So I don’t presently have insurance and hubby lost his job again last week and I’m almost out of my anti depressants.
The local free clinic doesn’t do mental health so I called the regular clinic. $168 out of pocket just for the visit. Plus the cost of the meds (which is about $80 a month). Plus they’ll bill me anything over the $168.
Not helping my stress levels but I gotta do what I gotta do.
I gotta go into work so I sat here and watched John Barrowman videos (and the 500 miles dr who one) until I was smiling again.
Friends, family members and loved ones of learning disabled and mentally ill people need to have a working knowledge of what Executive Dysfunction is, and respect the fact that it is a prominent feature of that person’s psychology and life.
Executive Dysfunction is best known as a symptom of autism and ADHD, but it also features in depression, anxiety disorders schizophrenia, OCD (which by the way is also an anxiety disorder), personality disorders; etc, a whole myriad of mental illnesses and disabilities can result in executive dysfunction.
Years ago when I was like 14 and had recently learned of my autism diagnosis, I watched a youtube interview between autistic people, and an autistic woman said something along these lines:
“Sometimes, a lightbulb will burn out, but I cannot change it. I have the physical capability to change the lightbulb, and I want to change the lightbulb, and I know I need to do it, but because of my autism I just don’t do it. So the lightbulb remains unchanged for weeks. Sometimes people have to change the lightbulb for me.”
When she said that I related so much, because constantly throughout my whole life I have wanted and needed to do things with my wanting and needing being akin to my spurring an extremely stubborn horse who refuses to move. For the first time I learned that I wasn’t just “lazy”, I had a condition that prevented me from doing things as easily as other people can, but unfortunately it took me years since then to understand that.
Imagine that you are a horserider, but your horse is entirely unwilling to move even if you want to move. You dig in your heels, you raise the reins, but the horse refuses to respond. Your wants and needs are the rider, and your executive functions (the parts of your mind responsible for getting things done) are the horse.
I think it’s incredibly dangerous for neurotypical loved ones to not understand, or be aware of, or respect executive dysfunction. Neurotypical can assume that we are just being lazy, careless, selfish or difficult, when in reality we want to do the thing but our brains prevent us from consistently and reliably doing the thing.
That misinterpretation can lead to toxic behavior and resentment on the part of the loved one, which will harm us emotionally and do us a lot of damage gradually over time.
That damage can take the form of internal self-criticism, complicating executive dysfunction even further and making it worse.
edited for easier reading!
THISS
YOOOOOOOOOO MORE POSTS ABOUT MY LEARNING DISABILITIES YO DAWG NICE
Yep. A big part of that is my Depression being a jerk, and part of it is just how I’m wired.
The thing is, reflecting on mistakes is a great way to learn from them, and grow as a person. The trick is to recognize when that reflection stops being useful and becomes self-destructive. That’s not always easy, because the part of your consciousness that you use to separate rational from irrational can be stuck in an irrational loop, and it can be a real challenge to break out of it.
Look: we all mess up. We all do things we regret. We all hurt people when we don’t mean to, and we all hurt ourselves (or allow ourselves to be hurt) when we wish we would have protected ourselves. The difference between Good People and Bad People is reflecting on those times, making amends when necessary, and doing our best not to mess up next time.
I honestly find it hard to believe that neurotypicals…exist. Like there are people that have never had a panic attack or a suicidal thought, they’ve never experienced hallucinations or extreme paranoia, they’ve never stayed awake at night wondering if everybody hates them or what’s wrong with them.
I can’t wrap my head around the idea of being in a good state of mind, like, ever.
Oh hay so, nifty tip for dealing w/ invasive irrational thoughts.
Pretend Spock is standing by your shoulder telling you it’s “illogical” or some shit.
Getting invasive thoughts that everyone you know secretly hates you? Spock is there to be all “That is statistically improbable Captain, several of your friends have told you many times that they enjoy your company.”
Paranoid that you’re going to get hit by a car every time you walk by a road? Spock is walking beside you, calmly explaining that “You are mostly like not going to be hit by a car. You’re walking on the sidewalk, and there are no cars in sight.”
Is someone not messaging you back right away, and part of you is terrified that they’re dead in a ditch somewhere? Spock is there to be all “Captain, your friend is currently at work. They’re probably helping a customer, not dead.”
Seriously, I spend a lot of time pretending that Spock is blandly telling me why all of my irrational, invasive, and paranoid thoughts probably aren’t true.
“Spock, someone’s watching me.”
“Captain, you are alone in your apartment. Everything is fine.”
Posted on
When you’re depressed and needy, love doesn’t save you; it buries you. Unless you happen upon someone who understands you and loves parsing your emotional landscape (guys like that do exist!), you’re not going to get what you need[…] Contrary to popular belief, you do not have to dig into the deepest darkest depths of your soul to find yourself. If you’re depressed, if you’re lonely, if you’re lost, maybe digging deep isn’t the first and only thing to try. Maybe you’re already doing too much of that[…] You can focus outside yourself. You can resolve to listen to the 40 best rap albums of 2014 (according to Rolling Stone, anyway), like I’m doing right now. You can paint the walls of your apartment pumpkin orange. You can train for a marathon. You can write two pages a day. You can teach yourself Italian. You can do every one of these things at once. These are not arbitrary boudoir tricks you acquire in order to win a man. These challenges are a way through, to a different life. If you only win his love this way, you haven’t done enough. You need to set your sights on a life that’s bigger than him. That’s not “Learn to love yourself so he’ll love you too.” That’s not even “Learn to love yourself, period. Pull back from him and love yourself.” See how he’s still in the picture?
You need to identify WHAT IS BIGGER THAN HIM[…] Think like a beast, like a mountain, like a towering, essential, unimpeachable warrior. You are taking what you want, you are fulfilling your manifest destiny, you are at the center of the frame, you’re pulling in all of the focus, swallowing the landscape like an earthquake[…] Think like a merciless visionary. Buy a sewing machine and learn to sew. Buy a French cookbook and learn to cook. Buy the complete Six Feet Under series and start from the beginning. Read everything by Wallace Stegner, Jennifer Egan, and Renata Adler. It will feel arbitrary. Do it anyway. If you feel too sad to do these things, exercise first. If that doesn’t work, see a therapist. Consider less coffee. Consider how depressed you’ve been all your life, and how anxious. Consider waking up and forcing yourself to think I AM BEAUTIFUL. TODAY IS MY CHANCE TO GROW. If that doesn’t work, do something else. Look for more answers.
DO NOT SETTLE FOR SAD. DO NOT SETTLE FOR A SOGGY LIFE. Keep trying. Make adjustments. Keep doing new things. You will find who you are. Stop looking at him and stop looking in the mirror[…] I have a giant bin of journals that are just like the one I quoted. All of those journals look like wasted fucking time, but they led me here. I should’ve been reading more great books. I should’ve learned another language. I should’ve formed closer friendships when I was younger, instead of drinking too much. But I was doing something all along. I kept writing, to survive, and then one day I woke up and I thought like a merciless visionary, I thought like a conquistador, I thought like Wonder Woman with brass knuckles. Not every single day, of course, and not everyone loves me, no way. But I am my own rickety-ass invention, and every day I try to find my swagger all over again. I know how to find it most days. I don’t always look inward to find myself. Sometimes I just put on Vince Staples’s “Blue Suede.” Sometimes I just drink an extra cup of tea and do a dance and think about how good it is to stand tall, to be a monster instead of a dull girl, to not have to ask or apologize just for existing anymore.
