For once, I am actually happy.
Not feeling stupid happy. Just happiness in general. I know there are going to be times where I am not happy, but right now, I see the bright side.
I’m actually getting things worked on and dealt with. I am in pain, which will not go away, but at least mentally, I’m functional again. I’m writing. I’m creating. That is important to me. A famous quote says that a non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity. It’s not wrong.
I am feeling much more me than I have in years… and I like it.
I can only hope that this continues and that I can continue to be happy.
Enjoy a song that makes me smile lately.
I swear, I need more sticky notes.
My life is on sticky notes. There are sometimes that I swear that I keep 3M in business by my purchases of sticky notes alone.
Why you ask? Because I need to have notes in areas I can see them. Otherwise, in true ADHD fashion, I will lose them. Also known as putting them in a very secure place for later.
Sadly, later can be up to a decade. Yep, that’s helpful, isn’t it?
My health is improving, but I am adjusting to new medications and their side effects. Right now, I am the sticky note queen because of this. Neon colours work best, and not putting them on the whiteboard is always a good idea (because no one wants leftover sticky on their whiteboard, do they?).
I also use them for idea mapping when it comes to my writing. Until recently I didn’t know they made white board things bigger than a desk blotter that you can put on the wall (and “desk blotter” reveals that I am old), so I’ve gotten used to index cards and sticky notes all over the place. I mean, it looks like I’m planning a crime spree sometimes – and that might be easier than trying to keep a timeline together with multiple characters.
So, if you see a woman at Staples with a metric crapload of sticky notes… it might be me.
Not every disability is visible folks. I don’t know how many times we need to repeat it for the people in the back.
Let me say it again.
NOT EVERY DISABILITY IS VISIBLE
I have had my fair share of people tell me that I’m not old enough to be disabled (and… not everyone who is disabled is a senior citizen), that I don’t look sick. Well folks, considering that I’m not an animal with an exoskeleton, you can’t see where my spine is seriously injured. Guess what? I was a child when the initial injury happened. I also have fibromyalgia – which means my nerves are pretty much set to eleven most days. We’re not even going to get into the mental health disabilities because that’s an entry all on its own.
Combine those two alone and there is a reason I have an accessible parking permit. Contrary to most able-bodied persons thinking – they don’t hand those things out like candy.
Today it really hit me about my disability. I can no longer go to events where I am going to have to stand for a long period of time. I can’t even guarantee that I’ll be able to sit for a long period of time without severe pain. I saw a concert listing, something that just five years ago I’d have leapt at the opportunity to go to. I measured my want to go with the pain that actually going would cause me, and I decided no.
People who don’t have a disability don’t get how it limits your world. You can say “go beyond” all you want – there comes a point where “going beyond” is nothing but ableist bullshit. You get shamed for having something wrong with you. For 99.9% of us who have something that disables us in life, we didn’t ask for it. If we could have chosen freely, we’d have NOT chosen to have it.
And that’s all I currently have to say about that.
I’m back at my desk. Finally got my computer back into its dock, and am back where I should feel comfortable. But my whole ecosystem – my desk – is messed up. I hate having a messy desk.
For some, it’s the key to creating. For me, it irks me until I get it to my level of organization. I can’t say if that’s linked to my mental illness, but I know I create more when my desk is, at worst, controlled chaos. Meaning, I know where the heck everything is.
Maybe it’s the old adage of “messy desk, messy mind”. But I know I can creatively leap better when my environment is under a certain amount of control. I’m not as bad as Wasabi in Big Hero 6, but I get him. Everything has a place and everything in its place.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some straightening up to do.
As much as I may hate it, I have to face the truth. I most likely will never be without some form of psych meds for the rest of my life.
While I would love to have a brain with neurotransmitters that work. But, that’s not what I’ve got. I’ve got a slightly abnormal version, and while sometimes I love how my brain works – other times, I hate it.
I am so sick and tired of being told that I can think myself out of depression. That if I tried harder, my ADHD would go away.
Well, that’s not going to happen. I need meds. Pharmaceuticals are a godsend for me because with them I can function. Without them, I would likely have died many years ago – and most likely by suicide. But, thanks to them, I am here. I’m not going to disagree that getting out and getting exercise is a help. It is, however, not a fix all. It’s one tool in a toolkit. It works great for some, not so much for others.
We need to stop shaming people with mental illnesses. They are no different than diabetics needing insulin or people with near/far sightedness needing corrective lenses. Shaming prevents people from getting the help they need. It kills.