peach baskets and busted brackets

I love college basketball. It’s definitely my #2 sport behind baseball, but I really enjoy tournament time. My bracket is hurting a little. I had a really good Thursday, but Friday brought chaos. I lost an Elite 8 team (St Marys) and the overall runner-up (Auburn). I’m hoping to do better today.

I have a difficult time watching the NBA right now. I used to enjoy it in the 80s through about the mid-2000s, but since then it just seems like they don’t try real hard until the 4th quarter. I don’t know if the game changed or if it’s just my preference.

I can see the college players are going all out for the entire game. Some of them have great athleticism and maturity, not letting the moment get too big for them. Part of that is coaching, but I heard someone say that the kids have to want to be coached. I’ve never played anything at that level, but it makes sense that a player with a big ego might not do very well in a situation where the coach is trying to teach the game.

I love watching because for 40 minutes there’s no politics, no crime, no culture wars, and no millionaires inside the lines; just a ball, a basket, and teammates working together for a common goal. Corny or naive, maybe, but still very enjoyable.

priorities and anxieties

It seems like I’ve been neglecting things here, but I’ve been too busy obsessing about things to write or think or breathe. I’m working on tasks to improve our retirement investments, and we are cleaning up our current finances a little. I’m procrastinating on a bunch of small tasks that will move us closer to likely selling our current house; those small tasks add up to a large effort, but I think it’s will ultimately help us. I’ve been scavenging used parts to build a new computer, but I decided to put that on hold due to time and cost. I have been extremely busy at work, putting in lots of overtime in the past two months to move along a few important projects (I’m sure the shareholders appreciate my hard work). So writing has taken a back seat lately, which I’m sure has disappointed my faithful readers’ need for fresh content.

Of course, mental health always occupies a lot of my time. I saw my psychiatrist last week to discuss the tardive dyskinesia and the medication I’ve been taking for it. I explained how is seems like the involuntary movements have mostly subsided due to the medication I’ve been taking, but I still have the semi-voluntary tics that have been present my whole life. Those tics and movements (see this old post) have been more obtrusive in the past few years, increasing during manic episodes, periods of high stress, or in relation to medication changes that didn’t work well. After our discussion, my doctor is not sure I still have the TD symptoms, but the Ingrezza will help act on the tics as well (although I’m not convinced on that). He wrote “chronic motor tic disorder” in my chart, and said that the first treatment for that is typically Abilify. Yes, my old nemesis Abilify, which has made me fatter and basically ruined my daughter’s life. I told him it was a hard negative on that, so at the moment we’re simply not addressing the tics. He also said cognitive behavioral therapy has been used to help with tic disorders, but he was as skeptical as me about the effectiveness of thinking your way out of a tic disorder.

Another thing consuming my brain cycles has been my relationship with my wife. Sometimes we seem to be thinking and working well together, and sometimes it feels like we don’t even like each other. I think we actively try to spend as little time together as possible because it’s so tense when we do. She has a lot of stress right now, and it is affecting things between us. She obsesses over money, she struggles with self-esteem issues, and she is worried about her job situation. Her anxiety level is very high sometimes, but to my knowledge she doesn’t really have an outlet for talking things out with someone, and she won’t consider taking medication to help. I can sympathize when she will let me, but I can’t fix her issues, and she hasn’t taken steps to address the problem. I’m not sure how this will turn out.

I’ll end with words of wisdom which I should trademark and sell to makers of motivational calendars:

Smart people make mistakes all the time. Stupid people make the same mistakes repeatedly.

perimeters and tangents

Long time readers of the old blog (all 3 of you) might remember my friend Lisa (The Girl Who Saved Christmas, and the first person I actually loved). We spent a lot of time together in high school and a couple of years after. Some people thought we were a couple, and I hoped our relationship would get there, but I never made it out of the friend zone. Regardless of that, she was a great friend who supported me emotionally, and I think she truly cared about me at the time.

However, maybe things aren’t the way I thought they were at the time.

Lisa posted on Fakebook recently that her father had passed. There were many comments and loving words, including from people who were my friends at the time. But it seemed like they had much more fond memories about their experience with her family, memories that I had no idea about. I was there at the time, but I don’t recall interacting with her dad enough to have great conversations or sing Christmas carols or have thoughtful conversations. I thought Lisa was my best friend at the time, and that was my friend circle, but where are my memories? I was there, but it seems like I was on the outside.

The same thing happened with my other not-quite-a-girlfriend Lena. I liked her a lot, and I think she cared about me too. We were really good friends, but we were never going to make it as a couple because of our clashing personalities. There was a time when our friend group decided that she wasn’t going to be included anymore, and I went along with it. But she returned to the friend group, and I never did.

It seems the world of Goldville didn’t revolve around me. Lisa made that clear multiple times, and our friend group never reached out to me to invite me back in. This was at the same time I was drifting socially, looking for new friends at college, and trying to build new relationships. It was at this time when my future wife contacted me and we started dating, which kept me from being lonely while my former friends did their thing without me. Then everything changed in 1991, and I put Goldville in the rear view, leaving everyone behind and burying the memories.

There is a pattern here. It seems like I have frequently been on the perimeter of a circle of friends, but not really part of the group. That has been repeated in different places and at different times, but the common thread is my inability to understand how to fit in socially. What is it about me that makes it so difficult to form healthy attachments with people? Why don’t I care enough to maintain relationships, or try to throw away the very few people who love me? Why do I choose to withdraw from everyone or disappear from other people’s lives?

Maybe this is all connected to feelings of being unlovable or unworthy of people’s attention. From the moment I started grade school, I felt like I didn’t deserve for people to like for who I am, and that when I was no longer useful I would be ignored. I have a pervasive fear of rejection and abandonment, and I am always watching out for signs that people don’t want me in their life. If someone has any criticism or problem with me, or if I imagine reasons why they would want to abandon me, I make up reasons to throw them away before they can hurt me. There is a whole list of people I have discarded even though I cared about them very much.

These feelings affect every relationship I have today. I’m pretty sure I have work friends who accept me but would quickly forget about me when I’m finished with them. I feel like I try to sabotage my relationship with my wife because I’m so focused on my own inner turbulence that I fail to understand her unresolved issues and how they might trigger my fears. I constantly try to read the context of my interactions with people, and usually come to the wrong conclusions. I fail to communicate honestly to people, and instead leave myself imaginary side doors so I can bail out on a relationship whenever I perceive the slightest hint of rejection.

It becomes so tiring. I often question if it’s worth the effort to have any social contact. Maybe I just go off on my own tangent and move to a cabin in the woods, as long as it has gas heating, a decent internet connection, and a cat.

lessons learned

My childhood experiences taught me lessons on the opposite ends of the self-esteem spectrum.

My A-mom would tell everyone I was the smartest kid in town, argue to school teachers and principals that I deserved special programs, or try to get me special privileges because I was her little genius. The problem was that I never felt like I deserved those things. I was embarrassed by her hovering and fawning, and I didn’t want her to try to get special favors for me.

She never taught me the confidence that I could handle things on my own, or gave me encouragement to take risks and learn to succeed. What I was taught is that I always needed a guardian angel, a tireless advocate for her vision of what she wanted me to be. She wanted to live vicariously through my accomplishments, but she never gave me a chance to accomplish anything on my own. I was her mama’s boy, her little man, her caged bird; she didn’t want me to fly but she might let me sing.

On one hand, I was the perfect child who could do no wrong; on the other I had Lila (the mean older woman my A-mom lived with) telling me I wasn’t worthy of anything special, and I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. She taught me that I didn’t deserve A-mom’s attention or blind praise. She told me that if I felt sad or tried to express my feelings, she would give me something to cry about. I was a goody-goody who didn’t deserve to be treated well, and I was goddamn lucky to have someone to put a roof over my head. I should be ashamed of myself.

Lila was bitter and cynical and damaged, but she taught me a few fears that have stayed with me. Be suspicious of people’s motives; people only want you there if you are useful; nobody really cares about your feelings; everything can be taken away in a moment; everyone is out to get you, and you have to get what you need on your own.

So my childhood experience left me with a crushing lack of self-esteem, fueled by the fears of loss, rejection, inadequacy, and humiliation. I was also left with a lot of anger, and I turned that anger into a desire to prove people wrong; I wanted to succeed to spite Lila, and I wanted to do it on my own to prove I didn’t need A-mom to pave the way for me. I didn’t feel loved, I felt more like a prized possession unworthy of love. I had the self-confidence that I was intelligent enough to succeed academically, but it was a shock when I realized I was socially inadequate, and that I was a joke to most people, reinforcing the lessons of mistrust and suspicion.

This all happened by the time I was 13, and it has shaped my entire life.

lost in space

I wrote something to post, but it’s a little too dark right now. Then again, I’m not feeling light-hearted. It feels fake to post something I’m not really feeling right now. I don’t have time or brainpower to tell a story right now.

What am I left with? Mostly, feelings of emptiness. Drifting through space in my own little bubble, slowly running out of oxygen, and just pretending to care. I wish I could float away from everyone around me and everything that needs to be done.

I’m not looking for advice. I’ll figure something out. I’m not depressed. I just feel unbelievably numb.

all the things I wanted to do

I’ve become very disconnected lately. I haven’t read emails or other blogs since almost Thanksgiving. I’ve written a few posts, but only because I forced myself. I have so many things I want to write about, but I’m not motivated.

I could be learning things during this time, but I’m not. I have a huge list of interesting topics to read or research, but I rarely do so. I have ignored all the movies and TV shows on my favorites list on Netflix.

I have an overwhelming number of small and large tasks I need to do at home, but I’m not interested in taking care of them. I’m disappointed in myself when I don’t have the mental energy to research new ways I can try to help my daughter have a better life.

So what do I do with all my time? Work occupies a large part of the day. Then I spend a lot of time recovering from being at work. I get mentally worn down by the stress of my work and the even greater stress of dealing with people. After being “on” all day, I need time to decompress.

In my spare time, instead of doing all the things I should, I find ways to avoid those things. Sometimes I’ll do geeky computer stuff like looking for old computers on Facebook or backing up my files or finding new applications I don’t need. I sit in my comfy chair with the cat on my lap, trying to switch off my brain and think as little as possible. Occasionally I will dream of being isolated in a cabin in the woods, maybe a pet crow to talk to, with a warm fire and lots of books.

All the creative things, the fulfilling things, the wondrous and fun and enjoyable things that make life seem meaningful … those things get put off for another day, until one day soon those things won’t matter anymore.

letters

Some people get to have letters after their names to signify their professions or licenses: P.E., P.S., DDS, Ph.D, MFCC, Esq.

I want to have letters after my name for all my disorders.

Rob Fisher ASD, ADHD, BD, TD, working towards my SAD.

between two poles

Darling, I don’t know why I go to extremes
Too high or too low, there ain’t no in-betweens.
– Billy Joel

I’m in a strange place at the moment. At first glance, my bipolar symptoms seem to be relatively stable. I’m not having depressive spirals, and I haven’t had any hypomanic or manic episodes.

Emotionally however, I’ve been all over the place. It’s too easy for daily events to push me one way or the other, between mildly erratic behavior and sudden sadness. I’ll put myself into a hopeless mood when I listen to a melancholy song or ponder the future of our society. But a small bit of humor or irony at work will raise my mood a little too much.

I’ve been especially vulnerable when I perceive rejection, disappointment, or anger directed towards me. It’s like I stop trusting the people I care about because of a sentence or two of conversation which might be critical. I seem to be looking for reasons to throw relationships away, discarding people and memories like I’ve done multiple times in the past. At my most dramatic, I wish I could run away and disappear from life.

Then again, some days I feel like I’m vibrating with energy. I’ll be overly energetic, working on tasks that aren’t really productive, and putting on the mask to be somewhat social if I feel like it. I’ll be oblivious to this until something triggers the realization that I am being fake-social, and then I’ll immediately withdraw, feeling embarrassed and sometimes angry with myself.

I don’t know if I’m characterizing this correctly, but it seems like I’ve always been able to separate the physical effects of brain chemistry from the lingering emotional damage from childhood abuse. It’s as if I can feel the physical changes coming and prepare for the ocean swell, but my emotional lability sometimes hits me like a sneaker wave crashing on me.

My other issues are still causing some discomfort. I still get episodes of anxiety where I’m terrified of social situations, and I cancel plans or modify my routine to avoid people. My ADHD symptoms seem to be slowly getting worse over time, but I was able to increase the dosage on that pill.

The tardive dyskinesia is also still present; the medication seems to give some relief, but I’m still noticeably shaky and twitchy. I told my psychiatrist more about the mental part of the twitchiness: how I often feel like I need to do these movements, that I get only fleeting satisfaction from doing them, and that when I don’t do it “the right way” I have to do it again. The doctor said he would do some psychological testing next time, so we’ll see where that leads.

Maybe my next post here will be written in crayon from the rubber room.

incomplete thoughts about plants

Some plants are tenacious. They not only persevere, but thrive despite adversity and hatred. They are the assholes of botany, and they will never go away. No matter how carefully you try to control or eliminate them, they keep finding ways to grow and spread their kind, whether relentlessly with rhizomes or opportunistically with seeds. Some people call them weeds, but they will win out eventually.

Some plants are fragile. They can suffer in various ways if conditions aren’t perfect. Whether hot or cold, wet or dry, sun or shade, it seems like you just can’t get them to grow successfully. These plants need constant support, encouragement, and the right feeding schedule, but too much attention can cause more harm than good. Such creatures are unable to be satisfied where they are, and are always searching in vain for the perfect niche environment.

Some people obsess over their plants. They smother their photosynthesizing family members like an overprotective parent, constantly trying to shape them or force them to fit their vision. They don’t seem to understand that most plants know how to grow, if not always in the way or place their gardeners expect.

Some people neglect their plants, yet expect that they will survive somehow. They liked or even loved their plants at first, but they expected to get more satisfaction from plant ownership, and maybe they wish they had a different plant that would grow into what they wanted. It takes a lot of effort to nourish plants and keep them growing for many years, and some people just aren’t good at making that effort. Maybe they are too busy trying survive themselves, or maybe they realize they should have learned to grow in their own way before trying to take care of a plant.

In the meantime, a plant doesn’t understand why it is neglected, but it knows it is suffering. It will do what it can to find moisture and nutrients, but leaving its container just isn’t possible sometimes. It is overlooked, taken for granted, and left to wither when other things become more important to its caretaker. Unable to become a different kind of plant, it can only hope its owner decides it is worth the effort to keep it alive.

remember me

It was a Christmas miracle: I tested negative for Covid on December 25th. It was nice to have a normal day with our two kids. I realize how fortunate we are that my wife and I had a relatively easy time dealing with the virus. Many people have had it much worse.

I was telling my daughter about my Die Hard advent calendar; since I haven’t been in the office since the 7th, Hans Gruber never completed his fateful fall from the Nakatomi Tower. She said it would be really sad for my coworkers if I had died from the virus and they found Hans pinned to day #7, knowing I would never return to have a laugh about it. I guess she’s right, although there would be much bigger concerns for my family if I didn’t make it.

I am also reminded that I need to start my next project: creating a “what to do if I die” file for my family. I’ll make paper and digital files with important account numbers, passwords, contact information, etc. I might include a list of GPS points where I want some ashes scattered, although I’ll make that optional.

I know I want to be cremated – it seems like the least harmful method of disposal – but I really don’t care what is done with my remains. Funerals and memorials are for the living, not the dead. Since I don’t believe in any afterlife it seems meaningless to me where my ashes go. I would like my surviving family to remember me in the way they feel is best.

Okay, enough of that. My fake birthday is tomorrow; I will attempt to accomplish something I need to do, plus have a little fun with the rest of the day.

ho-ho-hovid

I’m fighting the Covid infection to a draw so far. I had 3 to 4 days where I really felt horrible with cold/flu symptoms. I have been ingesting a constant supply of cold medicine to try to clear my head and to sleep. Sunday was the first time I had any energy to spare, and I spent it closed up in the home office trying to organize and recycle/throw away things. I have too much stuff I don’t need, and what I’m keeping is desperately unorganized. Stirring up dust is not good for my congestion though.

I thought I would be good to work from home today (Monday), and I did okay for about 4-5 hours, but then I ran out of energy and my brain started to get foggy. I am supposed to be in the office Tuesday through Thursday, so I took a test to rule that out for tomorrow. I must have lots of “viral load” or whatever still, because the two lines were immediately visible. I don’t think I will bother with another test until Wednesday afternoon to see if I can go to the office on Thursday. If I can’t, I probably will not see the office until January because I have vacation between Christmas and new year’s.

So for now, I’m still isolating in the home office to try to keep my daughter from catching the virus. I’m going through file boxes, important (and unimportant) papers, and collections of crap I can’t seem to get rid of. For example I have a lot of old and useless maps; some are old, some are useless, and some are both. Some of the old ones are pretty cool to a map geek though, so I’ll save those (like the detail of the Sacramento area which I think is from around 1960 based on the missing freeways).

old AAA map (click for detail)

I also have an abundance of CDs, DVDs, VHS tapes, books, electronics junk, and a few sets of baseball cards (which I thought would be worth a lot someday, but alas, no). I’m organizing files in my computer and making backups. I’m sorting my mp3 collection. I’m watching the Dirty Harry movies. I’m reading books. Yes, so many things to do which would never get done if I wasn’t infectious. See? There’s a silver lining here.

Okay, back to work. If I don’t post before Christmas, stay medicated my friends.

under the weather

I can’t brain much today, so this will be short. … My wife had Covid last week, and now I have it. We did all the right things last week – she isolated in the bedroom, we were both masked whenever she had to come out for something, we were both washing hands – but I still caught it. We both have had the latest booster, but it didn’t stop this variant. I feel miserable, but hopefully it won’t get worse than today. I thought I could work from home while sick, but I had to call off yesterday and today because I can’t think for more than a few minutes at a time. For now I’m watching movies or TV shows online when I feel like it, otherwise just resting and chugging shots of Nyquil. Wish me luck.

analyze that

Cross-post from my original blog, which I thought I was closing, then started again, and now I might combine them because I like this theme better. I’m not mad at all, how are you?

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As I mentioned previously, I parted ways with the therapist I have been seeing for about 18 months. I think she helped me a lot by asking me to look at life through a different perspective and to consider that I maybe didn’t have symptoms from several different disorders. She had me look at my issues as a series of responses to trauma and introduced me to the concept of being neurodivergent. What she didn’t do is help me feel like I was working toward a goal. We would talk about meaningful things most sessions, but I think there was several months of simply talking because I had a safe space to examine things.

I’m not necessarily sure what my goals for treatment are. I want to learn to change the deep-seated core beliefs that I’m damaged, unworthy, and unlovable. I need better strategies for managing the pervasive negative self-talk and feeling like I have to win approval from everyone I meet. I would like to improve things that I don’t like about myself, such as my low self-esteem and difficulties in social situations. However I’m not sure it’s possible to do all this, and maybe that’s not even what my goal should be.

A wise philosopher once said “I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam”, and maybe I need to shift my perception of who I really am. Rather than trying to change myself, I could accept that there are things I do well and things I struggle with. Instead of looking for ways to break through walls, I can look for strategies that make it easier to manage stress and avoid negative outcomes.

Another great thinker said “a man’s got to know his limitations.” I’m never going to be Mr. Sunshine, and it’s not in my nature to suddenly become gregarious and extraverted. I’m never going to throw my hands in the air like I don’t care, and I’m never going to be completely happy and blissfully ignorant. I understand I will never be able to completely fix my life or repair the damage from years of childhood abuse. But maybe I can learn to be okay with those limitations.

So for now, I have no desire to look for another therapist. Honestly, I think a little less self-analysis would be really good for me. Anyone who reads here knows I tend to overanalyze everything. I second-guess, I ruminate, and I indulge in endless loops of revisionist history and alternate endings. It’s quite exhausting sometimes, because I spend so much time thinking about the past that I forget to live in the present.

I’ve had several days recently where I suddenly had the time and solitude to brood on all the negatives, dig up old regrets, and write thousands of words about how shit my life is. But I chose to not do those things; I made a conscious decision to restrain my urge to pour out all my frustrations into the blog. It was rather freeing to realize that I don’t need to write out all my thoughts in the moment they occur. I can think those thoughts, process any emotion that might be attached to them, then move on with my day.

It’s not some huge epiphany I’ve made, and I won’t promise that I will be able to redirect my thoughts in the future. But for a few days at least, I have been free to do other things that are maybe a little more mentally healthy than wallowing in the swamp of despair. That’s good enough for the moment.

yippie-ki-yay, m* f*

It’s December, which means I feel like crap. Everyone around me is so fucking happy and cheery, and I’m not at all in the holiday spirit. I am easily overwhelmed by the lights and music and happiness surrounding me. Even at home, my wife loves this time of year, and I’m ambivalent at best. It’s a good thing we’re not religious, because that would add even more pressure to act or feel a certain way. I’m trying not to be a buzzkill to those around me, but I need to take frequent breaks from the merriment so I can recharge a little.

My efforts to embrace the season led me back to Die Hard, the best Christmas movie ever. It’s not Christmas until Hans Gruber falls from the Nakatomi Tower. In an act of cosmic synchronicity, the Fakebook algorithm showed me an ad for a Die Hard advent calendar. However I’m too cheap to pay $30 plus shipping, so I made my own and put it on my cubicle wall at work. When December 25th arrives, Hans will hit the pavement pretty hard.

“The benefits of a classical education.”

My wife loves Christmas, so her coworkers gave her an early present: Covid. There has been an epidemic at the Super Spreader hotel where she works, and her number was drawn today. She doesn’t feel real sick, maybe equivalent to moderate cold symptoms, which is good for her.

I wish she didn’t feel like she had to work in a physical job, but honestly she’s not really trained for other skills. She could do retail, but that would suck the life out of her pretty quick. If she loves Christmas now, working retail would teach her to hate it. She would love working at a yarn shop or some other crafty kind of place, but they’re not going to pay a lot at those types of stores.

My moods are in a strange place. My bipolar has been pretty stable for a couple of months, but I’m still depressed. In the past few years I have tried several different drugs for depression to add to my mood stabilizer (Lamictal). Unfortunately the side effects – weight gain, exhaustion, movement disorders, or anxiety – are too much for me to deal with. I don’t feel like I want to end it all, but I still feel pretty miserable.

My inner critic has been pretty hard on me lately, and the main themes seem to be that I am damaged beyond repair and unworthy of anyone’s affection, and the idea that I have nothing worthwhile to offer to friends, family, coworkers, or the world. Sometimes people around me make that feeling worse when I can’t possibly fulfill their expectations, and they don’t seem to value the things I can contribute.

Okay, this was supposed to be short, so that’s all for now.

throwing it all away

We’ve all heard the old saying: “Wherever you go, there you are.” Most people don’t give it much thought, but it’s been a theme in my life since I can remember. I have had a lot of challenges in the past; sometimes I was able to solve the problem, but other times I felt like everything was overwhelming and there was no way I could make things come out okay. When I get that feeling, I get the urge to discard things, to run away, and to change my life to avoid being hurt again. The escape can be physical or emotional; it can sometimes be immediate and hurried, or maybe a slower process over a period of time. But when you run away, it’s still your life, and all the things you try to leave behind are still following you when you turn around.

During grade school, instead of solving conflicts and problems with students and teachers, I managed to convince my A-mom to get me transferred to another elementary school in town. I decided to enroll in college out of state despite the financial and logistical problems because I wanted to leave my A-mom and my hometown behind, but ultimately I had to return, feeling defeated and depressed.

While in a relationship during college, I chose to run away by myself rather than stay and talk through a difficult time with my girlfriend, and she broke up with me. In another example, I was frustrated by the emotional barriers a girlfriend was creating, and I decided to throw away a meaningful relationship when a choice had to be made between two people, then the other girl I chose soon drifted out of my life.

While in my first job after college, I could have tried harder to resolve a conflict with a boss with a smothering personality, but instead I decided to leave a nice job that I enjoyed; this changed life for me and my family. Years later, when my uncontrolled bipolar was becoming more severe and I was having difficulty at a really good job, I convinced my family that leaving California and moving to a new life in Ohio was the right solution; the results were both positive and negative, but my mental problems remained.

I have had the desire to leave my family and run away by myself, usually when my mental health is at its worst. I have had deluded thoughts of simply disappearing someday by cashing out everything I can and taking a one-way trip somewhere. Sometimes I have a fantasy that I could become more involved with a friend and live in some faraway place. But in each of these scenarios, I know that I can’t leave my damaged psyche behind. Even if my friend were to run away with me to a cabin in the woods somewhere, I am pretty sure that my insecurities and personality flaws would surface soon, she would leave me behind to preserve her own sanity, and I would be completely alone and devastated.

The common threads in each of these examples include immaturity, emotional instability, delusional thinking, feeling overwhelmed, and looking for an escape route that didn’t involve work to improve the current situation. My mental illness deserves a lot of the blame, but I know I could have tried harder to handle things differently. I can’t count the number of times in life I have thought I could escape my problems and have a fresh start by changing things – different friends, different college, different job, different house, different state, different therapists or doctors. But throwing things and people away in the hopes of changing my life has only resulted in damaged relationships, hurt feelings, lost opportunities, financial difficulty, and lots of regret. You would think I have learned my lesson by now, but sometimes I’m not too sure.

what’s on my mind

It looks like my blog has been abandoned, but that’s not the case. I have been very busy and mentally exhausted most of the past three to four weeks, and I have not had time or energy to sit and write something coherent. I never seem to find the intersection between solitude, motivation, and creativity. That doesn’t mean I don’t have thoughts; oh yeah, I’ve got thoughts on many topics. I’m great at overthinking, obsessing, and hyper-fixating on things that don’t really matter while important things collect dust on my desk and in my brain.

Having said that, here are some things that have occupied my mind lately:

I’ve been obsessing about growing grass. After replacing our septic system in August, a large portion of our backyard was left a muddy and rocky wasteland. I rented a small tractor and an attachment to groom the soil, then planted seed and covered the seed with straw mulch. Currently there are little green seedlings reaching for the sky, and I think it will look pretty good before the cold weather sets in.

I visited the Air Force museum in Dayton. It was very impressive, but also thought provoking. I was looking at planes and talking to a few guides, but then I found the “missile room”. The missiles stand tall, witness to the possibility of destroying nations in a nuclear war, with millions of people dead as a result of collateral damage. This led to deep thoughts and the possibility of a short story. Hopefully I can expand on that in the future.

While in Dayton, I started feeling sick, and by the time I was home I felt pretty poor. The next morning I felt like I was hit by a bus. The sudden onset of typical symptoms made me think I had finally caught Covid. I contacted my doctor’s office and got a lab test, then just out of curiosity I took an at-home test; it was negative. The next morning, the lab contacted me and said I was negative for Covid, Flu A, and Flu B. Regardless, I had to work from home for the entire week because I felt like I was contagious with whatever I had. When I finally went to the office a week later. it turned out that several people had missed time due to Covid. Based on that, I’m assuming I am no longer Covid-free in ‘23.

Another issue was the anxiety and twitchiness I had previous to the Dayton trip. I saw my psychiatrist, and he thinks I have Tardive Dyskinesia. After getting samples from the doctor, I had to jump through several hoops with my insurance, the manufacturer, and a rare-medicine mail-order pharmacy. It’s an expensive drug, but the manufacturer has a copay discount program. After taking the drug for about three weeks, I’m still a little twitchy and I’m still having movement problems. I’m unsure about the TD diagnosis, but I’ll ask the doctor about it. I’m wondering if it is autistic stimming that has become more bothersome as I become less able to mask and control it. I think my biggest source of anxiety is not from mood swings, but from the struggle to hide my issues from everyone.

I’m switching cubicles at work for several reasons – distractions and loud conversations near my current cube, and a desire to just be quieter and less social in the office. I’m really tired of switching on and off depending on who is at my desk trying to talk to me. I’m at the limit of my ability to concentrate on my job because of ADHD and depression and moving all the time. I am moving to a quiet corner with tall walls, and I am hoping it will make a big difference. All I want to do is go to the office, concentrate on improving the quality of my work, avoid conversation as much as possible, then go home and relax.

The company had a remote seminar about hidden disabilities, and I listened in to see if I could learn anything. I struggle with this because I feel like I have multiple issues, and I need accommodations, but I’m not disabled enough to be disabled. I’m wondering about what would happen if I was diagnosed with autism and I disclosed that at work. They talked about using the anonymous employing assistance program to determine what accommodations the company might be able to provide. The risk for me is that the company would argue that I’m a safety hazard in my job description. That makes no sense for an office employee, but it’s the reality I face.

I’m also thinking about the realization I am neurodivergent (as is my daughter and maybe my son (more about that in a future post). My therapist (who I have not seen for two months since she is on maternity leave) says I need to accept who I am and learn to work with it. The problem is that I still want to hide it from everyone, including myself. Is that unhealthy, or maybe is it internally directed ableism? When I reach my limitations, I feel angry, guilty, and ashamed when I can’t manage everything. As long as I feel that way, I’m never going to be able to deal with my issues in a constructive way.

I also have physical aches and pains as I get older. I have to face the fact that there are some things I will never be able to do, and that is frustrating. I feel like I’m getting less healthy every day, and I’m not doing anything about it. I care, but I don’t seem to care enough. Will I get old and feeble, will I have a debilitating illness, or will I make an exit how and when I choose?

There are always financial concerns, and I think a lot about getting things set up for my family for when I am no longer alive. I feel like I won’t make it towards retirement unless I make changes, and maybe not even then. My son is basically independent now, but he needs investment advice so he is prepared for his future.

Finally, I had a dream about some high school friends. We might not be friends today, but if we were it would be uncomfortable for me. I am such a different person than I was in high school – I’m more bitter and weary, more neurotic, more aware of my problems and my mental health, and more aware of autism and everything that brings with it. I don’t know if my old friends would recognize me or want to be around me. My friend Lena, who was always kind and forgiving, would probably be the exception – she would have lost the immature behaviors and kept the grace and beauty she always had.

Well then. That’s a lot of words, but I have a lot on my mind. I’ve got work and office distractions, the music always present in my head, the movement disorder, dealing with autism, worrying about my daughter’s problems, paying attention to the baseball playoffs, going to concerts and museums, trying to make sure my new grass gets watered, and obsessive thinking about everything going on.

Hopefully things calm down a little and I’ll get more chances to write something, even if I don’t post it.

still twitching, still struggling

I’ve been struggling with the anxiety and twitchy symptoms and the jumbled thinking for about three weeks now, and I thought it was simply a reaction from trying a new antidepressant drug. Yes, I’m aware that antidepressants sometimes don’t mix well with bipolar disorder, and this was one of those times. In addition, I had stopped taking an antipsychotic drug at the same time I started the antidepressant.

I finally made it to my psychiatrist appointment yesterday. My doctor believes that I have tardive dyskinesia which was caused by withdrawal from the antipsychotic and made worse by starting the new antidepressant. He doesn’t really think it’s a manic episode; I’m not sure, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. Whatever has happened, it appears my brain is more susceptible to TD than in the past. Looking back, I know I have had these symptoms in the past but not as bad. We now know that I can never take an antipsychotic again, and antidepressants are probably off the table as well.

He gave me a new drug to treat the TD, which continues to be disruptive. The severity matches the amount of stress I am feeling, which tells me there is an anxiety component to this. It’s possible that the anxiety is in part caused by my uncertainty of being able to work due to the TD, which creates a worsening feedback loop.

I will take this new drug for two to three weeks in the hope that it will prevent the TD symptoms or at least reduce them as much as possible. In the meantime I am still having trouble concentrating enough to read or write or work or even watch a baseball game. It was difficult to make it through work today without needing to hide in the bathroom or an empty conference room. Fortunately I work from home tomorrow and Monday. I hope the TD medicine has some effect before I need to face the world again.

Sorry if this post is disjointed or rambling, but I’m not well right now.

we’re all okay, man

The anxiety and nervous tics returned today, as my discontinued pills said “hey dumbass, we’re not done with you yet!” I really hope these withdrawal effects end soon, because it’s really fucking with my brain. I can’t concentrate on work, I can’t stop thinking about my brain, and only sleeping gives me a break.

Today, as I’m struggling to draw simple linework in AutoCAD, my supervisor decided to check in on me over the IM. I told him I’m not 100% but I’m better than Tuesday (which is true, I just left out the part about being barely capable of performing my job today). He said he hoped I would be feeling 100% soon.

Here’s the thing, boss man. When you think I’m at my best, I’m not 100%. When I say I’m okay, I’m not okay. I’m never okay, and I will never be okay enough to fit your definition of “okay”. The closest thing to “okay” are the days when I am able to successfully mask everything going on with me.

There’s something wrong every day, whether it’s caused by autism, bipolar, ADHD, anxiety, depression, or some physical problem. I’m never going to be 100%, and I have come to accept that. No amount of medicine or therapy is going to change things, and I seem to be getting worse over time. My goal for now is being able to hide my problems from everyone, and function well enough to do my job without getting fired. Those goals may change in the near future if I am unable to function at that level.

a proper introduction

This the first day I’ve felt more normal in about a week, and I’m celebrating by not drinking myself stupid before bed. This also means I can write a coherent intro to this site.

Despite the first two posts, I don’t intend for this to be a daily log of my awesome life (spoiler, it’s not really awesome). Instead I want to write about what’s important to me currently, and tell stories from my past. I don’t think this will interest most people, but that’s okay. I’m writing for myself, and possibly a few close friends and family members.

My next task is to complete the “about me” page. For now, you should know that I’m autistic, I have ADHD, and I have bipolar disorder. I also have a lot of anxiety and frustration from stressors in my life, things which probably affect me more than the average person. I’ll write much more about those topics in future posts.

So for now, thanks for visiting. If something interests you, feel free to comment.

side effects

I’ve been anxious and twitchy for a week so far. I can’t stop the nervous tics. I can’t relax long enough to think properly or speak in complete sentences. My eyes are red from the irritation caused by constantly blinking.

I have bipolar disorder, and I had started taking a different antidepressant to go along with my mood stabilizer. Unfortunately, the new med isn’t going to work out due to the side effects. I stopped the new drug on Friday, but I’m still having withdrawal symptoms.

It is extremely difficult to sit still and do my work while in this condition. My supervisor, who has been very understanding, is letting me work from home the rest of the week. This helps because I won’t have to worry about interacting with anyone in person right now. I don’t need to be back to the office until next week. I’m hoping I will be in better shape by then.

In the meantime, I’m drinking before bedtime in an attempt to calm down and sleep. Don’t worry, I’m still in control, but don’t tell my psychiatrist that I’m self-medicating.