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I really want to be mad at today. I really do. But I’m learning to radically accept what is, and keep moving forward with love.

To recap:

1) I started my day with a less fruitful (than usual) bonus hour of Lyft, which I woke up early for after falling asleep super late (and I only had restless nightmares during sleep).

2) I then shipped over to my mom’s place to take care of her dog so the poor thing wouldn’t have to be in the crate all day. Except my mom didn’t clear a place at the table like she said she would. I was supposed to work at the house while watching the dog, but I couldn’t because I know from experience you DO NOT MOVE my mother’s things without her being present. The whole table was filled to the brim, just like every countertop in the house šŸ™ƒ

So I pivot and focus on getting Bella a walk. But I can’t find her normal collar and harness anywhere. I call Mom, and she insists the bag with the things is somewhere around. Can’t find it. I get increasingly flustered and frustrated, all while the damn fire alarm’s dead battery keeps making it chirp at odd intervals.

I try taking the alarm down, but it won’t dislodge from the wall. So there’s noise and mess everywhere, I can’t find the dog’s things, and my body is having a hard time coping with being in the house for a multitude of reasons (yay trauma).

3) BAM meltdown. My body is frozen in the front hall, just standing there, wailing. High pitched wails come out of me that I can’t control, my eyes pouring out tears. It’s like I’m there, rattling inside my meatsuit just behind my eyes, witnessing my body do these things, and I have no attachment to them or ability to step into control. Bella is confused and sits with me and starts “crying” too. Which, thankfully, kind of shocks me into a new awareness and I am able to stop myself from wailing like that. Then she starts sitting closer to me so I can keep my hand on her head/back when she moves around. She didn’t understand, but she was such a sweetheart trying to figure out how to help.

We go for a walk which grounds me a little bit. (With the wrong lead and collar, but I needed to make do.)

4) I finally ship off to my friend’s place to work in his office. I’m taking a course by Kieran Rose (the “Inside Autism Series”), so I can be better educated on the identity I hold. And naturally the first “episode” is all about the history of Autism, which is pretty horrific. I make it about halfway through before I need to drive Lyft again. Feeling the pressure, as I only have until January 6th to catch up on the videos.

4.5) I’m gearing up for a trip to MI over NYE and into January for a few things. I feel the pressure of needing to have things done before I leave, so that’s just exacerbating all of this. And I still need to make rent.

5) I’m finally on time for the bonus hour for once, and get a ride. Instead of him adding a new destination into the app, he has me go to a gas station which adds 10 extra min, as I have a ride waiting in queue. (I’ve learned my lesson, as this has happened a few times now. I don’t care if they tip in cash after, it sucks and I’m done doing it. Especially since it’s a safety risk now that I think about it.)

As I’m going to reposition the app to drive this man to his destination finally, I accidentally swipe “drop off” and lose his trip entirely. It immediately shifts to the next ride, which I had to then cancel. And Lyft says we can go offline for up to 15 min during a bonus streak, but it LIED because when I came back on, I had to start over. The ride after that took me a good 25 min out of the city one way. All this to say, I once again was denied a full opportunity at bonus money. (I need that money because I can only drive so much each day, which is why I structure my schedule around those hours.) Then as I leave the gas station, some other driver decides to use the exit-only lane as an entrance and we almost have a collision.

And the last ride of my day? An older woman started asking me about kids, told me that “they say” (and she knows, because she’s written for John’s Hopkins beforešŸ™„) that part of the development of being fully female is when we have children and breastfeed. šŸ¤¢šŸ¤® Like it’s somehow my duty, and the only way to be a “woman”. I didn’t bother telling her off, or about who I actually am. Something seemed off with her anyway. But like. WTF? AND she insisted that I tell her my deadname after I explained to her my name now is a recycled version of it.

Y’all I’m exhausted. And I started this post saying that I really want to be mad about all of this, but I can’t. All I can be is tired.

I am learning that we only have so much energy to dedicate to what’s important, and I choose today that what’s important is not being mad at the world for being rude to me (lol). Instead I’m looking at how I’ve managed to have a semi-productive day after a small meltdown (that’s a huge win), and I’m looking at how having older people in power (who are super removed from the world and how it works) is something we need to address as a society. If people want to be in power and serve their communities, they need to actually KNOW who they serve. Obviously this isn’t how things work, because most people in power are there for the power, not for the people. But goddammit can we start doing something about that???

Times are changing. The Future is Queer. We can no longer assume who people are just by looking at them, we can no longer assume that humanity neatly falls into binary categories of gender or neurotype. I’m so over how things are currently. All today’s experience can do is fuel my mission of changing the world, one connection at a time.

I sent that woman away with a smile because I knew I wouldn’t be able to change her way of thinking in a 4 minute drive to her house. I choose compassion over anger.

I choose love for others, even in their misguided knowledge. I choose love for myself, even with all my mistakes and anger. I choose love.

Life and everything in it represents–past the metaphorical–infinite possibilities. As humans, we get to BE those possibilities. If we are infinite possibilities, and we are, through what we focus our attention on, then I choose to shift my attention and seek the paths guided by curiosity, courage, and compassion.

That was a lot. Thanks for reading šŸ’œšŸ¤˜šŸŒˆ

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I had a kind of sad realization today:

My mom recently told me that she didn’t have as many birthday parties for me growing up because she was afraid kids wouldn’t show up or that they would just be mean. I had more with family, but I think I remember maybe 3 with friends throughout my whole childhood.

I always saw this as a failing to be loved (privileged, I know), but now I see that she was just trying to protect me. I didn’t have many consistent friends growing up, and the ones that were closest to me often turned into bullies or would abandon me. The first birthday party I remember, there were a lot of disinterested little ones hanging about. The second one, my next door neighbor ended up taking people over to her place which disrupted the party and made me feel like shit. The only one I really loved was the one for my 16th or 17th birthday, where I knew the people there all cared for me to some extent and it was a great time.

Before and a little into high school, I was the secretly liked kid…the one people were happy to have around without others knowing. Often as soon as it was known a relationship was present, that relationship would break for one reason or another. And the reason was usually because I wasn’t cool enough to be kept around. I mean, the kids who lived near me dubbed me as the fucking neighborhood mosquito for christ’s sake. They kept me around mostly but definitely didn’t want me there.

This isn’t to say I didn’t have a group here or there, but people drift apart, and a lot of times I was only involved as an afterthought in those groups. Or at least that’s what it felt like a lot of the time. I frequently floated from one social circle to the next, watching from the outside in while gaining personality traits (masking) that didn’t actually align to my core identity because I wanted to fit in.

I think the mix of having so many extracurriculars (always busy), overprotective parents (couldn’t go anywhere), living in a hoarder’s house (couldn’t have people over), and my neurodivergence (didn’t have healthy boundaries and couldn’t communicate properly) prevented me from making lasting relationships, as well as a secure identity, before age 25. I was spread all over the place and mostly had to endure all of it alone.

Sometimes I go to write things like this and never post it because I get insecure about how this is a lot of the human experience and mine is no different or special or worthy of others’ attention. I’m also worried I’m going to offend people who considered themselves my friend, and please, if you’re reading this and you were my friend, I’m not talking about you in these posts. I know I’ve had a few good people along the way.

Then I remember that I have a blog so I can share my experience and relate to others regardless of how regular these experiences may be for people who don’t share the same identities as me. “That’s not an autistic thing, everybody goes through that.” Sure. But at what frequency? To what detriment? This shit has affected me all my life and I’m just now able to look back on it with a new lens for better understanding, acceptance, and healing. If you’re thinking the quotation above after reading this, maybe also consider how you might not be as neurotypical as you think you are, especially if this has affected you all your life. And if that’s the case, I’m here to support you explore what that can mean for you šŸ’œšŸŒˆ

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Hello hello! It’s been quite some time, my apologies. Between life being what it is, my demand-avoidance, and insecurity, keeping things active on this site is a challenge. Thanks for still being here!

To combat most of those things, I’ve decided that moving forward, no post is too small to post! (Have I said this before? Probably šŸ˜¬) So here’s a little one I made earlier on my Facebook page about, well, paralysis from not wanting to do things incorrectly.

I was just talking with a friend about the autistic experience and we both connected over the Can’t Do It Wrong phenomenon:

1. I am often paralyzed when it comes to completing a taskā€”not because I can’t do it, but because I don’t want to do it wrong. So then:

2. I end up asking a ton of questions to clarify what the “right way” is to complete such task which leads to:

3. the people directing me either get annoyed or think I’m incompetent and trust me less.

4. Sometimes I don’t ask because I’m scared of being misjudged or misunderstood so I complete the task in a way I think is most efficient (and usually is most efficient, even compared to the directing person’s method), and I get scolded, or told/treated like I’m a know-it-all, or:

5. I just straight up do it wrong, or don’t do it at all, and still am seen as incompetent and end up being trusted less.

Sometimes I truly don’t understand a task, even if it’s obvious what the steps are. But if people take the time to explain to me what it is I’m supposed to have as an end result with the possible method to get there, in terms I understand, I’m a VERY quick learner, and often excel at the task at handā€”often to the point of innovating new processes for that specific task, deepening understanding of it for more than just myself, or expanding the project past its original scope.

6. When asking questions I also have to be SUPER careful how I ask, because often even my questions can be seen as “dumb” because I’m asking about the already obvious steps at times, or I’m perceived as rude or antagonistic/challenging authority due to my phrasing.

I’m not saying this isn’t a normal human experience that probably most people go through at some point in their lives. What I AM saying is that it happens to me at a higher frequency (like neurotic levels), and it can often affect me physiologically to the point of making me feel sick. I also think this part of me plays into my indecisive behavior as well, as I often am paralyzed with indecision and it produces the same physiological response.

THE GAME NEVER ENDS. IT’S EXHAUSTING. GAAAHHH

Do you relate?

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The featured image is of the Neurodivergence Pride Infinity symbol, in rainbow gradient, on top of a yellow background.

I’m terrified, but I needed to do it. If I didn’t tell her, then I’d have to tip-toe around communicating about certain responses, thought processes, and coping strategies, and that’s too much masking to do during a freaking therapy session that’s supposed to have all my energy dedicated to healing trauma. So, here’s what I wrote in the “need to know” box of the intake form:

I don’t take my self-identification as autistic lightly. I’ve done extensive reading and have also found a community that I feel wholly seen in. I was misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder in 2019 when I was half off my rocker coming off of Cymbalta incorrectly. It did, however, get me to the proper therapy for me at the time, which was DBT. DBT actually gave me tools and skills to build for effective communication and emotional regulation, especially for handling crises. Once the pandemic hit, I had the opportunity to actually slow down and realize why I had been in harsh burnout since early 2019–I have been autistic in crisis all my life. (I have been entirely dependent on my mother for money since then until just this past month, which in transition is a struggle on its own. This, along with physical disability, is also why I’ve never really been able to hold down a job consistently…I believe I am in the PDA profile of autism which hasn’t helped.) Now that I’ve embraced that knowledge, I have a much better time accommodating and advocating for my needs, building and sticking to boundaries, and living authentically while connecting to others, though I’m still learning. I embrace my stims, my “happy hands”, my narrative noises, my weirdness, and after processing a lot, I’ve learned to use masking more as a tool/superpower than let it define me. I have less meltdowns now that I understand why they happen, which has been life changing as well. I will, however, probably always struggle with gauging my volume and dealing with loud noises/severely overstimulating environments, among other things. I’ve been on this self-discovery path for two years now officially, and am so grateful to finally be learning to love myself the right way and to be making friends who will (hopefully) last.Ā 

Fingers crossed she takes me seriously and doesn’t condescend or discourage me from my own understanding of who I am.

If you’re in need of peer support for living a neurodivergent life, among other things, I’m your guy! You can schedule with meĀ hereĀ (read package information and scroll to the bottom to fill out a Calendly appointment time slot). Looking forward to supporting you!

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Image description: a bald human is cringing in pain and effort with their hands at their temples, presumably rubbing them. A forcefield radiates out in rings from their forehead. The caption reads: Me trying to remember what I heard or said just moments ago.

Cw: ADHD management and healthcare story/rant

So today was the 4th time within 3 weeks that Iā€™ve fucked up in bigger ways because of ADHD brain. Hereā€™s the storyline, and then Iā€™ll get into specific issues with healthcare:

It all started 3 weeks ago when, after basically fighting with my PCP, I had the opportunity to drug test for controlled substances so that I could start my ADHD treatment early (Iā€™m seeing an actual psychiatrist at the end of this month). Because I had the immediate opportunity to jumpstart treatment, I accidentally bypassed the appointment I had that day for my TMD treatment. I realized 5 minutes too late to make it, had to call in all embarrassed, and reschedule. All was fine, but itā€™s just really frustrating and ironic that I was getting screened for ADHD medication while missing an appointment because of my ADHD (in two ways). 

That rescheduled appointment was then scheduled for a time I forgot I was going to be out of town during, and had to again reschedule that last minute as well.  

Then later in the week, I almost missed my re-rescheduled appointment, EVEN THOUGH I KNEW IT WAS IN MY CALENDAR, because I was out from other obligations and thought in the moment that it would be convenient to go grocery shopping since I was near the store. Half way through filling my cart I realized I had to be at the other appointment, rushed to put everything back, and made it out to where I needed to be with no time to spare. FINALLY I made it to my appointment that Iā€™ve been waiting for, for almost a month. 

Cool, some fumbling around and embarrassment, but nothing major (which, Iā€™ve definitely missed major things in the past) because all turned out fine. 

Then today, after weeks of planning with my mom for me to watch her dog while sheā€™s away, I realized that I have a very important psych appointment Tuesday this week (for ADHD treatment). Iā€™m supposed to watch Bella (the dog) down near the Finger Lakes, which is an hour and half away from where I live. Mom and I arranged for me to stay there all week, which would have meant that Iā€™d need to leave Bella in her crate for several hours Tuesday. Thankfully Mom isnā€™t leaving until Tuesday morning anyway, so she can stay with Bella back home (not at the lake). Now I can stay home until my appointment and then take Bella after. But Mom went out of her way to make sure she borrowed a car to take the dog to the lake today, and she was counting on me to also water the flowers. Once again I leave people at a disadvantage because my brain canā€™t even keep its shit together for a day.

ā€œYou need a system, Jae.ā€

Yes Mom, thatā€™s why weā€™re even having this conversation right now, because I have a system and it caught my mistake TODAY instead of DAY OF. But I canā€™t be hypervigilant and take in my schedule for the whole month every day. I can barely make it happen for a week at a time. Thatā€™s so much anxiety. Thatā€™s so much juggling of too many things, even though it’s all written down, when my processing and capacity are already at a low. I often canā€™t get shit done if Iā€™m stuck in a mode other than ā€œone day at a timeā€. 

ā€œI need you to be here at 10AMā€, demands Mom. ā€œYou know I have an appointment to be at! Let me make sure I can do that,ā€ I answer. ā€œYou already told me what time itā€™s at!ā€ she barks back. ā€œYes! And I donā€™t remember!ā€ This is seriously how my brain is nearly 100% of the time. I canā€™t remember things that I just uttered 2 seconds ago much of the time. Itā€™s a stressful existence, to say the least.

Who the fuck cares, right? Iā€™m privileged that this hasnā€™t had a huge impact on my life, as a lot of this is ā€œfirst world problemsā€ kind of stuff. But shit adds up. My healthcare was almost jeopardized several times, and Iā€™ve caused people I love a lot of stress and undue inconvenience. This is why I need ADHD treatment, not just to aid me in getting my shit together for my own life (career and self-care wise), but to make sure I inconvenience others less with my mistakes. 

Mental health wise, I donā€™t think people realize how much ADHD can wreak havoc. There is more than memory dysfunction. Not only does it make my relationships difficult to maintain through fuck ups like this, but thereā€™s no relationship degradation either. So when I donā€™t see or talk to people for months, much of the time I feel like we should just pick up where we left off because to me, nothingā€™s changed. But to them, that time period of not interacting with each other means theyā€™re no longer important to me. Thankfully most of my people now are also neurodivergent (ND) and know what this is like, so we donā€™t hold each other to neurotypical (NT) standards, but it still sucks. Even then, the fear of that degradation happening is there. 

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) is also a thing for many ADHD folk. RSD makes it so perceived AND actual rejection takes a genuine attack on the psyche, where often it catastrophizes into ā€œeveryone hates meā€ and ā€œIā€™m only a fuck upā€ kind of thinking. Can you imagine having that on loop in your head almost every day? Itā€™s really hard to rise above that and feel like a competent human being who is worthy of love and other good things.Ā It’s intrusive, a compulsion:Ā you have to constantly redirect your focus, which takes a lot of energy–energy that you are not infinitely made up of, especially in the face of many daily adversities.

And then you have the very real impact of big fuck ups, like missing an important appointment. Not only can you be penalized by the entity that you were supposed to meet with, but the shame that comes with that kind of fuck up HURTS. It is actually physically painful a lot of the time (because of how Iā€™m wired). And it only reminds you of all the other times youā€™ve repeated the same behavior that you also physically canā€™t prevent. I can, and do, set multiple alarms, have multiple lists, have multiple calendar events (often set at least 15 min before the actual start of the event)ā€”all to keep me on track, and these mistakes JUST KEEP HAPPENING. 

I genuinely donā€™t think NT people or maybe OCD/high anxiety ND types can grasp this kind of lived experience, and itā€™s super frustrating to feel added judgment because of that. This is not a ā€œwoe is meā€ post. This is a call for awareness that a lot of us try so freaking hard and still fall short. This is to ask people to stop judging others because theyā€™re consistently inconsistent. As hard as I try to fit into the systems that be, I simply DO NOT FIT. So many of us ND folk live in this kind of existence, day in, day out. Itā€™s exhausting. It can be incredibly debilitating. 

ā€œJae is a wonderful student, they just need to work on consistency.ā€

– A college professor of mine.

Iā€™ve been working on being consistent my whole fucking life. Gods how I WISH I could just gain and keep those skills, after all this time ā€œworkingā€ on it. 

And to end, a rant on medical care:

I had to argue and prove my medical history to my PCP for him to take me seriously about ADHD treatment. First off, he doesnā€™t even believe adults can have ADHD. Like, what happens to children with ADHD who grow up? Their neurology just changes at the age of 18, like a flip of a switch? You canā€™t be ā€œcuredā€ out of it, itā€™s a friggin neurotype! Which, it doesnā€™t even need curing, it needs specific accommodations, just like any other neurotype. So not only did I have to feel invalidated and judged for needing medical treatment for something my doctor doesnā€™t even believe in, but he kept pushing medication (that I hadnā€™t remembered at the time that Iā€™d already tried which put me in the hospital). He kept pushing Strattera because itā€™s not a ā€œcontrolled substanceā€, when Adderall literally was the only thing that worked for me before, even though I was on too high/frequent a dose (and it also almost put me in the hospital). I am a firm believer that I can make my life better, more consistent, if I have control of my ADHD treatment. If I get to decide how much and when I need to take a stimulant, then I may be better suited to managing the days of capitalist, ableist society.   

I finally got to take a drug test, after confirming that having THC (weed, or better, cannibis) in my system would not fail me (though I only got verbal confirmation, and I wish I had gotten it in writing). And after all the to-do about not wanting to fail for having THC in my system, the test comes back negative for everything including THC. It was surprising and we ordered another test which I took the following week. Finally THC shows positive, but then my doctor goes out of town without sending my script in for Adderall. The ā€œfill-inā€ doctor tells me that he canā€™t do anything because he needs to defer to my PCPā€™s judgment about the THC, making me wait yet another week for treatment. So now, instead of going into my psych appointment with a few weeks of treatment under my belt, I wonā€™t even have a few days which defeats the whole purpose of going through this entire process with my PCP to begin with. This whole time Iā€™ve felt like Iā€™m being trapped into something that reflects poorly on me. I have a lot of medical trauma and misjudgments in my chart, and I feel like this whole experience is just adding to that. Either way, receiving proper treatment for ADHD as an adult apparently isnā€™t as easy as folk make it out to be, and itā€™s incredibly frustrating. Itā€™s probable that if I had been able to start treatment when I was supposed to have started, I wouldnā€™t even be writing this post right now about all the fuck ups of the last few weeks.  

Update: literally as Iā€™m writing this, I got a text from my pharmacy that my script is now filled. For the wrong mg. Well, at least I get a day to try it out I guess? Ugh.

Anyway, something-something our healthcare sucks, stigma sucks, ADHD sucks (often, but not always). And I’m Tiredā„¢. End rant.

What are the solutions though? How do we find ourselves better healthcare professionals who believe patients when they talk about their lived experience? How do we break down stigma and treat each other with dignity and respect? The best I’ve come up with so far is to speak out, and loudly, about our experiences. If you’d like to join in on the conversation, I’d love to hear about your experience too! And I encourage you to post and share in your own social groups of the same. We only have so much reach when we solely speak to each other, to people who already understand our similar plights. Much love to you! šŸ’œšŸŒˆ

Need to rant about this stuff too? I’m your guy! You can schedule with me here (read package information and scroll to the bottom to fill out a Calendly appointment time slot). Looking forward to supporting you!