with their feelings, making them doubt stuff or making them feel guilty. Like sorta of like...not an actual relationship....not the kind that says I love you, you love me, we're happy bla, bla, bla. More like if he could be close to anyone it would be a "you're gonna use me and I'm gonna use you, kill me and I kill you, but the sex is incredible and we're only hanging around each other for that". I hope that makes sense.

Things I'm LIKELY to ship: Jeremiah x Ecco and Jeremiah x Harley. Things I WON'T ship: Jeremiah X Bruce.

I am open to other ships aswell, but I've already explained how things like that could go down, and I have warned you it won't be your run of the mill relationship. In fact if you choose to ship with this muse it will probably become very toxic. But that's who Jeremiah is...he tends to hurt anyone, and everyone.

But please DO NOT attempt to force a ship on me just, because you might ship something with a twin muse of mine or whatever. Not everyone thinks the same way or sees certain ships the same way. You're better off asking, and not just simply reading this to be sure.

Length spent online:  I'm a pretty busy person. And due to work and study keeping me sidetracked with real life I often struggle to keep up pace, please do not pressure me to answer your thread or pull the whole 'poor me nobody loves me act'. I won't buy it. I will reply when I feel like replying. I'm not sorry if that sounds harsh, but as someone suffering from bio-polar, ocd, depression, and anxiety the smallest things can make me go into a shell, I can remain locked in for days. Even if I appear online during that time. Just like you I must write at my own pace.

Don't be a dickhead: It's easier enough to understand, it doesn't need explaining. I've seen, so many over the years and roleplaying never gives you a free past to be a shithead to others, even if your muse may be one. Trust me people ain't stupid they can tell the difference if it's you channeling yourself through the muse or you trying to live up to your muse. So, just don't fucking do it, alright? If you don't like someone? Avoid them and don't waste your time. For every asshole you see, you'll find a decent person. Focus on the latter.

If I feel more rules need to be included, this will be updated. For now I hope it's worth the look at, and that it didn't take too much of your time. Please don't take any of this personally as it is my preference after all. 

[ryinkelsin]

I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder...

            I know what you’re thinking. I must be really clean right? I’m germaphobic. I will say that I’m clean but any more than a so called “normal” person. I do like things in a certain order. For example, my closet is organized to my specific liking but there’s so much more to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Not all of us fear germs and are what you like to call neat freaks. It is fair to say that some do. I know there are other like myself who do compulsively clean but for me that side only really comes out at work. So here, I’m going to break down the truth about how my brain works for you. It’s much more than the stereotypes you’ve come to believe.

 OBSESSIVE

             For someone with OCD this is a word we are familiar with. We understand it more than the average person. So, here’s how it works. You’re going on about your day as normal when suddenly your mind shows you something that disturbs you. For example, sometimes when I enter a building I imagine my fingers being crushed in the door I’m walking through or when I’m cutting open boxes at work a flash image of slicing my hand open enters my mind. These pictures are called intrusive thoughts and I have to live with them daily. I’m sure the two I just mention don’t see that serious to you but that’s because of a few reasons.

First, those were some of the milder ones. I’ve had more disturbing ones, like my mom running over her dog. It never happened but I thought it would. Second, It’s not a one-time thing. The image or thought continues to show in your mind and the more you ignore it, the more persistent it becomes. It becomes something you start to fear. Once your mind creates this scenario there is no getting rid of it. It demands that you pay attention to it and you have no choice but to comply.

People who don’t fully understand always offer the advice ‘Just don’t think about it.’ That’s not as simple as it sounds and trust me if I could just not think about it I would but that isn’t an option for someone like me. I bet you’re still wondering where the word obsessive comes into play and it’s here. Basically this is all fear based. Your brain convinces you that this terrible thing will happen and you believe it whole heartily. Most of the time it’s something totally ridiculous, like the sun falling out of the sky and killing you. This isn’t actually one of my fears but you get the idea. You start to obsess over this thought until it becomes the only think you are able to think about. This leads to one of two things, a full blown panic attack or a compulsion. Neither thing is good.

 COMPLUSIVE

             Here’s where the cleaning stereotype comes into play. It’s not uncommon for someone to have a cleaning compulsion. I admit that on multiple occasions I’ve cleaned my entire apartment from top to bottom. Like the day I took everything out of the fridge, shelves and all, to clean it but not everyone has this exact compulsion. Mine tends to lean more towards organization. I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong. Cleaning and organization are similar but they are not the same. For example, for Christmas my aunt gave me a bunch of her books. I spent twenty minutes trying to line them up exactly the way I needed them to be. Sometimes my brain says if it’s not perfect it’s wrong and it’ll will continue to bother you until you’ve fixed it. Another great example was dinner last night. I couldn’t eat my meal until the plate was exactly in the middle of the place mat and the fork and knife were even on each side of the plate. I also had to separate the food into perfect sections. Everything is a routine and everything has an order. There’s just no way around it. The thing about compulsions is, we don’t necessarily want to do them but we have to. Your brain tells you if you don’t line the books up straight something bad will happen. It all ties into your fears.

           Compulsions happen because it distracts your mind from the thing you are afraid of. If you’re focusing all your attention on deep cleaning behind the oven or locking and unlocking the door eleven times, you aren’t thinking about what you’re scared will happen. That’s why these habits and rituals become vital to our daily lives. I can honestly tell you that I have some compulsions that I don’t fully understand. For example, I have the extreme need to change my socks at least four times a day and I’m terrified of placing my barefoot on the floor. I also must have a rubber band around my wrist at all times. Why you ask. I have no idea. There is just a voice in my head that says I have to. This voice convinces me that something terrible will happen if I don’t have one. I once had a boss you told me I couldn’t wear them and had to take them off. I responded by saying no. Just the mere thought of taking them off made me feeling panicked, so I wasn’t going to actually do it.  

           The thing is we are completely aware that these routines are ridiculous. We wish just as much as you do that we didn’t have to perform them but the urge to do so it too strong to fight. As much as we hate it, we would much rather just perform the task and move on from it, then try to battle it. Fighting it just leads to a panic attack which is extremely unpleasant.

 PANIC ATTACKS

             For someone who has never experienced this, consider yourself lucky because it is hell. Your hands shake, your muscles tighten, you’re in tears and you can’t breathe. It literally feels like you’re suffocating at times. This is what happens, you get your intrusive thought, then your brain tells you what compulsion to do but you don’t do it. Instead you try to force the image to go away, which never usually works. This starts the panic throughout your body. Once you’ve reached that point there is no stopping it. No compulsion will make this go away because now you’ve sent your mind on a downward spiral. You feel every muscle in your body tense up and your breathing quickens to the point that you feel like your chest is caving in. It can literally feel like you’re dying and most of the time we actually think that is happening. I usually end up in the fetal position, bawling like an idiot and feeling like the world is crashing down around me.

           There are only a couple solutions when you’ve reached this state. You can either take antianxiety medication or suffer through it. Medication is a good quick fix but, at least in my case, those meds make me feel groggy. Suffering through it is brutal but possible. Anxiety doesn’t last forever. It will eventually peak and then go down. It’s getting there, that is the problem.

           The worst thing about anxiety, whether it is caused by OCD or some other anxiety disorder, is there isn’t always a reason for it happening. Sometimes panic attacks come out of nowhere. The worst thing you can do when dealing with someone going through this is ask them what’s wrong. There isn’t always a reason, which can actually make the attack worse. Once a random attack happens you start to panic more, simply because you don’t understand where it’s coming from. Then you’re panicking because you’re panicking. It makes no sense I know but it happens. The more you push on someone that there must be a reason, the more panicked they will become. Instead, help them feel secure. Tell them they are safe and that you’re there. Help them slow down their breathing. Those things are crucial.

For someone with OCD, the panic could be caused but a sudden loss of control. I have specific routines that I preform every day. When they aren’t performed in the right order or I miss something I’m thrown off. It causes an easiness I can’t shake. I become agitated and stressed. Control is a big part of OCD. We tend to micromanage every aspect of our lives and when it doesn’t go the way we planned it, we fall apart. Everything becomes increasingly overwhelming and we can’t handle it. I will say though there is a perk to being like this. I can time manage beautifully. Time management has a lot to do with having game plan, which I am a big fan of. Sometimes routines are helpful but most of the time for someone like myself, it starts to control your life.

 These are the daily struggles I have and hopefully now you understand that being clean doesn’t make someone OCD. So next time you say ‘I’m so OCD because I like my towels folded a certain way.’ Remember that’s not what OCD is. To be perfectly honest here, I do like my towels folded a specific way but unlike you if folded the wrong way it causes an uneasy/panic type feeling. I’m sure you just readjust them and move on. I will fold and refold until the feeling goes away. It’s not something you can just shove off. It’s so much more than that. Don’t judge us when we count things or avoid cracks in the sidewalks. Don’t tell us we are being stupid. We know it’s stupid but that doesn’t change the fact that we have to do it. Don’t tell us that it’s no big deal because to us it’s earth shattering.

It took me a while to get here but I’m no longer ashamed of my illness. I’ve learned that it’s just a part of who I am. I’m not the only one and there is help out there. Fortunately for me I have amazing family and friends who support me. I’ve explained this to multiple people that I know and they see my OCD differently. For those people who have taken the time to listen to us and try to actually understand, kudos to you. We need more people like you in the world.

For those people who laugh and respond by saying ‘I understand. I’m so OCD about (whatever it is that you’re particular about)’ You are not OCD. You don’t understand. Trust me, you don’t want the thoughts that I have and you honestly have no clue what you’re talking about. If you actually experienced what goes on in my head, you would wonder how I live through it every day. It’s difficult but I manage. It’s something you learn to handle over time, with the help of therapy, your support system, and/or medication.  

For those of you still suffering through this and trying yourself to understand please know you are not alone. There are lots of us and we understand. 

S3�0+��

[felixeberstark-blog]

January 24, 2015

Numbness is taking over me; it’s torturing me. Everyday I go through the same self-scrutinizing process. Waking up, “What the hell is wrong with me?” Showering, “Why am I such an awful person?” Trying to pay attention in class, “Fuck, my conscience is seriously a hot mess right now.” Routine: I hate it. This vicious circle I feel trapped in is pretty much part of my life right now. The scariest thing by far was my recent revelation of a weird behavior. A disorder. There is something wrong with me. Me. But it’s not my fault. I don’t think I was born this way. I’m a victim. I’m the nasty result of failed parenting. My stupid parents brought me to this world and damaged every part of me. They raised me as if I was the main reason behind their happiness, and then they disowned me. They made me feel like I was at the top of the world, like I was the only thing that mattered to them. I was the boy. And then I wasn’t anymore. I became a normal child; an object they tried to make something out of. They wanted me to achieve the things they never had the chance to achieve, and when I couldn’t, they turned their backs on me. They looked at me with sympathy to make me feel like I was loved. And they felt bad because I wasn’t going be as special as my sister. I guess it’s never too late, though. I will make something out of myself. I will do whatever I see fit to get ahead. I will lie to impress people and thrive to feel accepted. I will let them see a fabricated and cool construction of myself, as well as how clever and witty I can be. I will read plenty of books and do a lot of research to prove my intelligence. I will build a facade; a perfect double version of me. An alter ego. I will make them trust this non-existent and fake entity; this empty shell of a human being walking around like a ghost. I will make sure I don’t disappoint them. I never want to be seen in a vulnerable and pathetic light ever again. If anyone thinks I am a complete idiot, I could just die! At this point I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.  As I had predicted, the last few months in Freiburg were nothing but a hassle. Even after I got here, I wasn’t immediately convinced by my decision. The thrill and build-up leading to my departure was nothing but exciting. However, when I finally made it here, I quickly started having doubts. I’m giving this a chance, though. Going back home at this point isn’t an option.  The day I left, my parents dropped me off at the airport early in the morning. I struggled to express any sincere emotions as I hugged each of them and said my goodbyes; my mom was acting leery and was emotionally detached which got me almost worried while dad was more cheerful and easygoing about the whole process. I walked through security and checked in before walking to my gate and stood in the waiting line when the time for boarding was announced. When the employee scanned my ticket, she happily announced to me that I was randomly upgraded to first class. On the plane, I walked to my seat which wasn’t hard to find. It was large and had enough room for me to sit down and be comfortable. Soon, a man showed up and sat down on the other side. He was dressed sharply in a navy suit and introduced himself as William Ford, an entrepreneur and chief of an escort agency. I was a bit uncomfortable by his upfront and provocative approach. As he talked more and more about his business, I could tell the reason he brought it up was clearly a way for him to see whether or not I’d be responsive or show any kind of interest. I guess he thought I did since he eventually popped the question and asked if I’d be interested in working with him. At first, I didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered by his offer, but since I had already started prostituting myself months prior, I didn’t want to act like a hypocrite, but still rebuffed his proposition. I took his card, though, and the rest of the flight went smoothly; both of us individually keeping to ourselves.  Coming here was pretty easy, and unlike a lot of other immigrants who suffer from cultural clash, I’m pretty adaptable. There’s so much going on in America; so much innovation and constant change. There’s a very dynamic energy here that Europe, specifically Freiburg, lacked. Iowa City might not be the perfect example of a fast and growing country that never stops, but it being a university town, you can feel the underlying existence of a vibrant lifestyle; one that has no room for boredom. I’m very fortunate to have been able to escape from home and move somewhere far away, and I feel like the possibilities for a clean slate are endless. I’m very excited for the start of a new life.  Upon my arrival, I was greeted by Ryan at the airport; he had a cute, colorful sign saying, “Welcome Felix” that I’m definitely keeping. We drove to a coffee shop where I met his boyfriend, Tye. Our conversation could’ve went on and on, but I was too exhausted and needed to make it to Joey’s apartment during the specific time frame we agreed on the day before.  I found Joey on an Iowa City site that provides local classifieds and forums for jobs, housing and merchandise among other things. I needed an apartment to stay at temporarily while I searched for a one-bedroom somewhere else. I could’ve done that online before I moved, but I didn’t want to make any commitments by picking a place relying only on photographs and wanted to personally check out my options when I got here. It would’ve been easier for me to move into a dorm, but they cost more than an apartment off campus. Joey’s request conveniently coincided with mine; we’ve chatted briefly a few weeks before my move so he could get a sense of what kind of person I was, and he agreed to have me move in.  As Tye helped carry my luggage upstairs, Ryan stopped me and discreetly handed me the fake ID I requested that had my age at twenty-one; it was the only way for me to get into clubs and drink alcohol. His friend Seth was the one who provided it and I was expected to pay $200 in exchange for it. Ryan had already given him the money and so I owed him that, but he was nice enough to give me some time to collect the amount when I finally had it. Also, he confessed to me about Tye’s close-mindedness when it came down to illicit activities; that came back to when Tye met him at a very difficult time in his life and helped him get back on his feet after going through dark times of hopelessness and depression, giving him a home and providing him with a safe and normal life environment.  As I unpacked, a successive set of images of my mom shoving clothes in my bags kept flashing before my eyes. It’s like she wanted me gone not because she hated me, but because she didn’t want to process the grief that came with my departure. She wanted me out of the picture. The week before I left, she made me put away everything I had in my bedroom in boxes she transferred down to the basement. It’s like she didn’t even want to acknowledge I ever existed. For months, she thought I’d change my mind, but my stubborn decisiveness proved otherwise and since I was never one to carry on with such drastic life decisions, she never thought I’d be strong enough to take the initiative and move. Clearly, she didn’t know how much I resented living with her and dad. Being around them was a blockage to all my efforts to get out of my shell and take full control over my life.  On the other hand, it didn’t take me long to conclude that living with Joey would be a challenge. I have a feeling I won’t survive living with him past the first few months; he has strict rules, a serious case of OCD, and I could easily sense his friendliness is fake; he just needed a roommate so he could temporarily manage his apartment’s rent since he recently quit his job working at a comic book store and is in the process of finding another one. He’s very territorial, and my presence seems to be nothing but a nuisance to him. I’m moving forward with my search for an apartment starting tomorrow.

[wincestshippingtrash2]

Cie’s Year-End Wrap-Up 2018

Image copyright Conger Design

I love the above image. Back in the late 1990s, I went to school for one semester for graphic design but dropped out. I didn't know it at the time, but I had untreated type 2 bipolar disorder, OCD, and borderline personality disorder, three exciting co-morbid conditions which happen to feed each other in ways that are just, shall we say, really special. I wouldn't be properly diagnosed until 2004.

When I think of how many years were wasted mired in shame and stigma because I had no idea in this Universe what was going on with me, I thought I was just an attention-seeking fuckup, it makes me very angry. Granted, some of the tools available to me now simply didn't exist when I was younger. E-commerce was in its infancy in the 1990s. There were no smartphones. 

Hell, even GPS was still in its infancy. (I still have my TomTom Go.) The job I have today could not have existed in the 1990s. Back when dinosaurs and Ronald Reagan roamed the Earth in 1984, I delivered pizzas. Even the TomTom Go was as yet unheard of. How the hell my dyslexic ass didn't get lost more often, I'll never know. When I think of trying to do my job without Waze, it gives me that feeling of waking up with a start after a terrible dream and praising whatever powers there might be that the dream isn't real.

So, I didn't initially come here to talk to you about type 2 bipolar disorder, but now that I've thought about it, I want to talk about it. This is how people tend to think of bipolar disorder, and it's a reasonably accurate depiction of type 1 bipolar disorder.

Image Source

The post that the image comes from is worth reading.

The late Patty Duke had type 1 bipolar disorder. She is a personal heroine of mine. Her book, Call Me Anna, helped me understand better the things that I had gone through and to help me forgive myself for some of the truly awful decisions I made while hypomanic. 

Being diagnosed with type 2 bipolar disorder helped me understand why I had seen some features of bipolar disorder in myself but was convinced that I didn't have it because I'd never experienced a full mania. I tended to go from crushingly depressed to positive and overly functional. I never flew off to Vegas and got married to a guy I barely knew or anything of that nature, although I did convince myself several times that the Universe wanted me to be with guys who raised red flags like nobody's business and who, unsurprisingly, turned out to be horrible and abusive.

When I was hypomanic, I would take on second jobs and be the world's greatest employee that everyone loved until everything came crashing down and everyone ended up thinking I was the world's biggest flake and fuckup. I would be mired in depression which felt like being at the bottom of a dark pit that there was no way out of. 

When I would finally, miraculously, find myself pulled out of that pit, I would admonish myself that from now on I would be positive and productive and would never go back THERE again. When I inevitably went back there again, I would shame and berate myself for being a worthless fuckup.

Click to enlarge. 

This is a fairly standard bipolar disorder screening questionnaire. It tends to miss people with type 2 bipolar disorder.

Was there ever a period of time when I wasn't myself? No. I was always myself, although I often didn't like it very much. 

The late Peter Steele of Type O Negative, who had type 1 bipolar disorder, describes reflecting on occasions following a manic episode where he felt that there was something he could have learned from the time in question if only he could remember it. I never experienced anything like that.

I've never presented as talking extremely fast or seeming particularly hyper. I've never slept well anyway, so the "sleeping less than usual" criteria didn't send up any red flags. The late Julia Lennon described having periods where she wouldn't sleep for a week at a time, and doctors didn't know what was wrong with her. She was institutionalized on several occasions.

I did get involved in ill-advised relationships with abusive guys, but I never flew off to Vegas to do so. I took on multiple jobs and then crashed, often losing all of my jobs. When I was good, I was very very good, and when I was bad I was nonfunctional. 

I speak openly about my mental health struggles because I would be very happy if no-one else ever had to fight the way I've had to fight. I've been told that I should keep my psych problems hidden because people would avoid me if they knew I was one of THEM. I was told I would never find a job if people knew I'd been to a therapist. 

I was also told that I was "just being dramatic," that I needed to "stop seeking attention," that I was "just being lazy," and that I brought all my problems on myself with my "negative thinking." I can tell you that none of these criticisms did a damn thing to help me improve my life or to do anything except hide my problems and hate myself because I was never able to develop any decent coping skills for dealing with them until I was in my middle years. At this point, I'm still cleaning up the messes made by attempting to hide my problems, such as a storage unit full of stuff and a mountain of debt.

We've come a long way when it comes to mental illness in Western society, but we haven't come far enough. There is still a tendency to see people with mental issues as less intelligent or less capable or as loose cannons just waiting to explode and harm others. The truth is, people who live with mental illness are more likely to be victims of violence than to perpetrate violence.

There is a tendency to see jobs such as mine as "lesser" and to believe that the working poor, unemployed, and homeless "deserve" to not have basic amenities or a living wage. This needs to end. Everybody deserves the basic amenities, whether or not they are capable of working a "normal" job or at all.

I heard the term "lazy" so many times that I ended up with a terrible complex about taking breaks or doing things that are purely enjoyable and will never turn a profit. I once read a statement from a counselor which said that the term "lazy" should be replaced with "demotivated," because asking a person why they are so lazy shuts down the conversation and thus any chance of helping the person, whereas asking them why they are feeling demotivated leaves the conversation open and may help create a plan for helping them.

Exploitative shows like "Hoarders" should not exist. Like, at all. Capitalizing on people's illness for entertainment is twisted and barbaric. Hoarding is a subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder. It is the symptom of malfunction in a certain area of the brain. It is not "laziness." Dealing with hoarding tendencies is exhausting, time-consuming, and life-destroying. People with hoarding tendencies need help from a compassionate professional, not a bunch of lookie-loos seeking schadenfreude at another's expense.

My son is helping me deal with the lifetime of hoarding without help contained in my storage units and the closets and spare rooms of the mobile home that I hope to have in a condition where I can think about selling it by the end of next year. With his help, the storage unit, which is about the size of a one-car garage, is 1/3 of the way clear at this point, and we are hoping to have it entirely clear by June of 2019. 

My late father attempted to "help with cleaning," but his help really only traumatized me and made me feel more ashamed, which didn't lead to me keeping up with the process. My son is understanding when I tell him that I can't deal with a certain item at the moment and we'll need to put it aside. We move on to the next thing. He also suggests creating scrapbooks and art from my vast collection of images from magazines, unlike my father, who told me that "anything that lands on the floor needs to be thrown in the garbage."

My father had piles of papers and magazines all over his house. He had OCD with hoarding tendencies too, but he came from an era when one locked their mental health issues in an attic and never spoke of them. This helped nothing, which is why I have come out of the attic and am speaking openly about my struggles.

For years I refused to make New Year's resolutions because I had learned to equate them with "new you in 52" crap, which really benefits no-one but the billion-dollar diet industry. I refuse to have or promote weight loss as a "health goal." 

I spent 33 years in yo-yo dieting hell trying to hate myself thin. There is no way I'm going to endorse that behavior. I'm going batshit at this point with all the blogs in my sidebar promoting "get paid to lose weight" garbage. You'll never see me promoting these things because dieting inevitably fails for everyone but statistical unicorns.

Diets don't work. Health at Every Size works. If you want to start exercising, increase the amount you're exercising, or eat fewer processed foods, great, but do it for overall health, not for weight loss.

We'll all be a "new you in 52" anyway. We'll have new experiences behind us, and many of our cells will have been replaced by new ones. Don't buy into the "new you in 52" crap. It only leads to frustration. Instead, pursue things that will lead to a more authentic you. 

Your authentic you has nothing to do with a number on the scale or even the amount of money in your bank account. It is the you who is true to themselves, which has nothing to do with looks or status at all.

Best wishes in the coming year,

Cie

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[netherworldwritersguild]

Cie's Year-End Wrap-Up 2018

Image copyright Conger Design

I love the above image. Back in the late 1990s, I went to school for one semester for graphic design but dropped out. I didn't know it at the time, but I had untreated type 2 bipolar disorder, OCD, and borderline personality disorder, three exciting co-morbid conditions which happen to feed each other in ways that are just, shall we say, really special. I wouldn't be properly diagnosed until 2004.

When I think of how many years were wasted mired in shame and stigma because I had no idea in this Universe what was going on with me, I thought I was just an attention-seeking fuckup, it makes me very angry. Granted, some of the tools available to me now simply didn't exist when I was younger. E-commerce was in its infancy in the 1990s. There were no smartphones. 

Hell, even GPS was still in its infancy. (I still have my TomTom Go.) The job I have today could not have existed in the 1990s. Back when dinosaurs and Ronald Reagan roamed the Earth in 1984, I delivered pizzas. Even the TomTom Go was as yet unheard of. How the hell my dyslexic ass didn't get lost more often, I'll never know. When I think of trying to do my job without Waze, it gives me that feeling of waking up with a start after a terrible dream and praising whatever powers there might be that the dream isn't real.

So, I didn't initially come here to talk to you about type 2 bipolar disorder, but now that I've thought about it, I want to talk about it. This is how people tend to think of bipolar disorder, and it's a reasonably accurate depiction of type 1 bipolar disorder.

Image Source

The post that the image comes from is worth reading.

The late Patty Duke had type 1 bipolar disorder. She is a personal heroine of mine. Her book, Call Me Anna, helped me understand better the things that I had gone through and to help me forgive myself for some of the truly awful decisions I made while hypomanic. 

Being diagnosed with type 2 bipolar disorder helped me understand why I had seen some features of bipolar disorder in myself but was convinced that I didn't have it because I'd never experienced a full mania. I tended to go from crushingly depressed to positive and overly functional. I never flew off to Vegas and got married to a guy I barely knew or anything of that nature, although I did convince myself several times that the Universe wanted me to be with guys who raised red flags like nobody's business and who, unsurprisingly, turned out to be horrible and abusive.

When I was hypomanic, I would take on second jobs and be the world's greatest employee that everyone loved until everything came crashing down and everyone ended up thinking I was the world's biggest flake and fuckup. I would be mired in depression which felt like being at the bottom of a dark pit that there was no way out of. 

When I would finally, miraculously, find myself pulled out of that pit, I would admonish myself that from now on I would be positive and productive and would never go back THERE again. When I inevitably went back there again, I would shame and berate myself for being a worthless fuckup.

Click to enlarge. 

This is a fairly standard bipolar disorder screening questionnaire. It tends to miss people with type 2 bipolar disorder.

Was there ever a period of time when I wasn't myself? No. I was always myself, although I often didn't like it very much. 

The late Peter Steele of Type O Negative, who had type 1 bipolar disorder, describes reflecting on occasions following a manic episode where he felt that there was something he could have learned from the time in question if only he could remember it. I never experienced anything like that.

I've never presented as talking extremely fast or seeming particularly hyper. I've never slept well anyway, so the "sleeping less than usual" criteria didn't send up any red flags. The late Julia Lennon described having periods where she wouldn't sleep for a week at a time, and doctors didn't know what was wrong with her. She was institutionalized on several occasions.

I did get involved in ill-advised relationships with abusive guys, but I never flew off to Vegas to do so. I took on multiple jobs and then crashed, often losing all of my jobs. When I was good, I was very very good, and when I was bad I was nonfunctional. 

I speak openly about my mental health struggles because I would be very happy if no-one else ever had to fight the way I've had to fight. I've been told that I should keep my psych problems hidden because people would avoid me if they knew I was one of THEM. I was told I would never find a job if people knew I'd been to a therapist. 

I was also told that I was "just being dramatic," that I needed to "stop seeking attention," that I was "just being lazy," and that I brought all my problems on myself with my "negative thinking." I can tell you that none of these criticisms did a damn thing to help me improve my life or to do anything except hide my problems and hate myself because I was never able to develop any decent coping skills for dealing with them until I was in my middle years. At this point, I'm still cleaning up the messes made by attempting to hide my problems, such as a storage unit full of stuff and a mountain of debt.

We've come a long way when it comes to mental illness in Western society, but we haven't come far enough. There is still a tendency to see people with mental issues as less intelligent or less capable or as loose cannons just waiting to explode and harm others. The truth is, people who live with mental illness are more likely to be victims of violence than to perpetrate violence.

There is a tendency to see jobs such as mine as "lesser" and to believe that the working poor, unemployed, and homeless "deserve" to not have basic amenities or a living wage. This needs to end. Everybody deserves the basic amenities, whether or not they are capable of working a "normal" job or at all.

I heard the term "lazy" so many times that I ended up with a terrible complex about taking breaks or doing things that are purely enjoyable and will never turn a profit. I once read a statement from a counselor which said that the term "lazy" should be replaced with "demotivated," because asking a person why they are so lazy shuts down the conversation and thus any chance of helping the person, whereas asking them why they are feeling demotivated leaves the conversation open and may help create a plan for helping them.

Exploitative shows like "Hoarders" should not exist. Like, at all. Capitalizing on people's illness for entertainment is twisted and barbaric. Hoarding is a subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder. It is the symptom of malfunction in a certain area of the brain. It is not "laziness." Dealing with hoarding tendencies is exhausting, time-consuming, and life-destroying. People with hoarding tendencies need help from a compassionate professional, not a bunch of lookie-loos seeking schadenfreude at another's expense.

My son is helping me deal with the lifetime of hoarding without help contained in my storage units and the closets and spare rooms of the mobile home that I hope to have in a condition where I can think about selling it by the end of next year. With his help, the storage unit, which is about the size of a one-car garage, is 1/3 of the way clear at this point, and we are hoping to have it entirely clear by June of 2019. 

My late father attempted to "help with cleaning," but his help really only traumatized me and made me feel more ashamed, which didn't lead to me keeping up with the process. My son is understanding when I tell him that I can't deal with a certain item at the moment and we'll need to put it aside. We move on to the next thing. He also suggests creating scrapbooks and art from my vast collection of images from magazines, unlike my father, who told me that "anything that lands on the floor needs to be thrown in the garbage."

My father had piles of papers and magazines all over his house. He had OCD with hoarding tendencies too, but he came from an era when one locked their mental health issues in an attic and never spoke of them. This helped nothing, which is why I have come out of the attic and am speaking openly about my struggles.

For years I refused to make New Year's resolutions because I had learned to equate them with "new you in 52" crap, which really benefits no-one but the billion-dollar diet industry. I refuse to have or promote weight loss as a "health goal." 

I spent 33 years in yo-yo dieting hell trying to hate myself thin. There is no way I'm going to endorse that behavior. I'm going batshit at this point with all the blogs in my sidebar promoting "get paid to lose weight" garbage. You'll never see me promoting these things because dieting inevitably fails for everyone but statistical unicorns.

Diets don't work. Health at Every Size works. If you want to start exercising, increase the amount you're exercising, or eat fewer processed foods, great, but do it for overall health, not for weight loss.

We'll all be a "new you in 52" anyway. We'll have new experiences behind us, and many of our cells will have been replaced by new ones. Don't buy into the "new you in 52" crap. It only leads to frustration. Instead, pursue things that will lead to a more authentic you. 

Your authentic you has nothing to do with a number on the scale or even the amount of money in your bank account. It is the you who is true to themselves, which has nothing to do with looks or status at all.

Best wishes in the coming year,

Cie

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