#getting diagnosed with autism made it so much worse actually now I’m convinced people only keep me around because they feel sorry for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

indigo-villin · 2 years

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Sorry ya’ll for my continuous change in what I’m reblogging and posting...

I’ve just been running through various things trying to keep up with certain subjects, but also trying to figure myself out.. I know Tumblr is more open with random posts and with the Twitter thing I don’t want to post a bunch of shit over there.

If you saw my previous RB and actually read it you saw me mention trying to find a reason to not self diagnose as autistic... Now first off I am on tiktok I have seen legitimate people with both ADHD and autism talk about their issues and ask others if they do the same... By no means would I use those alone to justify self diagnosis, but they did spark my interest in learning more about what autism really is and how it actually differs from ADHD and how it’s truly similar. I go through here and I look up different things people do with both disorders wanting to see personal stories of what people do, and I of course relate to some of the ADHD ones... but I also relate to some of the autistic ones...

I take those questionnaire test things, actual tests, I read articles, and I look up hyper specific articles regarding autism. I by no means relate to everything, but I relate to a lot of it. I’ve also looked at the current dsm-5 criteria and current info regarding traits for both children and adults... Again not everything fits 100%, but more than half of it fits me (both adult me and my childself).

Now, clearly I know the info seriously fits me... but I still didn’t want to say I am autistic..why? Simple I already have ADHD, ADD, depression, anxiety, and paranoia. All of those have been diagnosed by a professional via the correct testing. I still have the envelope with my test results,,, but I’ve never physically seen them. I was 14 and didn’t know what any of it meant. What little I did know didn’t really make me happy to know, and my mother has always been a “your illness/diagnosis does not define you“ type person (which is apparently great for a cancer patient).

She always pushed me to be medicated, to ignore what I had and try to be normal, to overcome and become like everyone else... Sire she wanted me to know what I had going on.., but honestly anytime my mental health was deteriorating she got so upset with me. I’m pretty sure if I had ever admitted to having a depressive episode she’d have forced me to get meds (which never worked anyways and I wasn’t able to take certain ones anyways because they made me highly sxicidxl/aggressive apparently). I can’t say I have autism to her now... she doesn’t believe it... She’s convinced my sister and I don’t have any mental illnesses (besides what everyone in the house has, ADHD and/or ADD, and what I already have). My sister is only 13 btw and my mother doesn’t believe she has anything besides that...

I also want to add something about my physical self here. Something my mother has said many times about me when we visit with new doctors and have to talk about my medical history (which is extensive). My eyes apparently show that I “hold the gene for Asperger's Syndrome“... but I don’t have it.. Yes I am aware that Asperger's Syndrome is a form of autism. The idea my eye shape has always told people that I could have it/have a child with it astounds me. When I was born doctors tried figuring out what all I’d have (if I’d live long enough as they put it) and Asperger's was literally one of those things. Now, I can’t say if I have this specific type of autism, but I can see and tell that I have autism. I can not tell my family due to my mother’s insistence on me not having anything else wrong with me.

Hell even if I did and I stopped masking all together around her... She’d push me towards medication. She’d force me to mask again, but worse.. it would be highschool all over again... She’s calmed down and become so much less controlling in recent years... I don’t want to go back to secretly hating and loving her again. I don’t want to make myself get stuck into a terrible life situation just to say I have a mental illness she won’t accept. In recent years I’ve stated I’m trans, I’ve gotten a romantic partner, I’m very slowly migrating to living with my partner, and I’ve been upfront about my feelings on “adult“ subjects.. more adult in my feelings than she’s seemed to expect at times. I can’t let all of this progress go backwards with her...

Knowing I’m autistic doesn’t change anything with my family anyways. I’m still unable to really have a mental health day. I still need to say I’m having severe migraines in order to actually care for myself emotionally. My partner (who is professionally diagnosed with ADHD and autism) is here for me and doesn’t doubt me. They ask me questions and hears me out on the subject. I have someone who has severe mental shutdowns, I have someone whose emotional well being is important to me and someone who worries about my emotional well being.

#personal vent #vent #to my followers #actually adhd #self diagnosed autism #self diagnosed #self dxed #neurodivergent

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probablynotsamantha · 3 years

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My god it's just dawning on me how badly I've fucked up. I know that there are tons of people who go through community college and I'm going to a pretty good one and this doesn't reflect badly on me as a person or anything, and of course my situation could always be worse, but damn I have fucked myself. I have no friends here, making friends has always been kinda hard for me, and it's sure as hell not helping that all of my interaction is going to be happening via Zoom. If I'd just been able to make myself do the fucking work I'd have much better grades and could probably have gotten in just about anywhere I wanted. If I'd just done more applications and college research I wouldn't have relied on two schools I probably didn't have the grades for. If I'd just made sure to send my SAT score to UMD instead of assuming that the form where they ask you to self-report your SAT score was good enough, maybe they'd have been willing to look past my GPA. If I'd just fucking done anything even remotely approaching the bare minimum I'd be going to college with friends. Instead I'm alone. All my friends are posting on their instagrams about how excited they are to go off to college and be with their friends and peers and I'm stuck living in this shitty household where I get no acceptance and have basically been forced back into the closet and I just feel so lost and hopeless. I had my early teen years taken away by depression and anxiety so bad I would just refuse to go to school and I don't even know why. Now for my late teens I get all that plus the consequences of my own actions and my parents not accepting me being trans.

Why didn't I just stop being such a lazy piece of shit and just do the work like everyone else. Sure, I spent all my time watching YouTube because life was intolerable when I wasn't distracting myself, but even that felt empty. I needed help so badly and I just never got any. It wasn't available. All I got at Norwood was being yelled at for not doing the work, and at Blair I got that and also some "well I understand it's hard but there's really nothing I can do about it, I'm sorry". I clearly needed help but there just wasn't any help available. Of course my parents were just find sending me to a class designed to help develop my social skills when I was 5 (being 5 i didn't really understand it and I have very few memories of it but I do remember it being stressful at times and looking back on it it seems kinda like a "here's how to speak neurotypical" class, which while helpful for the world we live in it doesn't make it any less disgusting that I was taught helpful strategies to make eye contact with people (take a step back if you're uncomfortable) instead of respecting the fact that eye contact made (and still often does make) me uncomfortable. That was just fine, but both I and my psychiatrist had to pester my parents for several years before I finally was able to get into therapy again, i had tried therapy before once but did not have a good experience, how much of that was me being like 10-12 and how much of that was actual issues idk, also they had some sort of diagnostic process also which I think is how I got my autism diagnosis which I don't even really know if I have because my parents didn't explain anything of what was going on to me, just that I was to talk to this doctory person every week (I knew vaguely it was therapy but nothing beyond that) and the only reason I know of that diagnosis is because it was on a piece of paper I saw my psychiatrist holding that appeared to be a list of my diagnoses (at least I can't think what else a piece of paper with my name on it and a few other things I knew I had could be), which of course means I constantly doubt that I actually saw that because surely they would've told me, and surely it would show up on my Sibley portal under diagnoses (even though that doesn't show several other things I know I have been diagnosed with), and also I'm nervous I would get in trouble for reading that because it wasn't at all clear it was something I was allowed to read (though it did have my name at the top so I assumed it was fine). But recently my parents were talking about going through that testing I did when I was 10 or whatever again (they gave a reason that wasn't entirely clear), and they said something about not entirely believing the results and so now I'm fairly convinced that I did indeed get diagnosed but my parents just refused to believe it because there's no way their child could be autistic, just like there's no way their child could be trans. But yeah, even despite all of that I should've just done the work instead of feeling sorry for myself, and then I'd be ready to go off to college with friends instead of being stuck alone. The thing that really gets me is that I might never fucking see these people again. I can't stand that. I never got to spend enough time with them while I had it because I was always busy or unable to make plans or couldn't do something because my parents wouldn't let me and now that opportunity might be gone forever. Except for the bunch that are at UMD (and even that isn't exactly close), the closest friend I have is in Princeton. They're people I would gladly spend the rest of my life with, and now some of them are over TWO FUCKING THOUSAND miles away. I don't know that I can cope with that. I just... my heart is broken. I remember not really understanding why it's called a broken heart either, but holy shit my chest hurts so fucking badly it does kinda feel like my heart is broken. The idea of never seeing the people who I care about the most again feels just terrible. There's also the whole problem with classes at MC, like there just

aren't really that many classes that interest me, and the fastest way to get me to not do work is to have me be bored out of my mind. All of that isn't even counting all the struggles I have with being trans and having my parents be unaccepting and my sister not being great either and neither are neighborhood friends tbh (though the latter two may be because we are often around parents who are shitty).

Oh and just to make everything worse my bed is full of ants because I'm a fucking slob and can't be bothered to keep my bed clean (the fact that I left half a pizza crust there in my haste to leave for vacation a week ago probably didn't help).

Earlier I was genuinely contemplating just packing a bag and leaving. Problem is, I have nowhere to go. Part of me wants to just hop on a plane somewhere and get a shitty job and start a new shitty life. Another part of me just wants it all to end. It's not like there's really any difference to anyone if I'm dead if we weren't ever gonna speak again. I wouldn't ever actually kill myself, but just the fact that it occurred to me is terrifying. I just don't see any way the future could possibly be even remotely enjoyable.

I need to live in a world that has help for people like me and I just don't.

#rants #this is just stream of consciousness more or less #I'm probably blaming myself too much #but like #fuck i had so much handed to me on a silver platter #and i went and threw it all away #the worst part is i feel like i deserve it all #and i probably doxxed myself with all the information i gave out but tbh i dont care #to my blair senior friends: if any of you guys somehow see this y'all are the best and I'm sorry I was never the friend you guys deserve

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procrastilate · 5 years

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I did it.

As unremarkable as I once thought it would be, I made it to university.

I haven't been sure for a long time that I would ever be able to say that, and I want to tell you a little bit about why because I haven't had a post like this in a while and a lot has happened since then.

I'm going to put stuff under a read more, so feel free to scroll past and ignore it - it's likely to be a mess and may or may not require a content warning.

To summarise, though, I'm at uni. Despite all the shit, I am here. There's still a way to go, but I'm one considerable step further.

Expect to see a bit more of me - I'm a StuDenT aGaIn

I am sending so much love to you all and so much luck and good wishes for whatever it is you're working towards right now. You got this.

Lots of love and stay safe,

Lily x

I was lead to believe in a specific academic progression. You get GCSEs and turn 16 and go to college and get A-Levels and turn 18 and then go to University. I knew there were other options and pathways, but that was my rule. That was the only option for me. That was what I had to to do.

None of it really went to plan and, for every year that it didn’t, I became more and more convinced that I was not designed to exist here. The longer and the further I went from my rule, the worse I felt and the more rules I made to compensate.

I have been forced by my circumstances to recognise that there is no set way as to how things should happen, and that is something I feel very strongly about. As much as you plan and prepare and try, sometimes shit happens. Sometimes things happen that are out of your control and that doesn’t mean anybody is at fault. It doesn’t mean you’re not working hard enough. It doesn’t mean you are weak. It means that things might not go in the order you planned or happen the way you think they should - and that’s okay. I have to believe that.

I think I’ve spoken about this before, but it’s something I see quite a lot out in the studyblr ether. There appears to be a theme that hard work pays off. I think, in the majority of cases, that’s true. I do think it only goes so far. Putting in more effort is not a sure-fire way to achieve more. Trying your hardest is not the same as performing to the best of your ability. Sometimes, certain things mean you can’t put in the maximum amount of effort and it sucks. It sucks that your best isn’t necessarily the best you can possibly do. It sucks that you can put all of your energy into things and it can mean that you fail. It does not mean you are not capable. It does not make you any less of a student or of a human. It often means there are more important things to face besides textbooks and exam papers. There are so many things far more important than textbooks and exam papers and I cannot emphasise that enough.

It's easy for me to sit here and say those things, but I know that reading them isn't the same as understanding them. I did not believe any of those things for a long time and there's still a lot of times that I don't. I now just know them to be true. No matter how my self-doubt twists them in my head, I know that my efforts to be a good student are worthless when I neglect certain other things.

I'm still working on understanding that my health is more important than the rules I set myself and I'm still learning that some rules, especially the ones directly detrimental to my health, are bad rules.

Last year, the possibility of me being at university was nil. Six months ago, I was moving in the direction of death, because of my stupid fucking rules and now I'm here and it's crazy and I am scared shitless - but I'm here. I am here and I am recovering and I am alive and I am sat in my new home for the year right this moment.

I dislike the notion that being a studyblr implies who you are as a student or as a human being. People have spoken before about this but I want to emphasise it. Being a studyblr doesn’t mean you’re an A****** student. It doesn’t mean you spend all the time studying. It doesn’t mean you make pretty notes and sit in coffee shops with your friends discussing the industrial revolution. Sure, some people might do that, but it doesn’t mean you have to. It’s easy to get caught up in the ‘aesthetic’, but it doesn’t and will never reflect how you have to be as a student. For anyone looking at my tumblr or anybody else’s and beating yourself up because that’s not what life looks like for you, don’t. For me at least, my studyblr looks nothing like how I live my life.

Honestly, I haven't really done a whole lot of living. There are all these things I 'should' have done by now, and I haven't. I wish so much that I had and that I experienced the world like I should, but there's no good in wishing for something that didn't happen or wishing for things I can't have.

Last October, I was diagnosed with an autism spectrum condition. It fucking hit me like a metaphor I can't think of right now. It really got to me. It was like confirmation that I don't belong on this planet. It was confirmation that the energy and years I'd spent trying to be 'normal' were wasted. It was awareness that, for all that time, it was pointless. I had exhausted myself trying to socialise like I 'should'. I spent years feeling hopeless and hurt and confused at a world I couldn't quite understand, and I couldn't help but think and think and think about how maybe if we'd known sooner, things wouldn't have been as bad as they were. Maybe if I'd known, I could have accepted that I would always feel confused. I could have accepted that things wouldn't be the same for me as they might be for others.

There were more rules after the diagnosis, rules that I won't share. They made me ill and it was bad but it's okay and I'm alive.

I just can't believe that I'm here.

I'm so afraid that I go backwards and I'm so afraid of all the things I never learned to do by myself.

I am so out of my depth and comfort and so much of me wants to go home to my cat and dog and safe place but I can't and it's scary but I'm okay. It's okay.

I have been shut away in my room for years, and now I'm not and it's shivering me timbers - but I'm here - and I'm trying to make it feel like home.

I still have a long way to go - in recovery, in functioning, in time, in acceptance - but I'm here and I wanted to tell you because you all have been so good to me and I am so glad to have this blog and to be a part of this community.

I think I'm back - like, maybe original content level back. I'm not sure that anyone still wants that but, in the nicest possible way, tough shit I'm here aLrEaDy :))))

For anyone that feels hopeless right now or confused or terrified, know that the things you want to achieve can actually happen. Sure, there's a real risk it might go to shit, but my goal was to get to university and, as unlikely as it was, I aM hErE anD rEadY iSh tO lEaRn nOt rEalLy I gEt lOst But I'm HeRe sO

Stay safe x

#mine #inspo #studyblr #studyspo #study #procrastilate #idk who or what to tag #but love all u mutuals out there #and everyone else #student #university #uni #study space #space #desk #mental health #personal #shut up lily

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ndragoon · 3 years

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It still sucks having doctors that won't cooperate, with little to no options to go elsewhere.

When you have welfare insurance, you are stuck in this narrow aisle of doctors you can go to and going out of network means you have to pay out of pocket.

My GI reluctantly diagnosed me with "maybe IBS", not even an actual diagnosis. This was simply because with Crohn's, one of the "signature criteria" is "massive weight loss", and I've basically been the same weight since before I left high school 11 or so years ago. I can literally feel the inflammation in my backend through the softer tissues, but clearly that doesn't matter. He'd rather keep an eye out for my "fatty liver" despite no test showing I even have signs of it simply because I'm overweight.

I went to an eye doctor and she told me that I have severe astigmatism and could never wear glasses. It was something that would keep getting worse even though I don't have this other condition, while describing that I'm dealing with exactly that condition. She told me that I am forced to wear these contacts that will need to be replaced and adjusted often for the first 6 weeks or so, and would cost me $425 out of pocket WITH my insurance. I now need to wait another 6 months to even get a second opinion.

The endo just did a call checkup last time, and did it earlier than we were supposed to. He wanted to see how my hormone levels are, and they were apparently still so low that he didn't believe that I was even using the gel. And despite using 3 packets of the 1% offbrand gel daily, my testicles are still shrinking to the point that only the tubes between them and the ones that go inside are the only things I can feel in there. My drive went from taking care of things twice a day to maybe one time every week or two. It's still so numb that I ejaculate without orgasming, and anal stimulation does nothing, even with a vibrato made for men.

I have to find another psychiatrist because my last one was bad for my health. Told me all of my problems were because I was fat and lazy, because I let other peoples opinions of me matter too much, because I "want to go on disability" instead of proving my self worth though getting a really well paying job, and because I refuse to follow any kind of routine. He refused to even test me for ADHD because I didn't have a job, and refused to treat me because I was clearly just going to pop pills all day out of boredom since that's what all unemployed people do, apparently. He refused to test me for autism because "you are just trying to explain away your trauma" after asking me why I think that and giving me enough time to almost finish one reason before interrupting.

My neuro is good, as long as I actually get my main doc. Her aide was very unpleasant. Talked about how I'm tired despite the B12 supplements and the CPAP I have to deal with every night. How I can't remember anything to the point that I doubt I ever knew anything at all, how just thinking feels like drudging through wet concrete and fatigue makes it feel like it's hardening, and he just told me that these are symptoms of being obese. I need to stop eating so much junk and actually get outside to exercise more often. It wasn't until I kept pushing that he even bothered with an MRI (which turned up nothing, anyway). And through the request of my doc I need to see a specialist for my lupus to get it treated, and if I still feel like it, she gave me a referral for a neuropsych analysis for autism and ADHD (which I hope insurance covers, since I keep hearing that it's not, and it's ridiculously expensive on top of that).

So for now, I get to deal with multiple bathroom trips a day, having to dance around foods I want to eat because I can't eat them anymore, and then nearly cry myself to sleep because just laying there on a comfortable bed is enough to hurt all of my joints, only to wake up the next morning and roll the dice while I figure out what's going to work today and what I have to work around.

Not to mention my family, who is convinced that it's just because I'm so overweight. They tell me almost weekly that I just need to lose weight and I'll feel a lot better. So much so, that they expect me to eat nothing but one can of cream soup a day with no noodles or any additives like crackers.

And I'm sorry for anyone who actually reads these. They are long and whiny, and I really should just deal with it all and pretend I'm a happy, functional adult.

#Personal #TMI

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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

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okay so that article on burnout i reblogged immediately before this post.

i started to write a freaking tag essay and realized that was a terrible idea.

so here, have a post under a cut.

(also, like, there’s probably going to be copious swearing because? i’m actually trying to avoid censoring myself for this one? we’ll see.)

The decision paralysis, the concept of ‘not meeting adult-hood landmarks because they don’t exist anymore’, the idea of ‘being one of the more productive people on the work floor is still not enough, because i can’t get things done at home’...

well fuck, i’m in this fucking picture and i don’t fucking like it.

i mean, i suck. i know i suck, and people just get mad at me when i say that. and i’m damn well aware they’re mad at the sentiment and not at me, but since i’m the one thinking the bullshit, then they’re mad at me for it existing. it’s just that they don’t see it that way.

because my brain is dumb, which means i’m dumb.

anxiety fucking sucks, and i’m not even sure if that’s one of the things i was diagnosed with anymore, because the only ones i remember were ‘depression’ and ‘aspergers’, but. like. i’m not sure the depression one was accurate, and technically speaking aspergers doesn’t exist anymore? because god fucking forbid we want to have something to call it. also, they didn’t actually tell me the autism one until i was entering high school, and i’m pretty sure that i’d been diagnosed mid-middle school. and also i’m not even confident i remember any of that correctly, since everything blurred together pretty much immediately.

the sentiment of “There’s a word for it” is so fucking important, especially when you have trouble putting things in words. when your mouth and brain are running at different speeds, and you can’t say the thoughts before you lose track of which sentence you were on, you need to have a phrase ready. But if you don’t, you get the pauses that frustrate everyone including yourself, and mean that nothing actually gets said.

see: every fucking time i try to talk to anyone.

i got sidetracked again. i was planning to ‘copy’ the tag essay over here. whoops.

The thing about the ‘decision paralysis’ that the article mentioned... well, one of the many things about it, is that you can’t actually explain it to someone who doesn’t go through it themselves. See again: “There’s a word for it.”

I have yet to be able to explain to my parents that “No, i really have trouble with making a fucking decision on how to find the music you want for that playlist. I can’t figure out what search terms to use, because I don’t actually know what you’re talking about for ‘dinner music’, and the explanations you were able to give didn’t. actually. y’know. help.”

That’s not their fault, that’s on me being stupid and dumb.

i can’t make a decision because i freeze up. I freeze up because i know i will inevitably get some part of the decision wrong, and it doesn’t matter how infinitesimal that part is, it’s still wrong. and having been in the ‘advanced track’ or whatever the hell we called it at my school, i got convinced that even slightly wrong is completely wrong. and that’s just not okay.

i don’t even think that sentiment actually came from the teachers? or the lessons? or anything really? but welcome to america, where if you’re in the ‘high performing’ section, you somehow get convinced that anything less than perfect is as good as a failure.

(where you go on a vacation to disney in fourth grade and are still required to write the mandatory journal entry every day, even though you don’t. know. what. to. say.)

(a lot of those ‘daily writing assignments’ we did wound up being my first forays into fanfiction actually. ... i don’t really know what my teachers thought of those particular entries. wish i could find some of those notebooks, it would be good to post for a laugh.)

but i digress. again.

i can’t explain the ‘i’m not able to make a decision’ thing to anyone. because i freeze up when trying to figure out how to explain it, and that leads to the awkward pauses in speech, which leads to a completely different form of freezing up, because i don’t want to annoy people.

Being annoying is basically the same as being wrong and failing, after all.

And. like. i know that getting stupid, mundane things ‘wrong’ isn’t the end of the world. i’m well aware of that, you don’t need to keep reassuring me of that, okay? because that reminder just makes me feel worse, because it means i’m getting upset over stupid fucking things, instead of anything that’s actually bad.

which just leads to another thing that i can’t explain to people, because feeling wrong about stupid things means that I haven’t made enough of a successful effort at being better at being a functional person. That’s what winds up frustrating them, which makes me start tearing up because that’s just what fucking happens, which leads to me just not talking anymore.

because emotions are the enemy and are so often the wrong ones and so much as mentioning them just makes everyone else angry, so. it’s just. best. not to bring it up.

Like, i know that all of this is dumb. so i’m being dumb for thinking that way. But i can’t actually explain that vocally, because then people (my parents) assume (probably) that i’m saying i’m not intelligent. i can’t explain that no, that’s not what i’m saying. i’m saying that the thought itself is dumb, and that the act of thinking said thought is dumb. not that i, myself, am not smart. i know i’m smart. i’m just terrible at being smart.

so i can’t explain that. because there are different definitions for what ‘being dumb’ entails - there’s ‘i’m not intelligent’, which i think is what they conclude i’m saying when i try to explain this stuff, when it’s really, really not. what I’m saying is that the action itself is what’s moronic. but i can’t get that across without tripping over my damned tongue and pausing, and grumbling about dropped words, and frustrating everyone involved in the conversation to the point where i wind up just saying never mind, it’s not important, and changing the subject. or walking away. or letting them change the subject, because fuck knows i’m just going to get that wrong somehow too.

i can’t even fucking put something in the grocery cart when we go shopping, because that’s being super fucking rude and inconveniencing everyone. I’M TWENTY EIGHT AND I CAN’T ALLOW MYSELF THAT.

I live with my parents. that’s another failure, here in the states anyway. because i’m not independent, it’s not even the ‘starting a family’ bullshit, it’s the ‘not able to live on my own because i’m obviously not trying hard enough to not be a fucking dysfunctional coward’ bullshit.

also, for some reason everyone i know in real life, like, people who went to high school or college with me, all think it’s really out of character when they hear me swear? i dunno, because they think i’m too polite or something?

guys. no. it’s that i didn’t talk. ya know, because i’m a fucking coward. or shy. or whichever term you’ll accept for ‘human interaction is fucking terrifying and i’m going to get it wrong somehow whenever i try, so i’m just not going to fucking try that.’

(seriously, people, if i tell you i’m a coward or shy, whichever one i go with, please don’t tell me that that’s not true? because that’s like. the one way we could agree about my rampant social anxiety issues, and i would like people to accept that as an explanation for once, instead of trying to reassure me that it’s not true. because it is. those are the nice, socially acceptable ways of putting the problem.)

(also, like, reassuring me that ‘things are okay, you don’t need to get upset’ actively makes me more upset. It ALWAYS has. That’s not going to change anytime soon. For fucks sake, please stop saying that i ‘don’t need to worry.’ i’m well fucking aware of that, and when i literally ask you to stop saying that, and you say you’re going to make sure to remind me it’s okay, you are literally just making it worse and means i can’t fucking talk to you.)

basically everything is dumb, and i’m dumb and sick of being dumb, which means i’m even dumber and i can’t say a damn thing about it, because it’s rude and inconveniences everyone, and it means i’m. not. trying. hard. enough. to. make. life. work.

... see, if i could, like, print this shit up and hand it to my therapist tuesday? (if that’s even what the meetings are? i don’t fucking know at this point) that might help. or it might get me in hot water. so i’m probably not even going to try.

because the usual reaction from pretty much anyone ever is ‘are the medications not working anymore?’ and that’s. not true? i think? they’re working. i think. but it’s not like i’d know what my actual baseline is without them. because i always feel physically awful if i miss them, but i’m an anxious wreck either way. and since said state of being a wreck is to different degrees from day to day, it’s not like i’ve got a baseline for with the medications, either.

fuck everything, is basically what i’m saying.

... i can’t tell if i got off topic or not anymore. i’m gonna go edit this for spelling and spacing issues now, because while keeping typos in might be more authentic and natural, it also means i feel like an idiot for not being better at typing when i know full well i’m spelling things wrong.

not going after capitalization though. that’d just be a pain in the ass, and caps and italics are a part of tone.

you will have to pry my formatting from my dead, colder hands.

(i run really fucking cold, or at least my extremities do. like, i can put my hand on my face, and i know that it’s way too cold to be normal. i’m pretty sure that’s a bad sign, but it’s literally always been true, so. ??? that’s just how it is.)

(yeah, wow, there were a lot of typing fumbles in here. all of those are gone now. this got stupidly long. why am i allowed to write again?)

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autistic-science-cryptid · 6 years

Text

Introduction

I am an autistic person, as I’m sure you know. And, as the title suggests, while I am not literally a cryptid, I might as well be a cryptid, at least according to autism researchers, for a number of reasons. You see, for starters,I was diagnosed with autism in the late 80s as a baby, and I mean a literal baby, just over a year old, because my mom (who later realized she was autistic and self-diagnosed as a result of watching me grow) talked to the doctors and was like “Oh by the way, I noticed that other babies look at me but my kid does not. Hmmm. I wonder why that is”. That’s the first cryptid point right there - researchers are still looking for ways to diagnose autistic kids at age 2 (so they can push that hellish ABA therapy on them - boooo) even though like two seconds of observation would enable them to see who is autistic much earlier. Which is probably a good thing if that kid has the type of parents who would push them into ABA. Good thing my parents didn’t buy into that crap, no matter how much later experience with abusive assholes convinced me they did or it was only a matter of time before they did.

Secondly, since I didn’t know how to please IQ testers when I was really little and had not been pushed through official ABA by my parents, the “experts” claimed I was (and this is their word, not mine) “retarded”. Which, as we know, is a slur, but was a medical term in use back then, before they said “intellectually disabled”. Fine thing to put on a baby. And here’s the thing: No intellectually disabled person can write the way I’m doing right now. So one more cryptid point - apparently the real me didn’t exist to them then, either.

Thirdly, when I was really little, a dog (whose owner foolishly claimed he “loves kids”) got its mouth around my throat, and my autistic nervous response of freezing up in the face of that type of danger is the only reason I’m not six feet under right now, as pretty much any neurotypical kid would have been when confronted with a situation like that. So one more cryptid point for me. Especially since I always have and still love dogs, and if anything, that incident had me firmly convinced that dogs are not mindless killing machines, because if they were, I’d be dead. Whereas a response I had to a teacher ducking me underwater and giving me fake praise was more normal - it made me afraid of the water, and only a teacher from the YMCA cured me of that fear, whereas the special ed middle school I went to, which had a pool, only punished me for that fear. I’ll get back to special ed later.

Yay “errorless learning! (/sarcasm)

I also used to stack a little table on top of a chair when I was a kid to reach stuff because for some reason, my dad always put Cheerios on top of a really high wardrobe (Gee, thanks) And I never fell because I was careful climbing that precarious structure. One more cryptid point for me - kids normally aren’t able to do that.

I am also a person who was in private Special Ed schools from the time I was like ten months old throughout high school, and my middle and high school in particular was emotionally abusive to me. While they never officially claimed to use ABA, they did - if it walks like ABA, talks like ABA, and quacks like ABA, it is ABA no matter what you call it. And really, it’s quite weaselly presenting your core discipline method as like a fun extra for your students to earn (which I found out on their website years later). It’s especially weaselly given that this method was the exact method used to punish me for not swimming a length of the school’s pool due to the fear of the water (and especially the deep end) that I mentioned earlier, a fear that wasn’t even as difficult to solve as many other hydrophobia cases, so of course a Y teacher was able to fix it. Throughout that time, but particularly during middle school years, I tried multiple different little schemes (not adult-level schemes, kid-sized ones) to try to be a more successful kid (so yes, I do sympathize with Pa Ingalls, even as I recognize that it is far more problematic for him to do that than for kid me to because he had several people to look out for and I had zero). That’s another cryptid point - usually you see that kind of behavior pattern from grown men, not tween girls.

As an extra bonus, the special ed high school I went to let me into their college program the first year, one where you take college courses for credit, and I got an A in that course. Nevertheless, my school had set me up to fail that - they had a lady teacher sit next to me, one who was entitled as fuck. This teacher whined about her job to us, and also bragged at one point about how Tom Cruise called her and was polite to her. I mean, hello? Tom Cruise is a Scientologist, and assuming that teacher wasn’t lying, the only reason Tom Cruise would call some random teacher is to recruit her into Scientology. But of course, that teacher was so full of herself that she could not see that. This teacher also, when confronted, said “I have other kids to worry about”. Nevermind that I was the only student from that special ed program that she was sitting next to. She also allowed me to work on a project alone instead of in a group because of course I was going to take that option when they offered it (even though I am perfectly capable of working on group projects). But them allowing me that option was a setup.

That, combined with talking to myself and maybe poor grooming was what they used as an excuse to kick me out of that program. Though they never told me about poor grooming as a reason, and it was usually my parents they hid things from, so I’m not sure poor grooming was what they were primarily concerned with. Anyhoo, it seems as though talking to myself was enough to get me kicked out of that program in spite of getting an A, with the teachers literally laughing like bullies at my parents as they told my parents the news, and furthermore, they recommended me for VESID, which was really just recommending that I live in a sheltered workshop (which I would have shot myself in the foot in - I am a fast worker at certain tasks, and had my parents agreed to the sheltered workshop placement, I would have given the people my best performance, and ended up getting paid less than minimum wage, and worse, they would never let me go because they would be using me to pick up the slack for other workers and would find all sorts of excuses not to let me move on).

So the A alone may as well be a cryptid point. As is my using NYC public transportation all by myself - those fuckheads claimed I couldn’t travel independently, even though I had been using the subway all by my lonesome to get to the work experience programs I did the last year (in former years, I had gone to work experience stints on the bus). So, pathetic as it may seem, my ability to use the subway/bus all by my lonesome is another cryptid point.

I also get a few more cryptid points for currently studying animal behavior and cognition in grad school and working on a Master’s thesis (which I won’t talk about so, again, as not to dox myself). Let me explain.

First of all, in spite of being kicked out of that program, the high school let me graduate, and the way they described me was literally how intellectually disabled people are described. And, while intellectually disabled people are themselves severely underestimated, they certainly are not going to be in graduate school working on a Master’s thesis in animal behavior and cognition, because the scientific papers alone would be cognitively inaccessible to them - even the lay version of scientific papers might not be cognitively accessible to an intellectually disabled person. So, according to that logic, I should not even be where I am right now.

Furthermore, some of the top people at that school are ableist as fuck, and totally champion clicker training, both for animals (which is iffy in and of itself, especially as a general behavior training for highly social and compliant species like dogs) and for, you guessed it, autistic people. They totally support ABA “therapy” as well (and yes, they support electrically shocking kids as punishment and claim it is less cruel than either medicating or restraining kids who self-injure, which is bullshit and completely dances around the fact that kids at the Judge Rotenberg Center get shocked for minor things) and they totally gloss over some pretty alarming signs. They, of course, claim I am totally high-functioning with no issues whatsoever, so to them, the side of me that has meltdowns and occasionally self-injures is also a cryptid, since apparently autistic people who can get a Master’s degree can’t have meltdowns. Even though I do get those from time to time. So one more cryptid point for meltdowns.

This is a random list of talents and abilities I have (just those, if you don’t feel like reading a list of talents, you can always skip that part)

I can do a perfect kitty meow (seriously, you would think there is a cat in there if you were in the room when I did it). And I can also stim (god, I wish autocorrect would use that as an actual word) by rhythmically tossing a ball back and forth without looking, and I can also produce songs simply by clicking my tongue. Yes, that’s a thing, although I’ve never seen anyone else do it. Believe me or not if you wish, but I’m not about to dox myself by putting up a video, especially since I don’t want to be blacklisted as a result of smear campaigns by ableist researchers. Three cryptid points right there. Four if you count me teaching myself some sort of impromptu gymnastics move at one point (well below Olympic level - it wouldn’t even qualify for a low-level gymnastics competition)- I have no idea what the hell that move looks like or what to call it. I only know how it feels, so don’t ask.

Five cryptid points if you count the fact that on occasion the neuronal electricity from my hand jumps out and “pushes” a computer button before I even touch it - it’s not really a reliably controllable act, but it is a weird quirk I have, and that I share with my mom. The only reason that isn’t a problem is because it only seems to “push” a few types of buttons and coincides only with my hand approaching the button, never before that, which is how I know it’s nerve electricity and not a glitch. If you think that’s woo, don’t follow me - I never claimed to be able to teach anyone how to do that or to identify whether someone has that ability (unless they tell me and don't falsely claim to be able to control it only to show no such ability), and it’s not like I can sell that quirk for money, either. And I can’t control it anywhere near reliably enough to prove it scientifically, either, which is probably a big reason why abilities like that (along with telepathy, which I have only ever heard of in real life, mostly not from me but from others I know, as being a random, uncontrollable occurrence or else, as in one case, so laughably pathetic that pretty much any scientific test for telepathy will never detect said ability) were never officially found, so don’t hold your breath waiting for that kind of thing.

One more talent I have is this: after seeing Orlando Bloom as Legolas (I’m aroace, so I don’t have a crush on him and don’t get any ideas) do a catlike leap onto a rock, I tried that same move and got it right on the first try, even though I had read he found it difficult to do. But then again, he’s a foot taller than me, and he has an acquired disability from foolishly walking, sober, onto a thin piece of metal that could not support his weight, and falling three stories, so maybe it’s a cryptid point, maybe not, because being a foot shorter than the guy you see doing a catlike balance move would make it pretty easy to out-cat him any day. Especially since I would never make the kind of mistake he did, because from what I can gather, Orlando Bloom is a pretty cocksure guy (kind of like Legolas, really, personality wise - too bad they made him play what seemed to be an entirely different character than the one in the book who is probably more like Orlando Bloom than the Legolas Orlando Bloom played), and I am not cocksure. Obviously not literally, because I am cis female, and not metaphorically, either.

#emotional abuse #abuse #child abuse #dangerous animals #dangerous dogs #aba #actuallyautistic #special ed #special education #judge rotenberg center #jrc #tongue-in-cheek #but the story is true #not fictionalized

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thelastgayrdian · 6 years

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tw: i don’t feel pure

i never thought i’d come across telling this to anybody on text, in front of the whole world, but hell, since this blog isn’t known to my friends or anything i thought i’d just vent for the heck of it because that is what i desperately need right now.

i don’t have much contact with my friends anyway, and it’s proven to be way too difficult to simply pick up the phone and text even just saying “hi” to someone i actually care about... so difficult it’s ridiculous. my family isn’t really close to me at the moment, at least at a level so i could confide my thoughts to them. as you can tell i’ve been lonely as hell but too tired to do anything about it... i guess now i know where that tiredness really comes from.

the idea to write these thoughts down came actually a few hours ago. not much longer than that. i had the most wonderful day that a few simple moments ruined, and i’m not talking about making me momentarily upset or down - it triggered me. triggered me into memories of my past and triggering me into realising why it all had happened, after all my life of confusion and denial. i’m still dealing with those thoughts that happened, and i’ll get to them later, but for the sake of background information, let me share a piece of my past with you. also note the huge trigger warning (TW) at the beginning, so proceed at your own risk.

i’ve always been shy. i don’t know where it came from, but through years of examining and now bringing it up with a professional, i have come to terms with a possible reason. along with my wild imagination, limited but passionate interests, exceptional linguistic and artistic talents, high sensitivity and difficulties in several areas of my everyday life (social, physical, emotional, all that jazz) it is a very high possibility i have autism. i have no problem with it, except for how people take it and place stereotypes on me - at least it’s better than my original diagnosis i still have to live with in terms of therapy and medication.

anyway, the shyness was always there, but during the years i found amazing friends i could actually trust for the first time. the first, what, three of them? well, they all moved away from town before i even turned 9. most of which i never heard of again until my teens. i thought i found new ones, but oh how wrong i was. how stupid i was to trust them. basically that’s where my trust issues began, if we dig deep.

in my 6th year of school, the last of primary school, i got major depression. i was later also diagnosed with social anxiety. i was not just sad, as my friends thought i was, the same friends who belittled my emotions, berating me for ‘not being happy enough’ to be seen in their company, and constantly reminded me that ‘many people have it worse, get over it’.

i was really, really deep in depression.

i had been with what i thought were my friends yet i felt so lonely. friendly reminder i had just ‘lost’ my brother to puberty, one of my truest best friends i have ever had turned to me as his worst enemy through our teens. my cousin who i loved so much, felt so far away, with all her amazing friends and her being 13 and starting middle school - all attention from my relatives also on her. i was being heavily berated by my only friends every day, living with their toxic words, and learning my biggest flaw: i was easily manipulated. and so they did, and i was forced to shut out the last person who i cared about at school, and forced to do things i live in guilt with even today, just to please them and not lose the only people i considered my friends. (talk about self esteem issues yeah)

anyway i started cutting that year. and eating poorly, not intentionally but mostly snacking on painkillers to numb my nerves. i slept 3-4 hours each night because i was afraid of the nightmares. i was actively thinking about suicide. attempting it as well. i was still 12.

i didn’t have therapy yet so i told nobody about it, but it showed later in the form of a lump on my breast. later i learned it was a reaction from my body to the chemical disturbance (depression), but at the time there were heavy concerns around me about a tumor. for many months i was examined and went to tests, and through treatments the lump slowly started to fade. however when i told my friends this big secret i had kept from them for months, they were only interested in how the “men doctors groped your tits”. laughing the matter off like it was some kind of a joke.

and with a the lowest self-esteem in the world and me being easily manipulated, my subconscious started to believe that was the case.

i cut the ties to those friends (and got the accusations of ‘anger issues’) when i accepted that loneliness was the only friend i needed. ‘i would leave this world soon anyway’. however i quickly by accident met new people, and my wounds started to heal. they were the first real friends in my life, that i am still grateful of today. we don’t talk anymore but that doesn’t keep me from being thankful for them being actually good to me.

the whole 7th year was both a mess and a blessing. i kept close contact with my friends even though i switched to another school as i moved to secondary school. i started playing world of wacraft and fell head over heels for it, it was my escape and made life feel like living. it sounds crazy but it’s true. for the most part though, it was a a mess. i had online friends who i loved more than anything and who deserted me suddenly and i still haven’t gotten over the pain of losing them. at the same time i got destructive friends at my new school. glares and ignores and actions that spoke of how they belittled me followed everywhere. the one i actually dared to trust, well, she always laughed at my plight, and once as i accidentally said i wanted to die she started listing me ways of how i could kill myself, then told about my “angst” and “emo-ness” to all her friends. yeah what a “friend” right?

this all seems unnecessary but it ties up with how i ended up at a mental hospital a year later. it was a horror story but to sum it up: i lost my only friends and got lonely again, my depression creeped back behind me, i was constantly stressed and i ultimately started having signs of psychosis. my therapy had ended and when i contacted my therapist, i found myself locked in a strange hospital room miles away within the next hours.

over the next six months i went from one medication to the other to another until i was stuck with one the non-finnish speaking doctor believed was suitable. it was all but fucking suitable. my psychosis, the one that it should have treated, got a worse turn. i got completely delusional, paranoid, couldn’t trust my own senses or footsteps or anything, couldn’t sleep because i was afraid of the sudden noises, was terrified of the sunlight and hid mostly under a desk, heard voices and cries within the walls, saw ghosts and evil shapes wherever i turned... it was a fucking living nightmare. it didn’t take long until the diagnosis of psychotic depression turned into schizophrenia.

i had switched schools a bit before christmas to a hospital school near the place i was living in. i got a friend there, someone who cared about me for the first time in ages. i also got another friend, online, who made the previous doubts about the breast doctors’ intentions seem like a luxury thought.

keep in mind i was mentally damaged and broken, and welcomed a young man who convinced me of being my friend ever since i told him i leaned towards girls (my first huge crush being a girl and present at the moment). we slowly became best friends, as he called us. yet it was strange how all this time we chatted on skype or whatever, i never saw his face. only his groin. usually bare. yeah. talk about gross. yet he always said that his ‘penis’ would protect me from the world, and even though he desperately tried to get me to show parts of my body as well, he never succeded (i always told him i would save my body for a girlfriend). yet we stayed as best friends, close as ever - why? because i was fucking crazy, remember? i was so confused and had absolutely no chance to tell the difference between a friend and a pedophile. hell, i didn’t even know if the nurse that just talked to me was real, or that it wasn’t actually a cat in disguise.

that man even made me to watch him masturbate (because i blindly thought it was a ‘declaration of friendship’ as he always said), and asked me if he could think of me while doing so. i guess he did, i can’t remember. he also wanted me to move in with him when i got to upper secondary school, and since i knew no ‘better friend’ like him, i was really excited and wanted to really live with my best friend. now i realise i had totally not comprehended the fact he actually told me, many times, how he wanted to sleep in the same bed with me and how he didn’t want to wear pants in my presence. i was still 14, lost my childhood to depression, and had never experienced anything like this - with a clouded mind, i vaguely recalled any strict warnings from the adults from my childhood.

at the time i was devastated the day he disappeared. today i call it the luckiest day of my life.

so 9th year started. i got back to being close with my friend at school, so close actually i developed a huge crush on her. the biggest one yet. i admitted my feelings to her. at first she accepted it, but told me to my sadness that she didn’t feel the same. however the moment i started getting over her and talking about pretty girls, i don’t know what happened, but she suddenly said she liked me back. her love was fluid, though, sometimes she talked very romantically with me, sometimes she ignored my affection. and so began the first and hopefully the last ‘it’s complicated’ relationship in my life. yeah, you caught the hint from my previous relationships - it was destructive. and yeah, you caught the hint from my previous life experiences i had learned absolutely nothing about because of my long-term illness - i was blind and just kept on loving her, kept on trying to win her over so we could be the girlfriends we always talked about being, but never were.

at the time two things happened: she started to see my vulnerability, how easily i was to be manipulated; and a new teacher happened.

let’s talk about the teacher, whose name i still can’t bear to say out loud. he was a friendly man in his 50s, trying hard to be funny and only getting our pity. still, i warmed for him, and was friendly to him back. that was until the episodes started again, the episodes that tormented my whole 8th year of school even at the hospital school. while a year ago i would be completely irrational, speak incoherently, have complete mind and body shutdowns and throw desks at things, this time i “only” had panic attacks and dreadfully long whiles of dissociation/derealisation, things i still deal with today although at a milder level. i had gained many pounds from the many medications over the time at the hospital, and in my desperate determination to reduce the fat, I was revisited by an even more difficult eating disorder than the ones i have had before, this one darker in nature and lasting much longer than the rest.

the teacher became a protective ward of some sort, which made me friend imply in teases of “he’s really into you, that’s why he puts so much attention to you”. i never wanted his attention at all, it felt wrong that he abandoned everybody else for my sake, especially when things got worse - and i’m not talking about my mental condition.

suddenly he changed completely. he followed me around, took every chance he got for a touch (nudging, bumping into me, etc, all of this happening more than what could be called an accident) and it got to the point that every time i was as much as lost in thought for a few seconds too long, he took me to the teachers’ room, locked the door, asked me questions of how i felt... while keeping my shivering body still by touching and caressing me all the while constantly licking his lips. the worst was how he always touched my thigh, and held me there for so long. but in my shock, could i really scream? would anybody believe me? i would definitely be locked up again, so i kept quiet. all these years i kept quiet.

i would be haunted by touches in my waking hours and it didn’t help that my friend, my biggest crush, always commented me how people ogled at me and what they wanted to do to my ‘sexy’ body. i never considered my body to be sexy, never wore anything revealing especially since i was covered in cut marks. i started feeling insecure and hiding my body even more than before, stopped buying clothes, even loathing the thought of swimming. i had recently recovered from my ED and tried my best not to cut. still, i couldn’t stand the sight or the feel of my body.

to this day, i hate my body. i fucking hate it.

the nightmare only got fueled by my biggest love’s words. she sent me a message one evening, when i dreamed about our future and told her everything through whatsapp, that she didn’t feel the same way, that she couldn’t keep lying about her feelings to someone she considered a friend. i had noticed her flirting with and talking about boys she said she didn’t care about, but man, i didn’t know it was all a lie. all our romance was a big fucking lie. a fake. that was the end of our love affair, which left me scarred for the longest time. after years of staying friends on-and-off, after years of letting my emotions out only to be met with anger and frustration (’why can’t you do as i say, like you always have?’), after years of keeping my frustration inside me while she called me names such as a ‘bitch’ and a ‘big complaining baby’... i cut the ties. she tried contacting me again, many times, trying to win me back through rage and lies, but it was 2017, i was almost 18, and i never turned back. i had burned the bridges, i was free, and it was the greatest decision of my life.

back to 2016. when i thought the nightmare was over - e.g. the 9th year was behind and i had been accepted to the upper secondary school of my wildest dreams - my grandmother’s sister died. i attended the funeral with my grandmother, mother and middle brother, knowing nobody from the guests but thinking it was a nice and polite idea to show my face to relatives who had not seen me since i was little.

my brother’s godfather - the deceased grandmother’s son - was there, i don’t know him well but he seems like a nice old man. the godfather’s brother was also there. after i met him, i wish he wouldn’t have.

he sat alone next to our table and started chatting out of nowhere. i was polite and friendly - he’s a distant relative, after all, i thought. suddenly he got really suspicious in our conversation, and i was glad that my brother and i were called for ice cream. the man was talking to another man, but as i stood up, he looked at me, grinned in the strangest way and winked.

he kept smiling creepily the whole time i was at the place, and only at me. i thought it was only a legend, that men could do that kind of smile, but now i had seen it. it was more than a friendly smirk. his eyes glittered in a strange way as he looked at me and smiled. from that day on, i have never trusted a man’s smile, not even being able to look at one.

it was too much. that night i cried, and cried, and cried, recalling all the times men have done me wrong. i felt like an abomination. i wiped my tears come morning, but was traumatised for life.

you thought this is going to end? it isn’t. a boy, 16 at the moment, was chosen at random to be my dance partner for wanhojen tanssit (the elderly’s dance, a dance tradition for the 2nd year of upper secondary students) and i was foolish enough to give him a chance to be my friend. i considered him a friend, though he didn’t consider me one. he was a horrible friend, too, but i just looked past that. fool, i still whisper to myself.

the boy had nothing but hormones and sex starvation in his body, and all he kept talking to me about was how he loved hentai and big boobs, watched porn on his free time, gave me details on how he masturbated, claimed to know what women loved, every time i heard him with his friends they were joking on how he couldn’t keep his pants on with a girl because he would fuck anybody, and i was just so disgusted. yet i was forced to endure due to our dance practices.

my depression got back that winter, and my thoughts were constantly about how to kill myself subtly, even though i now know it’s everything but possible. for my biggest luck the boy was denied the dance - at first to my horror as the dance was in 2 days and there were no reserves, but through a miracle my mother’s friend’s son, who had danced the dances in 2011 got to dance with me, and we became friends for real. we still talk today, though not often. i guess i didn’t see him as a threat since he too has autism and is a lgbt+ person himself, and is actually really kind.

but ever since these horrible events in my life, i have feared men. i have dreaded to be with men, to interact with them, to even look at them. nowadays i find men - strangers and relatives alike - to be scary.

one example is a man who has been around me at the worst times - ranging from family gatherings to surprise visits when i’m with family somewhere - is considered the friendliest of our relatives and i am absolutely terrified of him. he hasn’t done anything, but my fears hammer in my head every time i even know he’s in the same building. it doesn’t help that he’s young and divorced and everybody likes him, and i just can’t stand him. it isn’t fair, i guess. but looking at my past, i have grown to be overly precautious.

i am still struggling even though i’ve opened up about this issue to many people, and they encourage me to fight the fear. for months now, i thought i was getting better. even through my lingering depression and the psychologists’ suspicions about new diagnoses (autism paired with the bipolar type of schizoaffective disorder), i felt the fear was going to go away and never return.

today it all got a reverse. if you didn’t know i have signed up for a so called ‘running school’ where they teach about how to run properly, both in theory and practice. today only one of the teachers who do these 4-time classes was present, and this time we were practicing stretching. a woman blunted out to me how i was doing it all wrong, and from the sudden attention i was frozen, and all the faces turned to me. the teacher was quick to act and corrected me, by grabbing my bare shoulders and arms and guiding me to a correct position.

you know what my reaction was? you wouldn’t think of it, but at the same time, you would: utter shock. memories. dread. trauma. all that i had buried, now bubbled up in seconds by the mere touch of a man.

it didn’t help that i only had a tank top on my upper body. i started shivering and lost concentration, and soon was guided again, to another place where i could practice. the touch, again. the last minutes felt like hours as i tried to even out my breathing in front of these strangers minding their own business; i couldn’t risk humilitaing myself with a panic attack. too many questions. too much attention from the man that from that moment i avoided and couldn’t even speak to or look at.

he was being friendly, a stranger helping a stranger. he wasn’t struck by my sudden withdrawal, probably didn’t even notice. continued being friendly as always, in a way a complete stranger teaching other people can be. neutral.

yet the whole way home i was fighting. fighting away tears, fighting away dissociation, fighting away panic, fighting away the memories. every step i took was another thought - no, i know as i am writing this, another truth.

i am stupid for letting my guard down. i am even more stupid when i had not seen the warnings in the past, otherwise no more bad things would’ve happened than the first incident. blind. fool. sick. cold. out of reach of a woman’s love. crybaby. slut. burden. worthless. my soul is dirty with all the words, the looks, and my body is filthy with all the actions, the touches. i don’t feel clean. i don’t feel pure. i am never to be pure again. i have brought this upon myself. i had asked for this. i had asked for all that has ever happened. it’s all my fault. i have lost my innocence, my virtue, and it’s all my fault. it’s all my fault. it’s all my fault. it’s all my fault. it’s all my fault.

for the first time ever, i do believe it’s all my fault.

#my first vent is very serious hahahahahahahaha

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inotes · 7 years

Text

The One & Only Cure-All

Adderall saved my life. But after nearly 5 years, I began to worry it was taking years off of it. About a year and a half ago, I began weaning myself off because I was experiencing some health issues that I thought might be related to taking Adderall.

I developed symptoms early on that I had never experienced before. There was the anxiety that made taking even a 5-minute car ride feel like an eternity and restless leg syndrome that made even sitting feel like jogging. After about four years of Adderall, anti-anxieties, and mood stabilizers, I also developed asthma. I've never had allergies or asthma in my life, so I didn't know that's what it was, but my ability to breathe was progressively getting worse and I was afraid that one day I would just stop being able to breathe altogether. I did a ton of research and had lots of tests done to try and figure it out. One doctor even told me I was just stressed, which is usually what they say when they just don't know how to diagnose something.

Eventually, I began taking a $350 steroid inhaler which had to be replenished every month and was not covered by insurance. In addition to the unreasonable cost, my breathing was only about 70% better and if I didn’t closely follow the directions, I could get a yeast infection in my mouth from the inhaler. I just couldn’t accept that out of the blue all of the sudden I had developed asthma for seemingly no reason at all. Doctors would only provide a prescription for symptoms, so I went on a quest to solve the problem myself.

Adderall Detox

After researching forums with comments from people who were taking the same medications and experiencing similar symptoms, I was convinced the development was due to all the medication I was on. I also learned that the way Adderall and many other mood stabilizers work is by blocking your brain from receiving aminos (what your brain is made of) and your body from receiving sodium. This can wreak havoc on your system.

I immediately stopped taking all the medication except for the Adderall which I began slowly reducing my dose of each month to avoid having unmanageable withdrawals.

Separately, an exceptionally talented pharmacologist suggested my asthma was due to a build up in my system of all the medication I was taking and recommended a 3-month detox regimen that included replenishing my body of its amino’s, as well as naturally treating my ADD symptoms. This helped a ton and I could finally actually breathe on my own without any issues.

Finding The Root Of The Problem

Once I completed the 3-month program, I had some additional tests done and learned I have gluten, dairy, and soy allergies, as well as a common genetic mutation called MTHFR, which means my body can't methylize (turn it into a usable form) folic acid (an important nutrient responsible for brain development). Folate (or folic acid) is such an important nutrient that doctors prescribe it to pregnant women to prevent potential birth defects caused by a deficiency of it.

In relation to the food allergies, studies have shown an 80% correlation between people with celiac disease and autism, and autistic people who stop eating gluten stop showing autistic behavior even before their digestive system begins improving. If a gluten allergy could be related to autism, could it also be related to other neurological disorders, like ADD?

The Trade-Off

After changing my diet and detoxing for about a year, I have had much improvement with the help of plenty of special supplements designed for my genetic mutation and food allergies. However, after being off Adderall completely for 6 months and reducing my dose for even longer, my energy level, motivation, and ability to focus have all been exhausted for over a year now. Perhaps the winter months are just extending the symptoms, but I’m unable to absorb all of the vitamin-D I take in supplement form, and without dairy, I just don't get enough.

Without Adderall, the majority of my day is spent sleeping or trying to find the energy to work, only to squeeze out a mere 2 hours of work. I struggle with the fact that I am so unproductive and so now I've decided to take the smallest dose of Adderall (extended release only) every day for the remainder of the winter and will try going off it again once I can get my vitamin D from the sun again. I have been experiencing some asthma; could be from the Adderall, could be from the really poor air quality where I live right, could be both. But for now, it's worth the trade-off.

I make sure I'm consistent with my dose- I take the same amount every day whether I feel like I need it or not because skipping a day here and there is dangerous and can make you really unstable. I don't take fast-acting Adderall for the same reasons. I have enough going on in my head- I don't need suicidal thoughts, too.

Addressing It From All Angles

Just about all of us have some sort of ailment or another. What I’ve learned is that there is just no simple cure or resolution most of the time. We are all complex individuals with a variety of problems that, when combined, are unique to only ourselves and require a custom solution designed by a whole list of experts. Our physical, mental, and emotional issues have to be addressed from all angles (mind, body, spirit). You may come across something like Adderall that seems to be the answer to all your problems at first, but soon you discover that there is more to it than that, and even more still after that. Much of it is trial and error, and there is always a trade-off: If I don't want to break out into a rash, then I shouldn't eat pizza, but if the only food I enjoy is pizza, then I'll take the occasional rash just to enjoy my meal once in a while (don’t get me started on gluten-free vegan alternatives). I don't like not being able to breathe, but I can at least treat the symptoms for now so I can get myself back to work and have money to bring in until I can create a better solution.

If you’ve found yourself on an endless search for a cure, my advice to you is to do the best you can with what you’ve got and try not to take yourself or your condition too seriously. I developed an eating disorder called Orthorexia after obsessing over my health too much and creating too many rules for myself. If you suffer from ADD or OCD, try your best to do things in moderation and create a balanced life where you work and play every day. Don’t over-complicate your life by adding things to it that you know you can’t manage. Focus on you first so that you're strong enough to also contribute to others and have meaning and purpose, and are building healthy relationships. Relationships are key to our happiness.

Things You Can Try

Naturopathic Doctors: If you want something tangible to try, you could talk to a naturopathic doctor- just make sure you see one that is highly credible, because, like anything, there are good ones and not so good ones. The main job of a naturopathic doctor is to get to the root of the problem, not just provide a band-aid to treat symptoms. They can help you find natural ways to treat ADHD and can test you for any food allergies, immune or genetic disorders, see if you're nutrient deficient, etc.- if you're concerned about any of that. The one I see is www.natmedlogan.com.

Health & DNA Testing: If you want a cost-effective way to test a lot of things all at once, you can go to www.23andme.com and do their Health+Ancetry test. It's $199 and will tell you nearly everything you'd want to know about your health and DNA. If you give the test results to a naturopathic doctor, they can interpret them for you, or there are sites you can upload them to for free that will do the same.

Supplements: I don't recommend taking supplements manufactured by brands you don't know you can trust. Supplements are not regulated enough in the U.S. so many are filled with things they don't put on the label and sometimes they don't even include the supplement listed on the label at all. If you don’t believe me, watch PBS’ Frontline episode on Supplements and Safety. The brands I use and trust (recommended by my doctor) are Priority One, Vital Nutrients, Gaia, Pure Encapsulations, and Thorne Research.

Binaural Beats: Another thing you can try is listening to binaural beats. They're meant to retrain your brain waves similar to how you might burn a CD and then burn over it again with something else (maybe you’re too young to remember burning CD’s but hopefully you get the point). They pattern-interrupt your brain when it gets stuck- like when we get stuck in a pattern of negativity so much we can't stop, and then one day something different happens and we just snap out of it and are fine. I know that when I’m up or down, I can’t make any logical sense of how I got to that place- there’s no single clear cause that I can pinpoint and use to get me back to my happy-go-lucky self or to steer clear of waking up on the wrong side of the bed and ending up in a funk again. Binaural beats help break the pattern our brains waves get stuck in and re-route them to the desired frequency. There are many different ones for just about anything you can think of- ADD, sleep, depression, anxiety, energy, immune system, etc. You can find them on YouTube or Spotify and listen to them while you sleep or while you're awake, for a long time or short. For best results, use headphones when you play them. I listen to them every day- how often you need to will depend on you and your environment.

Plan A Good Strategy

Once you get into finding a cure, it can consume your life, and if you have ADD, you're prone to allow it to do so. Set up some rules and boundaries for yourself before you begin to keep things in check once you start, and make sure you have a good support system for when it gets to be too much. Here are some rules you might consider adopting:

Daily Balance- 15-30 min of exercise; sleep 9-10 hours; 15 min of sunshine; personal time; challenge your brain; contribute to society; socialize; laugh; eat a balanced diet with healthy carbs, fats (for the brain), fiber, and rich nutrients; stay hydrated; reward yourself; etc.

Don't do anything for more than 2 hours at a time without taking a break.

Play music that makes you want to sing or dance. Dance.

Create Pinterest boards, video, music (and binaural beats), and reading playlists that you can refer to when you need help getting out of a funk. I have a "pull your head out of your ass" playlist that reminds me to not take everything so serious.

Remove anything toxic from your life.

If you get stuck in a negative pattern, swear off anything but comedy in your life for several months.

Don't be too hard on yourself and don't be too hard on others.

Meditate. I recently came across Yoga Nidra, which can be done in any quiet place where you can lay down and put headphones on for up to 30 minutes. It stimulates creativity, energy, mental clarity and focus, and reduces stress, anxiety, and depression.

Make a clear list of your goals, limitations, expectations and exceptions. If I find myself obsessing about something new, I know it will lead to burn out, and I must find a way to address it in moderation.

This is not an exhaustive list of things I’ve tried or come across. There’s also the problem with fluoride and chlorine in our water, mercury poisoning from dental work, good and bad bacteria, a whole library of necessary nutrients, micronutrients, phytonutrients, and nano-nutrients that will all make your head spin, the problem with our food supply, electromagnetic fields, red and blue light therapy, SDD light therapy, aromatherapy, a variety of different types of psychotherapists, a variety of different types of diets, infrared saunas, regular saunas, Chinese medicine, acupuncture, massage therapists, kundalini yoga, Buddhism, enlightenment....the list goes on and on and on. They all claim to be the cure-all but again- you should address it from all angles, and with ADD, take things in moderation.

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