One of the most frustrating things about being neurodivergent at work right now is staring at an email and genuinely not knowing whether
I was never taught how to do what they're asking for
it's been explained to me multiple times and I just forgot how
I know how to do this but I don't understand the process well enough to pick out what they're actually asking me to do because it's not presented in a way I'm used to
Legitimately one of the best things I've found for my depression - survival toolbox.
Crying? Wipe the salt off after it dries. You feel better in like 30 seconds without scratchy Kleenex feeling.
Hot flashes or hot weather? Back of your neck, under arms or boobs
Feel self-hating and gross? Grab a wipe when you do your last pee before bed. Swipe 3 parts: puss 馃馃徎, pits, pussycat. Took me two minutes or less tonight.
No energy to shower or bathe? Swipe the 3 parts while sitting. (Get a second wipe if your feet are dirty)
There are no rules, there is no perfect. Some days... There's just trying to get through it.
That feeling when your brain allows you to shower for the first time in a week, and your hair no longer feels like someone smeared room temperature butter on your scalp 馃ぉ
I have recently come to realize that I鈥檓 at a stage in life where I find myself attracted to a literary genre I never held any interest in: realism.
Or rather, realism with wondrous things sprinkled in.
Specially like that presented in Japanese literature.
What I鈥檓 really looking for I think, is connection. Being able to relate to the story to a deeper level than the fantasy stories I used to be so obsessed with (which no offense, but are usually not written to relate with anyone. YA Fantasy writing tends to be bleak when it comes to the relatable side of things).
I am touched by stories about people struggling through life鈥檚 bumps, pushing through as they find connections with others and hope in the little things; perhaps lessons they learned as children and forgot as they aged, or perhaps in magical wonders they encounter.
Slice of life stories are specially entertaining to me now. Broken as I am, there鈥檚 a part of me that lights up with stories I can empathize with. It stitches me up a bit inside. Helps hold me together.
There are so many books of this kind I wanna read. Stories that can warm me inside and hold my stitches together.
I never thought I鈥檇 become interested in realism (after, you know, literally living through it).
Guess a point comes where you just wanna know you鈥檙e not the only one in pain.
I don鈥檛 mean medication and therapy right now I mean everything around it.
I don鈥檛 have the energy to cook so I buy something edible and usually unhealthy and maybe I鈥檒l have energy to cook later.
(also I have social phobia and live in a house with a bunch of other people. Most days I can鈥檛 manage going to the kitchen)
I don鈥檛 have the energy to clean the dishes so I order food or but paper plates or new plates.
I have to replace things that get ruined because my depression keeps me from taking care of it or maintaining it.
I don鈥檛 have the energy to do laundry so I buy new clothes.
My shoes got really dirty and I didn鈥檛 clean them in time so now they鈥檙e ruined.
Especially if you live alone this is such a struggle and it鈥檚 really not helped by the fact that if you live with mental health you might not get a lot of money to begin with.
It鈥檚 incredibly frustrating!
My mental illness literally keeps me from cooking food in my own home because other people might be there.
Thankfully I鈥檓 getting my own place in like a month.
Fun times: the medications I just got put back on are alternatively marketed as weight loss aids because they're appetite suppressants.
So while I am actively aware that I need to eat in order to manage basic cognitive function, just thinking of food has my whole body going absolutely the fuck not.
Me: freshly out of hospital "i dont think i can cope going back to school, my brain still isn't right" (spacing out, hallucinating, derealisation)
Me: *asks new therapist what to do*
Therapist: "i dont know 馃し "
---
Me: *starts not feeling real at school* *has no way to cope*
My TA: "have a cup of tea 鉂わ笍"
---
It helped for a while. But then i got bad again.
I've had 5 "therapy" sessions (refused to do actual therapy/help me until i have a care placement) since my 6 weeks in a (general childrens) hospital. Gotten no better.
---
Me: *starts getting really angry when at school* "i cant come in school anymore it's too much. This is all too much."
My TA: "whats wrong?"
Me: "im having to take care of myself, a house, and my dog! and i fucking can't do this all anymore" *fully fucking breaks down*. "It's been four months i wish social services sorted themselves out for once! I miss mum."
Me: dosen't go into school for a week.
Me: misses more and more school
Me: cant fucking get out of bed
Social services, camhs, school: "oh but why didn't you tell us you was this bad?"
I've been cooking a lot more since I found Artemis. A lot of her meals need to be homemade, so it kinda forces me to cook again! Good for my depression, honestly.