mychemicalrant

[mychemicalrant]

Thoughts on Anxiety

I've been giving some thought to the nature of anxiety and how it takes hold in our perception. Examining the behavior of those who don't experience anxiety reveals that they don't appear to feel overwhelmed or inundated by the world. It seems as though they feel the world is dependable, reliable, consistent, and structured enough that they can grow up within it trusting that all will be well, or what isn't well will follow predictable patterns and can be dealt with. Ultimately, everything makes sense and because of that, there is no real reason to fear. For people with anxiety (and neurodivergence or related conditions), the world feels disordered, at times nonsensical, and frightening. That fear must be mitigated in some way or other, and at the end of it we realize our mitigation has caused more problems than the thing we feared itself. As an example, I think most people who are comfortable driving rate themselves as good drivers, but at the very least, they understand that they can address anything unexpected that happens in the moment. They can rely on themselves to respond, to deal with what occurs, without getting overwhelmed by the surprise of it. There is no situation they can encounter while driving that they can't handle, and this knowledge keeps them confident even when they face an unexpected scenario. For people whose anxiety affects their ability to drive, it doesn't feel that way. It feels like WAM POP UP this and WAM POP UP that, a constant barrage of obstacles that you merely survive each time, if you're lucky, but you may not be lucky the next time. And if you make a mistake, you could die. Someone else could die. It could ruin your life. And living with that constant intense uncertainty about the unpredictability of life and how disempowered you are in the face of what is unknown is what fuels anxiety. Anxiety treatment is about becoming more familiar with scenarios you feel are unknowable and scary to show yourself that they are not unknowable and that you can handle them. It's about getting to that place of comfort and tolerance of uncertainty in the world that everyone else enjoys. It's about not allowing the potential for bad events to dominate your expectation of reality. I've been giving a lot of thought to what my anxiety has taken away from me and what my life would be like if it hadn't. It was a slow descent from general independence to being more or less housebound. Over the years I have fallen into the pattern of thinking that I'm right, the world is dangerous, and my anxiety serves to protect me from that danger. But I look at those around me and observe the trust and confidence they feel in the world around them. Why do they have that trust and I don't? I've been reflecting on that lately. Do they not realize how scary death is, how serious insert-devastating-event is? How uncertain and out of control it all is? But I don't think that's true. I think it's that they feel the world makes a fundamental kind of sense, and once you grow up and learn the general rules (like with driving), you pretty much just go out and do your best and don't worry about the rest. And for these people, it turns out okay. It may not turn out well, but whatever happens makes sense.

#anxiety #anxiety thoughts #mental health #actuallyanxious #anxiety recovery #anxiety coping

[mychemicalrant]

Cognitive Distortions

Yesterday I had a high stress, high contact, sensory-challenging type of day, and the whole time I was fixating on when I could once again get to my sanctuary: my bed, where I feel like I have the most control and security. I ate quickly, moved quickly, went through my day processing my tasks quickly so I could get it over with, and it made me think about my cognitive distortion towards finality. This might be an autism thing, or maybe just a me thing, but I have a habit of seeing things in their final form, their final destination, skipping everything in the middle. If the end result is a finished product, I want to rush to get it done. If the end result is me getting into bed, I want to hasten to that state. If the end result is my friend leaving, it’s as if the visit hadn’t happened at all. If the end result is me being dead, for the rest of eternity...I’m already dead. I am the walking dead. I am waiting to die, just whittling away the time until I’m finally out of existence. My ultimate state. There’s no in-between. It’s just me rushing from one task, one obligation, one activity to the next, rushing to its ultimate state of being finished or eaten or accomplished or dead. I cry about losing the people I love before they actually die in anticipation of the finality and permanency of their death.  I worry about things getting broken or used down to nothing when I’ve just bought them. Everything is just this ghost of its former self, a memory, even when it is brand new. You can see the problem with this thinking. Part of it is, to use MBTI language, a J problem of needing closure. Part of it is Ni, anticipating the most likely future and executing the most efficient path to that outcome. Of course, if my “ultimate” state is to end up back in my bed for the night, I find myself waking and having to get out of it. If my “ultimate” state is to have finished my laundry For All Time, Finally And Forever...a week later, I have a pile of dirty laundry again. Life is cyclical, not a line. How do I get myself out of the distortion of focusing on finality, rather than renewal?

#cognitive distortions #mental health #autism #ASD #actuallyautistic #thoughts #OCD thoughts #INTJ

[mychemicalrant]

OCD is

Contamination OCD is this vicious cycle between avoiding cleaning tasks and getting stuck in cleaning and recleaning and checking and recleaning loops that last so long it’s not even worth it to move anymore. People don’t talk as much about the mobility and accessibility issues that can result from this, but it can be so physically debilitating (not leaving the house, having to wager how much outside contamination you can manage coming into contact with, having to calculate how many things you’ll come in contact with in order to carry out a task, avoiding tasks that require too much contact, etc.) It gets so tiring.

#ocd #actuallyocd #contamination #ocdproblems #actuallymentallyill

[mychemicalrant]

Getting it on Both Ends

There’s kind of a weird emotional set of walls that someone with aspergers has to walk between. On the one hand, we are visibly set apart from everyone else through our appearance, behavior, interests, etc. On the other hand, we’re not visible enough, so we get accused of all manner of ill intent. This plays out in the following ways:

Wow, you’re autistic.

So I recently went on an interstate trip that, while challenging in many respects (lots of socializing with strangers, changing sleeping environments), went surprisingly well. My dad and I then met up with some old family friends of his, people who had known me since before I was born. They have a stunning, beautiful, amazing, accomplished, incredibly gifted and experienced 19 year old neurotypical daughter who they couldn’t be more proud of. Like, this kid was a superstar in high school and in their little community with friends, boyfriends, admirers from all over. Now she’s working with children and going to college for a degree in Awesome Incredible Career. I...am a 30+ year old job-challenged newly diagnosed autistic with few friends, no car, and have just moved back in with my parent. Suffice it to say my self esteem was a little low. I’ll admit, by this part in the trip I was incredibly weary of traveling and socializing. We had taken this very cross-country trip 15 years ago to see these same people and I remember having a panic attack the whole week from being so far from home, but that’s another story. My point is, I was visibly off. I went outside to spend time by myself, I stimmed like crazy, I drank ungodly amounts of beer, I ate a ton (because eating is readily available and encouraged in that part of the country), and I hyperfocused on a few of my travel interests. I’m a huge fan of collecting things and I like to collect certain things while I’m on the road, so I ended up dragging everyone along to search for these items.

Things were going pretty well, I guess, but in the back of my mind I was stressing. Was I coming off too weird? Too excited? Too distant? Too uncomfortable? I didn’t want to embarrass anyone but I knew I was slipping into the end of my rope. I had just spent one and a half weeks in hotels/stranger’s houses meeting an endless stream of new people in a strange area I wasn’t familiar with. And, like it or not, I’m autistic and always have been even if I didn’t always know it. But there’s something poignant about growing older and still seeing yourself acting outside of your age-appropriate behavioral expectations in front of people much, much younger than you who are absolutely nailing maturity. After all my worrying and insecurity about this...I overheard a conversation I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. The daughter was talking to her dad who has, again, known my parents since before I was born and visited frequently when I was a child. He knew my mom before she died. And he said “...ever since [my mom] died mychemicalrant’s been....weird.” And his daughter said, “Oh, I thought mychemicalrant was nice!” It was a very humbling moment, I guess. I am really nothing at all like my mom, which I think is part of this observation, but the fact of it is that I have had my weirdness blamed on my mom’s death since I was ten. And that never feels good. Because I know I’m really being blamed for autism, and that is something that I can’t help. Getting over tragedy is something that society expects you to do and also provides a context for my inappropriate level of development, but...that’s not what it is. So, ouch.

You can’t be autistic, that’s bullshit!

Anyway. So I’m licking this wound slowly on the drive home. My dad doesn’t say anything to me about my “behavior” (like he would have had to do when I was growing up) so I figure the moment has passed and he’s unaware of the whole thing. See, my biggest fear is my dad getting blamed for my behavior. Like, my parents were always critical of me to a point, but my dad is an Enneagram 9 and he lets things be what they are for the most part. But being a single parent and having a “troubled’ child attracts unwanted attention, and I’m scared to death that my autistic presence will cause some of the legal ruckus it caused when I was a kid. That’s...well, that’s another entire story, and maybe entirely TMI for tumblr. Back to the present: I get home and call my friend to tell her of this experience and how it made me feel. She was sympathetic about it, which encouraged me to share some really good news from my vacation:

I made a new friend who is really fascinated in me (cool) and this person friended me on FB. In doing so, she found my months old Autism Diagnosis Coming Out post and commented on it, which bumped it up to everyone else’s timeline. I had thought everyone had seen it and chosen not to say anything, but suddenly I was getting a stream of supportive and loving messages from old friends, including a friend of mine who is pursuing their own diagnosis right now. !! I was very excited about this, and mentioned it to my friend on the phone, who knows this person. And suddenly all of the polite, restrained, “You’re undergoing a spiritual journey right now that means you will overcome your autism when you’ve learned XYZ spiritual lessons” in regards to MY diagnosis became “There is no way they’re autistic, they’re a fucking spoiled only child who got everything they wanted from their mom because they threw a tantrum if they didn’t, they are autistic like I’M autistic, please!” Me: This friend got along with their mom as well as you get along with yours?? My friend: Yeah, exactly, [Friend] is exactly like me! A spoiled only child who didn’t learn social skills because their parent didn’t teach them! Me: ...You know I’m an only child too, right? My friend: Oh, but your situation is TOTALLY different, I mean, blah blah blah...

Yikes. This conversation has stuck with me. First of all, I’m really proud of my other friend for seeking a diagnosis. I have always known they struggle with some form of executive dysfunction and a diagnosis makes that make so much sense. I’m super proud that they are pursuing this path. Also, it does not surprise me that my friends might also be on the spectrum or otherwise neurodivergent because these are the people I was closest with. I um...don’t have the heart to tell my friend in the aforementioned conversation that I strongly suspect she may be somewhere near the spectrum, too. My point is, not everyone believes me when I tell them I have autism because they have a built in, violent, cruel, irrelevant stereotype of autism in their minds. (My friend worked with troubled children from broken homes who included kids with autism, and naturally these kids looked/acted nothing like me.) But it was the vitriol with which she body slammed our mutual friend while pretending to begrudgingly accept my diagnosis that took me aback. It made me think a lot: if my friend who is seeking a diagnosis doesn’t have autism and is instead a spoiled only child who didn’t learn to socialize (this person is actually extremely empathic, generous, and creative), why does my other friend think they are pursuing a diagnosis? I didn’t have the energy to ask, but I had a few guesses. And none of them reflected well on my friend’s feelings towards me and my diagnosis. So, there you have it. On the one hand, I’m so “weird” I’ve had the cops and CPS called on my family to investigate potential abuse because my behavior indicated that something was seriously wrong at home, and growing up I was a constant source of embarrassment for my parents. On the other hand, I can’t possibly be autistic because only little boys who bite and scratch and hit their moms with broken bottles are autistic. It’s an uncomfortable place to be. I’ve had legitimately had my feelings hurt by being called out for being autistic and called out for "not really having autism” in the same week.

I think this is not unusual for those who would otherwise have fallen through the cracks, diagnostically-speaking. But, here’s where I’m at right now emotionally. I am trying to adjust to life in a new place (that part is going really well) and adjust to my new understanding of myself as autistic. This isn’t easy when I have to oscillate between shame (I really am autistic and this does have social consequences, not just for me but for those around me) and worry that I’m not “autistic enough” and I’m somehow defrauding those who are truly disabled or lying to everyone about my condition. In other words, I am still trying to define my relationship to autism. I have a lot of pain and shame to wander through first.

[mychemicalrant]

ASD Report

I was formally diagnosed with ASD this last April, but I just received my report in the mail of the assessment. I had more or less walked in with a self diagnosis already and she told me at the end of it that I had good instincts and she was glad that I had come in because I was exactly right. Beyond that, and beyond her agreement that I had ASD (with light discussion of what she observed) I really didn't know much of what she, a trained autism specialist, had made of the whole thing. So reading the report was pretty cool. A couple of things that stood out to me: I had heard that autistic brains tend to have a "spiky cognitive profile" in regards to IQ testing results and she had written in my report that though I had individual scores (my highest being 145 for verbal reasoning) she could not state an accurate total score for me because of the discrepancies between scores. That was something I found interesting. Apparently there was quite a lot of testing and screening for "feigned or exaggerated" psychiatric symptoms, as well as consistency between answers to weed out those who are faking, exaggerating, or purposely misleading the evaluator, and I scored within the appropriate range which meant my other scores could be taken as a true and honest assessment on my part. I can't say I am surprised that they included these testing elements but I certainly wasn't expecting a whole section of my report to be devoted to whether or not I was faking my self-assessment. Thankfully I wasn't! I guess it makes me feel better because many of us on here, especially those of us who self-diagnosed ourselves to the point of actually seeking a formal assessment (or not if we aren’t able to) feel like we’re faking. Well, turns out they test for that. My specialist noted some of the things she observed and the whole thing made me feel better about my diagnosis. I had been feeling moments of doubt or worry or “what if I exaggerated or mis-remembered something or--” after my diagnosis and right after that I had to jump into moving states, so reading this official assessment (and seeing that I tick all the DSM-5 criteria boxes) makes me feel a ton better.

#autism diagnosis #ASD #actually autistic #assessment #self diagnosis #formal diagnosis

[mychemicalrant]

Meme

So, if you hang out in the #ActuallyAutistic twitter circuit, you may have seen the accomplishment/struggles meme that goes something like this:

I’m an #actuallyautistic who:

+ Accomplishment

+ Accomplishment

+ Accomplishment

But also...

- Struggle

- Struggle

- Struggle

Now, with respect to both sides because I have seen some really good points made, I wanted to reflect on the whole discourse that has blown up over this.

The biggest argument against the meme is that the accomplishments everyone has listed are big and meaningful ones, even by NT standards, such as: home ownership, marriage, advanced degrees, salaried work, etc. Many people cannot accomplish those things and have several barriers besides disability in the way, and they felt left out and hurt by the circle of “look how successful we can be!” tweets that were flying around.

And you know what? I get that. Many of the accomplishments people listed were things I would never accomplish, let alone want to. When I reflected on my own list I could contribute, I realized that many of my “accomplishments” are rather small. But that’s okay. I will never have a PhD, most likely, and home ownership is all but off the table despite it being a huge dream of mine because I struggle to hold even a part time job, let alone the kind of job you’d need for a mortgage. And you know what? That’s okay.

My autism diagnosis made me realize that there are things I am always going to struggle with. I’m not going to “grow out” of the struggling, nor am I going to just “get over it” one day like everyone expects. My accomplishments are not going to look like everyone else’s. And yeah, it hurts, especially when you compare yourself to friends/family members/peers.

But I didn’t take the meme as a competition to see who was the Best Autistic, or Best At Passing As NT. I took it in the spirit of being proud of what I have accomplished and being understanding towards what I haven’t, even if my struggles were everyone else’s baseline accomplishment level.

The creator of the original post has nothing to apologize for, even if some found the idea in poor taste. (Turns out it wasn’t an “idea” for everyone to compete scores, it was just a personal tweet whose format went viral in the community.) The thing is, we are all oppressed in one way and privileged in another. As tempting as it is to cry and whine about oppression and how ableist it is to speak of accomplishments (because SOMEONE SOMEWHERE will not be able to accomplish that same thing), maybe we can take a moment to think about our own privilege and how we can acknowledge the ways we’ve been given a hand up in our own lives. 

There’s been a lot of screaming about this meme that I think would be better directed elsewhere. If you felt injured by another autistic person sharing that they have a PhD, why? Do YOU need one to be a valuable person? No. Of course not. Just live your best life and stop feeling the need to compare yourself to others. It’s your journey, no one else’s. If you find the meme in poor taste simply move on or contribute with your actual accomplishments, no matter how small. There’s no reason to feel *hurt* about what strangers are saying about their own lives.

Say it with me:

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN FEELINGS AND REACTIONS.

Not the original poster, not the meme, not everybody’s responses, not what someone has or has not accomplished.

It’s okay to feel the meme was in poor taste and choose not to contribute, but blaming anyone because YOU felt bad or hurt by what people were sharing is on you, not them.

(A note about my use of the word “meme” to describe the post everyone is doing: since the original poster has made it clear that the format of the post was intended to accommodate their own needs in structuring their idea, and since it was meant to be a single observation about a single person rather than a copy-paste post for everyone to do and compare against each other, the use of the word “meme” might be inappropriate contextually.

However, it took off as a meme because the format made it easy for people to post their own accomplishment/struggles. It was read as a meme from the moment it was retweeted and shared and thus went viral, which is how these things go. While the original creator may not have intended it as a meme, a meme is what it became.

I have also deliberately not referenced any of the involved parties out of respect to those involved, because this is not a call out post to anyone. Just me observing the behavior involved in the fallout.)

#actuallyautistic #discourse #autism community #ableism #infighting #autism meme

[mychemicalrant]

In my last post I talked about how I had lost control of my space during my moving out process and how I could feel the pressure starting to build. I CAN suspend my OCD if I have to. The problem is there is always blowback for this. It comes back with a vengeance. And it did.

I didn't really think I had meltdowns per se. I have blow ups of frustration where I throw something or swear or whatever but it wears off quickly enough. I'm not usually pressed to the point where I have actual meltdowns and I am grateful. Because the other day I wasn't so lucky.

I had gotten lunch and was chewing my food when I bit my lip AGAIN for the FOURTH TIME in the same spot. I was so fucking done that I threw the silverware on the floor such that the knife stuck blade first into the linoleum. I started beating the refrigerator with my fists and screaming while my friend tried to restrain me and calm me down. Eventually I calmed down, but it scared the shit out of me. I would have hurt myself and maybe some property (just in time to void my deposit) but what if I had hurt someone else? What if I screamed so much someone called the cops?

I calmed down and none of the neighbors seemed to notice. But losing control like that really scared me. I usually have so much more control over my emotions with my strict OCD rituals. The worst part is that I don't feel better. What caused the meltdown is too much pressure, too much socializing, and too much fear and stress. And I haven't even MOVED yet.

I'm trying to get into the spirit of things. I am trying to enjoy the time I have left in California. I'm trying to look forward to the things I like about where I'm moving. But I can't have what I NEED which is control over my space. I don't know where I can get some income or what my job options will be. I don't know how to build social connections. Everyone tries to tell me it'll be great. It'll be great losing the support and the person I've been dependent on the last ten years because then I get to be free from the crutches I've relied on too much. But I just feel upset and out of control right now.

That being said, in the back of my mind I've been mulling over my autism diagnosis. I think I had been wavering with some doubt over whether I was "autistic enough" to even warrant a diagnosis until I watched myself screaming and trying to tear my hair out. I've also observed the way my executive function/dysfunction has played a role in my moving process. Like, I'm really good at packing and cleaning and organizing. Not so much with managing other things. I keep going back to the store to make minor purchases because I keep forgetting things or needing things I didn't think I'd need. I'm also so overloaded with fear of change that my emotions keep getting in the way. Everyone keeps asking me what I'll do when I get to my new location. Probably get into bed and not get out for awhile.

#actuallyautistic #actuallyocd #actuallyanxious #autism #mental health #anxiety #mental illness #moving #meltdown

[mychemicalrant]

Moving

The day I got my diagnosis I was also given a reminder that I needed to get my shit together and arrange rides/moving trucks for my move at the end of May. I knew about it, of course. I had just been putting it off. I had been putting it off because I thought I was getting some mixed signals from the universe about it. Logistically, I had only one possibility (move back in with my dad a state away) but I kept hoping some new variable would present itself because...something didn’t feel right about it. Well, the closer my move date came, the more I realized I needed to just get everything together and make the phone calls and all that. So I did.

I haven’t really been sitting with my diagnosis as much as I’d like to. But that’s okay because I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time later.

I’m losing my best friend, all the family/friends I’ve had for the last ten years, and the state I’ve been living in. People say I’m not really *losing* these things; I’m just moving farther away. But the reality is, yeah, you do lose people when you move out of their sphere of reality. I haven’t seen some of these people in months and we all live here still.

I’m pushing the reset button on my life and starting completely over. I wouldn’t say I’m handling it well but I seem to be keeping it together so far. No meltdowns in front of people yet. This morning as I was washing my hands my deodorant tube slipped off the counter and slid into the sink and I had the strongest rage urge to grab the bottle and SLAM it into the mirror in front of me repeatedly. Uh oh. Our apartment is getting inspected soon and I don’t want to void my entire deposit over some stupid blowout I had so I kept it inside, but it was enough to let me know how bad things are getting.

I HATE CHANGE so much. I know I wasn’t entirely happy in my current life, and I know I wasn’t getting everything I needed, but I was the happiest I’d ever been and ever thought I’d be able to be. It scares me to think I’ll never be this happy or successful ever again even though I struggled a lot during that time.

But...I’ve gone outside and spent time with actual people more in the last week or so than in the three years since I’ve been living in the apartment I’m in. My OCD and need to hide made it too difficult to let anyone into my house and going out was difficult. But now, since I’m moving and everyone has to be in my house anyway, I’ve been letting them in and actually enjoying going out without worrying about contamination (nothing to protect since everything is getting contaminated anyway).

This comes with a cost. I almost smashed the fuck out of my bathroom mirror with a tube of deodorant. My OCD is how I vent/control the rage that builds up and without my rituals and compulsions the rage has nowhere to go but...out. And I’m not ALLOWED to express it. As a child I would get punished for expressing frustration and as an adult expressing my frustration would be straight up illegal or very costly in terms of property damage. So I just wash my hands a lot and restrict my movements entirely. This is clearly self harm, and self harm exists as a form of self punishment, which I am aware of but can’t seem to get to the source of why I feel the need to punish myself. Anyway. Although this has been very hard on me to have my categories crossed and my rituals destroyed all at once (I am losing control over everything) at the same time it has been freeing. Most of my work is on the computer so I don’t go outside much and my workspace/bed are “safe spaces” so no one can touch them and I have to follow elaborate sanitation protocol to use these spaces, which means it is easier for me to use them at a certain time of day/in a certain way. OCD restricts the way we can move in the world because we end up spending as much time as possible AVOIDING triggering our OCD and thus having to engage in our compulsions. So for the last few years I have become a tightly wound barnacle, barely able to move. OCD has even changed the way I walk and hold my body. So I guess maybe this is a new chance to get out of the rut that I’ve placed myself in. I hope so. It’s going to be a big change, and not a negative one. I’m just losing every social connection and all the support I had had behind for...what? I just can’t shake the feeling that I will never be happy again. It’s like my life is stopping. Not that I’m undergoing the dying process, but that my life is over and I’ve just reached the end. Nowhere to go from here. It’s a complete stop and there’s only a gray concrete wall at the end to signify that I’ve gone as far in life as I am allowed. Game over.

#moving #stress #actuallyautistic #actuallyocd #OCD

[mychemicalrant]

Anxiety

So. I’m moving. I’m not happy about it. I might have wanted to explore therapy and treatment options for anxiety after my autism diagnosis, because as my psychologist pointed out my anxiety seems to be the biggest issue. However, I am moving states and about to lose my insurance. Not sure my new state has anything in my insurance provider’s network anyway.

So, uh. I’m freaking out. Yeah. Of course I am. But when I thought about it, it’s not so much the move that bothers me. A move is, after all, a fresh start, and I really need one of those. I’ve become a crusty barnacle in my life, barely able to move for fear of disrupting the comfort I’ve managed to create. Upending that comfort would force me to move around and get my limbs back.

I am S C R E A M I N G internally at the thought of not getting my needs met, as if my life has a definite end point at which all food, water, and housing will cease and my life will just be over. But mostly, I’m terrified of making the wrong decision. I’m terrified that whatever choice I make will shut the door of my life completely and I can never come back. The mistake I can’t take back.

And here’s what’s really getting me. The interlocking mechanism of all these choices:

1. I have to do A.

2. But in order to do A, I have to do B and possibly C.

3. Whether I need to do C depends on whether D is going to happen, but in order to do A for sure I have to KNOW whether I am doing C or not.

4. I cannot know whether D is going to happen (unknown variable) but I HAVE to do A.

4. I can’t do A without knowing the unknown variable.

5. I cannot know whether D is going to happen.

6. I can’t do A without knowing D.

7. I can’t know D.

8. I can’t do A.

9. I have to do A.

I’m FUCKING SCREAMING. SO many things in my life are like this! So many decisions rest on unknown variables and I am SO CONFUSED about how to prioritize this all and I’m getting so much conflicting information.

The problem is that I’ve been putting off a lot of decisions because of not knowing D. I’ll say that D is where I’m headed in life. I can’t really know what to do or what resources to gather and what to prioritize WITHOUT knowing where I am going to go. Different paths require different resources and goals.

So I’ve hesitated. I’ve hesitated on some Very Big Decisions. I have hesitated as long as I can, and now I’m facing the end of the bus line. I have to get off, and I’m still not ready to face those big decisions. And, you know, I can’t tell if this is just because I am afraid? Or because somewhere in me I know this is the wrong thing to do. I am honestly so terrified that it could just as easily be that.

The inside of me is tearing itself apart and I can’t tell if this is intuition or anxiety. I’m trying so hard to listen to the inner voice that would guide me but all I can hear is S C R E A M I N G

#actuallyanxious #anxiety

[mychemicalrant]

The Problem of Disclosure

I’ve gotten more support for my ASD diagnosis than I ever would have expected.

I chose to come out to everyone in my life for two reasons: one, because everyone knows what I’m like and if *autistic* is the umbrella to contain it all, well, why not disclose this? And two, if anyone has a problem with it, it isn’t like they didn’t have a problem with me already. The bullying didn’t start because I got a new label. That said, there were a few people whose reaction I was more worried about, and those people are also connected to former people I no longer have contact with because I cut them out of my life. I suspected those other people would find out about my coming out and not in a good way. And that’s the thing with coming out: you’re not just coming out to who you choose to tell, but also to who they choose to tell after you tell them.

My old office was a really toxic environment. The bullying was subtle, and more behind-your-back. It was jokes and teasing to your face and gossip and speculation behind the scenes. And, I mean, it’s a small office so it’s inevitable. I knew there was something different and off about me, and no place did this come to sharp relief than in an office full of women I wasn’t anything like. But, I still have a few friends who work there, so I get occasional updates. I’m not at all surprised to learn that my coming out post became the fodder for my old office’s gossip discourse, and this was shared to everyone by my old boss, a person I had considered a friend (well, more or less). In other words, someone I keep on my friends list read my private post to everyone in the office for the purpose of mocking me about it. Again, I’m not surprised as he had done this many times to others, and really...this is exactly the kind of thing that happens when you share private, personal information. I knew this would happen. And I chose to disclose anyway, because I wanted to own my identity and own my journey, come what may. And come it did.

It hurt, but it really shouldn’t have. I knew that the people in this office were making fun of me already (they make fun of everyone, so...). This diagnosis wasn’t going to change anything at all.

Had I been still working there (and indeed this job experience was a BIG part of what led me to discover my ASD) I would have known it would be a very bad idea to admit that I was seeking this diagnosis. But...I can’t help it. I’m too earnest and I would have blurted it out at some point. Nonetheless my old coworkers found out and are having a field day with it. As I knew they would. And it hurt, as I had hoped it wouldn’t. So, I’ve always been confused in social situations. I have always felt like everyone was laughing at The Joke and I wasn’t getting it. I laughed along, but the truth is I didn’t know what we were laughing at, or I’d be laughing at something else entirely. When people find out the truth The Joke becomes me not getting The Joke. I’ve always been the butt of jokes, or alienated entirely. But...with this whole ASD thing, I’m starting to see things in a whole new light. I’m starting to see many of the social dynamics I had previously been blind to. When I was in the office myself I attempted to take control of any gossip that I might be the center of. I thought that if I was open and honest with people, they’d have less to speculate about. That just gave them more fodder to use against me. I thought that if I laughed and joked about myself with them, that it would hurt less when I wasn’t there. I was wrong. I thought that if I was nice, easygoing, charitable, flexible, and didn’t impose my needs too frequently that no one would have any reason to be mad at me. They found plenty of reasons. The truth is, they don’t need a REASON because any reason will do. They are just seeking drama and bullshit and that is not about me. I had always taken it to heart, like if I just tried hard enough I would be above social critique. But no. Whether I came out or not, I was always going to targeted for something by people who need to entertain themselves at my expense.

These are not good people. I am glad I got out of there. To the extent that their treatment of me hurts, I have to examine what in me wants to take responsibility for their actions. I’ve always felt that the bullying and teasing were my fault but the truth is it would have happened anyway and there’s nothing I could have done differently in a culture that just wants an excuse to be mean.

#bullying #teasing #disclosure #office politics #autism #actuallyautistic #ASD #coming out

[mychemicalrant]

Diagnosis Confirmed

I did it!

I got diagnosed with ASD! I’ve been worrying and stressing so much. At the first appointment she had said she was leaning towards GAD over ASD, but at the end she said she was comfortable giving me an ASD diagnosis, which is awesome because it puts that doubt out of my mind about it.

My psychologist told me that my hunch had been right, and she was so glad that I self advocated and came in for an assessment. That’s not to say that 100 percent of every self-diagnosed person is going to be right 100 percent of the time, but without that self-diagnosis I might not have thought to advocate for myself and research my condition (and history) in the first place. I was assessed for several conditions that look similar to ASD and I think this was valuable. If nothing else, having an official diagnosis helps me and others in my life to accept this truth much easier. But it felt good to have a psychologist validate my instinct (and self-diagnosis) all the same. Thanks to everyone whose posts I read when I was needing clarification and support. Without you I couldn’t have done this.

#actuallyautistic #actually autistic #autism diagnosis

[mychemicalrant]

[mychemicalrant]

OCD Thoughts

I have a lot of complex thoughts about OCD treatment.

OCD is typically treated with ERP, which at its core is about helping OCD sufferers face the central fear they have, which is not being in control, uncertainty, or whatever. I have to admit to being utterly repulsed by this methodology. But, I mean, of course I am. That’s kind of the point?

So I’ve been thinking a lot about it. My first (untrained) counselor at college told me: “Have you tried...not doing that?” Like, have I tried not having compulsions? Yeah, but more always pop up in its place.  All of my therapy up to this point has felt like a reiteration of the same. Have you tried not having OCD? Oh, you have a problem? What if you stopped having that problem? Then you wouldn’t have that problem anymore!

All of these people were sliding-scale-income social worker interns. I can’t blame them for not having specialized training to help me. But it totally turned me off from getting professional help. Besides, before now I couldn’t afford to anyway. Now I can.

I hate the idea of ERP, but I’ve thought a lot about it. I think about it all the time when I’m washing my hands three times in a row or cringing while sitting on a dirty surface. I think about what emotions I would feel if I tried to push through my obsessions without reacting to them.

Mostly anger. A loss of control. I think about how much my OCD acts as a way for me to take control when I feel like I have no control over my housing, my financial situation, my support. When I was working I felt like I was going to be fired every single day for making a mistake. When I’m not working I’m terrified and overwhelmed at how angry everyone must be at me. When I’m working, everyone is angry because I’m so terrible at my job and I don’t deserve to be there. When I’m not working I’m a waste of space and human garbage. I can’t get past the guilt and anxiety no matter what I do. And the anger. The resentment that I depend so much on people I can’t trust.

So I have OCD. Not just to protect me from death but to give me a way to control my anger so I don’t have to express it and risk alienating what little support I still have.

In many ways I have a much better life than some of what you hear on here. I have a good relationship with my living parent and some really supportive friendships. But I agonize in worry every day about losing that support because I’m such a PIECE OF SHIT. It’s a recursive cycle of anxiety and self hatred.

I don’t like that the cure for OCD is basically “fuck you, stop having OCD!” Like OTHER people can live with uncertainty, so why the fuck can’t you? No, I live with uncertainty EVERY FUCKING DAY. I just obsess about fabrics and things because that has nothing to do with the things I feel constantly uncomfortable about. Like how I’m so close to death. I’m so close to being homeless and losing everything in my life. I’m so close to being completely isolated and alienated and alone. I’m so close to being completely fucking screwed.

#actuallyocd #OCD #ocd recovery #ocd thoughts #actuallyanxious

[mychemicalrant]

Health Fear

[This card is from https://postsecret.com/. It says “Whatever it is, do it while you can. You never know if everything changes and your health no longer permits it. Every good memory made today will help you cope with your disease later on. <3.″] I had severe health anxiety when I was a kid and teenager. I spent entire years so convinced that I would fall ill with a major illness that I almost lived as if it were already happening. I was in sheer panic all the time. I didn’t move much. I didn’t want to leave my safe areas (home, school, friend’s houses, places in town I was familiar with) for fear I’d get sick and would be in an unfamiliar place. Then I went to college and got married, and by that point I had shed off some of the worst of the health anxiety (because of pot and alcohol?). When I got married, I had new things to focus on. Sensory overwhelm. Financial problems. Moving over and over. My OCD has gotten so bad that I struggle to leave the house now. So, in a way, I’m not sure what side of this card I’m on. My body feels great. Except for the constant energy drain and chronic lack of spoons, I feel vibrant. But I’ve been mentally ill for so long that I am more or less disabled. I want to live life to the fullest while I still can, and yet...that feels almost prohibitively hard. It makes me worry about what’s going to happen if my body starts to prevent me from being able to do the physical activities that my mind already prevents me from doing. Yesterday I went to a city I’ve never been to. One of my hobbies is to try micro-roasteries or local coffeeshops in new towns and I make it a tradition to find a cool coffeeshop to go to when I visit a new place. By all accounts I had a wonderful day of drinking good coffee and wandering around in the sun. But when I came home I was wiped. There were a lot of people. I had a couple of tiny near-meltdown microbursts throughout the day, as often happens when I get crowded by too many people.

Anyway, at the end of it I felt like shit and I really wasn’t sure why. I am trying to do exactly what the card says: go out and create new memories while my body allows me to. But there’s always something holding me back. Mostly for the last ten years it was money. I live in an expensive area and there’s little money left over for the kinds of experiences people consider “good memories.” But even cheap or free things can be difficult. It seems there’s always some tension or fear holding me back and I haven’t had any truly “good days” in awhile. I keep pushing to find out why.

Anyway. My day of fun cost me an entire day of recovery. I feel guilty for being so young and needing so much recovery time from...what? Walking? Around other people? It makes me worry about the future, as I’ve been doing since I was a kid.

#postsecret #health anxiety #actuallyanxious #anxiety

[mychemicalrant]

Dream

So I had this weird dream. [CW: long dream description, reincarnation, spirituality]

...

It started off in this huge industrial complex that was closed off from the world outside because the air had become so toxic the only livable place was inside this complex, which was under authoritarian rule. It was like Dr. Who’s “Gridlock” episode mixed with District 13. Everything gritty and dingy and all that. Well, they had this gathering of people that they’d force into a marathon of some sort, and I was in this group of people. The idea was that the group would be rounded up into smaller groups and wiped out. I observed this take place and then it was as if time had reset and the group was all mingling at the beginning of the marathon again. These looming hooded figures stood interspersed throughout the crowd and before the running/annihilation began these figures were interviewed as if they were just part of the crowd. There were about seven of them and for each of them they were assigned a smaller group of people from the crowd to oversee the death of. The race began and everyone was annihilated. Time restarted and we were back at the beginning of the race. The dream shifted and I found myself inside a little shop full of trinkets that I stopped to examine. There were a couple of other people in the small shop with me. The shop began to tremble and then we were in an elevator, me and two others. As the elevator continued trembling I watched the others fall to the ground unconscious and felt myself slipping there as well. I managed to stay on my feet though and some cruel looking entity who appeared as one of the women who had fallen unconscious touched the side of my face and I blacked out. And woke up at the beginning of the race again. But this time I sidled over to the front of the group. The first seven or so people to “win” got to escape, I guess, and I positioned myself near the front but not at the first place spot to avoid suspicion. We ran, and I escaped. I found myself being taken to some room where they were about to prepare me to become one of the hooded figures. This entailed either some kind of transplantation torture (like they were turning me into a dementor or something) or I would be responsible for overseeing the death of those people in the crowd at each race. I wasn’t sure which but they both sounded terrifying. I found out that each time the race restarted most people had no idea what was going on and just played their roles anew each time, but with each passing rotation of this I was retaining my memories and becoming aware of how to game the system because of it. They had observed my growing awareness and that made me a candidate to become whatever these hooded creatures were. The whole thing felt awful and evil (it was a borderline nightmare) and there was no shortage of cruelty. I wanted to hurt those who had hurt me and was told that I couldn’t now but in some future instance of this event, I’d be the one doing the hurting. I had to bide my time. I was haunted by this dream when I woke up but it seems a perfect metaphor for reincarnation. I realized that even in the dream. With each life I carry a little bit more awareness of my past with me, culminating in my current life where I remember quite a lot. For me, this isn’t just one isolated story. It’s a continuing narrative. Like I’m awake within the dream. I guess that’s done weird things to my psyche, but whatever. It’s how I’m used to living now. I didn’t used to believe in reincarnation either but it makes the most sense to me now.

#reincarnation #dream

[mychemicalrant]

Internalized Stigma

My psychologist got back to me at long last....with an appointment to discuss my results at the end of the month.

But...as much as I am frustrated at having to wait another month to hear my results (especially with my lease running up soon and a potential interstate move following), I guess I'm glad to get here at all. Well, you know. I've been a nervous wreck.

I've spent the last month drinking beer and coffee, not going out or expending much energy at all, avoiding phone calls and conversations because I just wanted my results. I just wanted to know. What the heck is going on with me?

So I called my dad today to tell him I had a consultation scheduled but no answers yet. I haven't told him it's an autism evaluation, but I did mention a few things that we covered like childhood behaviors. He knows about my toe walking and all that. But on the phone today he said that last time I had talked to him I had mentioned crying a lot as a baby (I thought?) and he was like, where did you get that idea? I'm like...because you played a cassette tape of me crying for hours? That'd I'd go on like that for hours and you recorded it because it was ridiculous how long I'd cry for? And he was like THAT WAS A JOKE. You cried a normal amount!

And I'm like...oh.

So my dad made a joke, as he always does (I have the same sense of dead pan humor) and I took him totally literally and applied this as a Global Rule in my life.

Well, it's not like I can remember crying as a baby. That was just what he told me when he was joking and making me listen to this recording of me crying. But I did mention it to the psychologist, not because I think crying a lot is a symptom of autism but because it was a detail I could offer about my childhood. An untrue detail, it turns out. :/

So much of the assessment depends on self-reports of childhood and interviews with family members. Most of my family have died and the ones still alive either didn't know me super well as a child or, for whatever reason, I didn't want to include them in the diagnostic process. I told her I didn't really have anyone for her to interview and she told me that wasn't unusual for older patients. So it pretty much came down to me reporting my childhood memories.

I had been on my way to the grocery store when I was talking to my dad and my wheels started churning and my pipes were getting jammed. I felt pretty on edge over admittedly a very stupid thing. I had gotten a detail wrong about my childhood because I took a joke literally. What else did I not remember right??

I tried to get my grip as I continued shopping. I mean, it's a silly detail and it doesn't matter anyway. Because of my OCD I can't really carry those hand carts so I have to carry all items in my arms, meaning that I can only buy what I can physically hold and that I always drop something. Well, I dropped something. A glass of carbonated something that started a pressurized spew of fluid as it hit the ground. I numbly apologized and stood there awkwardly, like I wanted to help but wasn't sure I was allowed to and anyway, I had an arm full of groceries. Fuck.

I got my groceries, got my coffee, and left. Out came the damn tears, because I'm such a mess who can barely manage grocery shopping on my own. There's a lot I need help with. When my lease runs out I may have to move to my dad's and I'm nervous about this. My functioning level or level of disability has gradually gotten worse over the decade and I'm afraid of him seeing how bad it's gotten. I'm also afraid of what I really am. If I am autistic does that mean I have a valid reason to be disabled? I live a life of lessened mobility but the mobility issues are not caused by my body. If my legs work just fine, and it's my brain causing these issues (difficulty touching things or even moving at times, low spoons) does it count?

So I have this "friend." The kind of friend who offered a lot to my life and brought a lot of good things in it, and because of this he was someone I trusted. But over time I saw that he is the kind of person who can be rather cruel and petty and I sensed I was the butt of his jokes more than I would have liked. Anyway, this person has a personality structure that abhors weakness and sees every problem as an excuse. He had no tolerance for other people's emotional needs or barriers. He saw all weakness as a choice that he would NEVER choose and neither should you.

Although I don't really see him anymore he gets stuck in my head a lot. He saw my OCD and anxiety as a self-enforced inconvenience, or maybe at best a joke. It's funny that I sanitize everything like Monk or something. And, I mean, I don't mind laughing at it. But it upset me that he would often imply that the chemical balance in his brain should also be in mine. Like, because he didn't struggle with mental health issues personally, NOBODY should. He didn't accuse me of faking to get attention or get away with things because I didn't make a big show of my needs and just quietly washed or sanitized without making a scene. But he had no trouble accusing others of doing this anytime they needed anything. So now I hear him in my head. YOUR ISSUES AREN'T REAL. IT'S ALL FAKE. YOU'RE NOT REALLY SICK OR DISABLED. YOUR LEGS WORK JUST FINE. YOUR HANDS WORK JUST FINE, YOU JUST DON'T WANT TO USE THEM!

Is OCD, anxiety, and depression a disability? Is autism? Of course they are, but when I think of myself standing there with an arm load of individual items I'm dropping on the floor because I can't just use the damn hand cart, I feel like...what if it's all bullshit? What if anxiety isn't real and I'm just a huge coward? What if my difficulty with change is just me being inflexible and not fun? What if I'm not autistic, I'm just anxious? What if I'm not anxious, I'm just a weak lazy coward who wants handouts?

Anyway. I'll hear the final word from the psychologist in a few weeks and hopefully I can go forward from there. I am pretty scared, but she took me seriously. I struggle with the internalized stigma of mental illness enough on my own and this is my first real chance at being taken seriously and maybe getting some real help regardless of the outcome.

#anxiety #actuallyanxious #actuallyocd #mental health #autism diagnosis #ocd #mental illness #actuallymentallyill #obsessive compulsive disorder

[mychemicalrant]

100% can confirm.

One thing I think is useful to conceptualize when thinking about the severity of depression is figuring out what counts as a ‘task’ to your brain

for example, healthy people outlining the tasks they need to do that day might be something like 

- class - work - homework

if a healthy person is having a low energy day, maybe it becomes 

- make breakfast - go to class - class - go to work - work - come home from work - work on an essay - do 2 readings 

a depressed person, on a high energy day will probably see that same day as 

- make breakfast - eat breakfast - take meds - shower - get dressed - walk to bus - take bus … etc

a depressed person, on a low energy day will see that same day as

- wake up - get out of bed - walk to bathroom - use bathroom - stand back up - walk to kitchen - open fridge - take out juice - set on counter - go to cabinet - reach up arm - take down glass - unscrew lid of juice carton - pour juice - drink the juice - finish the juice …etc

the sort of chronic exhaustion manifests in how each ‘task’ takes a certain amount of energy and when you have depression, what begins to take that amount of energy- and thus, cognitively count as a ‘task’- are smaller and smaller subdivisions of what other people consider tasks. 

And the more ‘tasks’ you do, the less energy you have, and the smaller the subdivisions must be to take equivalent amounts of energy. And the longer that “to do” list of tasks is, the more exhausting and overwhelming and hopeless it feels, which creates a feedback loop of dysfunction.

So say our depressed person on a low energy day gets all the way to finishing their glass of juice. They’ve actually gotten through a lot of tasks! They’ve tried really hard. 

But to a healthy person, even on a low energy day, that probably looks like not having done anything- not having gotten through any tasks. And when our depressed person is surrounded by healthy people, they will likely internalize that they haven’t done anything, and further that they can’t complete any tasks no matter how hard they try. And that feeds worthlessness and suicidal ideation 

That, I think, is why it’s so important to encourage your depressed and chronically low-energy friends when they accomplish tasks, even if they’re operating at a level of subdivision that you don’t recognize. It is an accomplishment to get water and actually drink it for some folks. It is an accomplishment to get to class or to work. 

And acknowledging how hard someone is trying and how much energy they’re putting towards accomplishing those tasks can make a huge difference in whether they feel worthless and hopeless or whether they feel like it’s worth it to keep doing what they can.