Please note that, with rare exceptions, any and all names mentioned in this blog are pseudonyms except our own. We want to be able to speak freely without doxxing anyone.
And by “problem”, I mean “the possibility of an ovarian cyst”.
I didn’t sleep well last night and as such slept through most of the morning and into the early afternoon because fuck this particular noise with a cactus.
I’ve never had an ovarian cyst before that I know of, but anything to do with the reproductive organs and this fucking body hurts like a bitch. This is no exception.
I’ll be back later when I’ve received caffeine, more sleep, or both. Which means the next post will likely be tomorrow. At least there are cute cats here..
What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
Staying alive, in all honesty. We live in a hellscape and I’m under a lot of stress right now being a repository of knowledge and stress buffer/mediator for a lot of people. It’s so bad right now that I don’t know how I feel personally about a lot of the situations I’m the human DMZ in, and I am currently too exhausted to try. Alexithymia and chronic fatigue are bitches and a half.
I’m still trying to care for myself as best as possible in all of this, finding a balance is just…. Difficult. It’s one of the reasons my phone is eternally on Do Not Disturb. It gives me some semblance of artificially manufactured peace and quiet amidst all the chaos.
I think in another life, I would have made a great emergency medical technician.
When we were younger, Xavier would often help us clean up our room and things because we would find it extremely overwhelming due to the sheer amount of crap we had (and frankly didn’t need or want in hindsight) and the fact that we would forget where we put the shit we did want five minutes later.
So he’d have us make up our bed and use it as a staging area, gently but firmly guiding us through sorting our things into piles of shit to throw away, shit to file in certain cabinets, and generally keeping us on task as a body double. It was much easier to clean that way.
He wouldn’t yell, he’d crack jokes and tell stories, he was a great person to clean with. He himself was neurodivergent to shit and his office was quite often a wreck, but the man was a goddamned genius and he was one of the only people who could motivate me in particular calmly.
Memories of cleaning with him are some of the only fond memories of doing chores we have. Most of the rest are very traumatic and unpleasant.
I got to thinking about cleaning with him because I just dumped my afternoon dose of meds out on my bed to see what I was doing better, using the bed as a staging area like he used to do with me..
These prompts, have been going OFF lately. Here’s today’s.
What bores you?
Well, I am an AuDHDer, so, in short… Pretty much everything after a point, fortunately or unfortunately. My brain is hardwired for two things, as best I can determine, and those things are patterns and novelty, such that after I get used to something, I can tune it out. It can, in every meaningful way, cease to exist to me.
That skill has served me very well during situations where I was being actively abused – I would memorize my abusers to such a degree that I could work around them and they’d be all but nonexistent to me. In situations where I actually give a shit but things are just moving too damn slowly for my brain that processes shit at roughly the speed of the manhole we accidentally launched into space, it’s a helluva curse and I would rather die than be stuck in whatever situation I’m in waiting. Patience is not my strong suit. So I tend to live in my head a lot to pass the time.
The one consistent exception to this is when something pisses me the fuck off. Then it’s eternally interesting and it’ll get stuck in my head until I solve it. I cannot count the number of special interests I’ve gotten into because someone told me I couldn’t ever do them.
I am a contrarian little bitch who finds ways or fucking makes them…
People who are straightforward, honest, and the only bullshit they give me is the joking kind. Preferably, they can see shit about me that I can’t, and can do shit that I can’t without making me feel like shit for it. They don’t talk my ear off constantly about meaningless shit and believe that words have as much power as actions and use both in tandem.
I’m very picky about the people I surround myself with, and it’s a high bar because I have made peace with solitude most days, being mostly housebound and all, to the point where if I prefer being alone more than I enjoy spending time with a person, I simply won’t engage with them if I don’t have to. I am too tired and have too much shit to do (as well as people I actually like) to pay the people I dislike much mind. My energy is precious and I don’t have much of it. So I do my best to use it wisely. My favorite people get that and go to great lengths to help me protect the little energy I have.
I’m not proud of a lot of the way my life has gone, and there’s a lot that happened that’s entirely outside of my control. However, I’m damn proud of the fact that I picked great people.
Guess who has 1.33 functioning hands, just woke up, rolled over, and Googled “how to win a Pulitzer” and is now probably going back to sleep now that she understands the submission procedure?
This bitch ✨
I’m so tired despite taking my head honcho migraine meds when I finally collapsed at about 3:30 this morning , but hey… At least I know how to (possibly) win a Pulitzer now 🤣
