So I've seen so many people self-diagnosing as having ADHD. Which, hey, I think it's valid to a point. By that, I mean I've talked to way too many people who think they understand ADHD...but they don't. They think (and this is not an exaggeration) that salad always going bad at the back of the fridge is ADHD. They forgetting your keys a lot is ADHD. That fucking FIDGETING is ADHD. It's not. It's not even close.
So, what is ADHD like?
It's like a toxic friendship. One second, you love it. After all, you're the life of the party (because talking to someone with a bizarre way of looking at things is pretty entertaining)! You're known for your zany antics or loveable quirks... Until you're not.
Then you're irresponsible. You're a child. You're lazy or you don't care, You're too much and not enough. You're fucking Pippin from LOTR.
See...I met this guy on Tinder. Wonderful guy: the type I've been hoping to meet. He's funny and sweet. He laughs at my jokes... We clicked, and I felt I could be myself with him. I felt SAFE to be myself with him. And the more we talked, the more I loosened my mental leash.
Big. fucking. mistake.
See, ADHD is...a lot. And this is why I said I think self-diagnosis for ADHD is valid to a point. Because everyone has experienced symptoms of ADHD. It becomes ADHD when it goes too far: when you struggle in school, at home, in relationships. When it bleeds over into every part of your life like wet ink, it smears onto everything you touch.
Simply put, if you haven't broken down in ugly, heart-wrenching sobs because of your ADHD, is it really ADHD?
And I know I sound heartless. Yet, at the same time, I'm old enough to have lived through the "ADHD is so fun and quirky! Look at me with my adorable ADHD vibes!" era. I've seen this disorder treated with everything except respect. After all, when you have ADHD, you're the comedic relief. You're the sidekick. You're the joke.
Because let's face it: ADHD without the laugh track is just too damn depressing. It ruins lives. It makes me hate myself. It makes me feel like a failure.
And not because of the inattention or the brain fog or inability to do basic fucking tasks. It's the way I'm constantly trying to stay afloat. I'll have it managed and then SURPRISE! I forgot to watch out for that trait--the one that hasn't been an issue for long enough to think I'm safe--and I'm back underwater.
...
Look...
I am me. And part of being me is having ADHD. I can't take away one without the other. And for the most part, I've learned to love myself...
But right now? When I feel like ADHD ruined my change with a guy I really liked? I want to punch that fucking bitch in the face.
So I haven’t written an entry in months. And the first topic? My weight... I feel like that says something about society.
Seriously, though: I need to talk about this. Since returning to IU, I have...gained some weight, and am now what medical professionals would call “morbidly obese”. Not overly thrilled about it, but there it is.
Now here’s the rub. I don’t want to be obese.
“Wow, no kidding!” I can hear you say. Well, shush.
You see, obesity runs in my family. Both grandmas, my aunt, my uncle, etc, etc all struggle with their weight--and have done for decades.
I look at them, then I look at me...and I see that a more serious approach is probably needed. Not to mention I’m on medications that are sometimes prescribed to help people gain weight (looking at you gabapentin).
So what’s a girl to do?
Surgery.
Possibly...
...I hope so...
Basically, my goal is to see someone who specializes in obesity. Because the word “struggling” doesn’t adequately describe what I’m feeling.
Ollie and I moved in on August 15 and classes started on August 23. So far, things are going well. It’s hot as hell, though! Plus, it’s humid.
I got a bike which has been...interesting. There are pros and cons to using a bike at IU when it feels like a flaming inferno outside.
Pros:
It’s much faster than walking. Which means I’m able to get to classes on time.
It’s a good workout. Like...damn is it a good workout. I honestly want to die after I get to wherever I’m going. I’m also getting stronger each day, so riding to classes is getting easier.
Cons:
You get really sweaty. Now this isn’t a big deal...because it means I’m obviously getting a good workout. That being said, I get dehydrated very quickly. I also have to worry about overheating. (Honestly, it’s just the heat. It makes everything worse.)
Going uphill is awful and I want to die. My legs have almost given out. I’m that out of shape. I’ve found a shameless workaround, though, which is to simply walk the bike uphill.
Twelve days to go. And oh boy, am I nervous! I keep having mini panic moments. (I don’t want to call them panic attacks, because I don’t think they are. They do make me want to cry/puke, though.)
I think I’m feeling this way because I don’t feel ready. There’s still so much to do:
Clean out my dressers and bring them downstairs
Go through my clothes and decide what to bring
Go through my room and decide what decor to bring
Pick up new table and give old one to Goodwill
Get lamps
Get TV stand
Go through photo albums and decide what pictures to bring
Okay, writing it out helped. It’s not as much as I thought it was...still...I’m anxious.
Also, I know I’m going to be homesick. After all, it’s been six years. I didn’t realize it, but I’m going to miss Zeno so much. Yes, we’ve grown apart after getting Ollie (for which I feel immensely guilty), but he’s still my boyo. I love him so much and I don’t want to leave him behind. That being said, I know he’ll be fine. I also know it’s better that he stay here.
It doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to feel heartbroken and guilty for a while.
The thing that’s causing the most anxiety, though, is the fact that there are so many unknowns. What will my apartment look like? (There weren’t many pictures.) What about the surrounding area? Where will I get food? (I have an idea, but are there any places closer?) Will Ollie like IU? How are we going to get the couch into my apartment?!
Also, is the apartment complex haunted? Indiana University is notoriously haunted. And the building was built in the 1960′s, so the chances of spectral residents is high. If it were just me, I wouldn’t care too much. But that’s just it. Ollie’s going to be there. Will he be alright if there’s a ghost? What if there’s something bad there?
I’m planning on bringing some religious stuff from home. You know: a few crosses, the standard Mary statues, some obligatory saints medals that were dipped in holy water from the Vatican...
Goal for today:
Go through my clothes and decide what to bring
Go through my room and decide what decor to bring (and put them in the pile downstairs)
I just found out there’s an Anthropologie Home Outlet Store
Before you get excited...it’s in Pittsburgh. Why? Because God wants to punish me and my midwestern-dwelling ways...obviously.
Now, do I want to drive myself all the way to whatever state Pittsburg is in? (It’s Pennsylvania.) Yes.
Do I want to get in my old Honda CRV and drive like the wind? Or like the wind, but wind that’s determined to get to Pittsburg and back in a day? Also yes...
Because this is Anthropologie we’re talking about. The chance to get their furniture--hell, even a coaster--at a lower price? COUNT. ME. IN.
And, by the way, I’m talking major discounts. Potentially 70% off discounts.
I want that sweet, sweet boho/eclectic style.
Unfortunately, I have neither the time...nor money...nor car space to make that trip happen. So for now, I’ll have to stick to thrift shops. But one day, I will visit you, Anthropologie Home Outlet. I will find you. And I will buy things from you...
So, I was playing with Ollie. We were using Thanos. It’s a purple sock filled with stuffing and a dead squeaker from a $7 toy he killed a while ago. It’s called Thanos because...well...it reminds me of what I would imagine Thanos’ dick would look like. Flaccid, at least...
Anyway, we were playing and I was trying yet again to get Ollie to release his toy. I tried ‘drop it’. Nothing. ‘Release’. Nothing. ‘Let go’. Nothing. Then finally, ‘out’...
And he IMMEDIATELY released the toy.
Just...what? Excuse me? Are you telling me Ollie’s known how to release his toys the whole time?
Part of me feels guilty. We played fetch-and-tug for a solid half hour and he LOVED it. My poor boy was giving me clues the whole time, too.
For the most part, though, I am so happy and proud of my smart boy. We will definitely be playing fetch-and-tug at least once a day.
Fuck. YES. All the times June tried to escape and failed, all the times you just wanted her to get revenge. Finally, we got some satisfaction.
Fred showed his true colors in the end. True to his manipulating ways, he tried to weasel his way out of the situation. He just kept trying to find the right method to save himself, but nothing worked and I LOVED watching him panic.
Poetic justice. “Please, I have a son. A son!” Bitch, did you forget who you’re talking to? All those women had their children ripped away because of you. He was literally on the receiving end of his own creation.
It’s especially satisfying as a woman, because let’s be honest: there is hardly ever any justice for victims of sexual assault.
As for Serena... I know I’m horrible for wanting this, but God, I hope she gets sent back to Gilead. I want her to be a handmaid. I want her child to be taken from her. At the very least, I want her to end up in prison in Canada with her child taken from her.
After SIX years, I will hopefully be returning to Indiana University Bloomington. And this time, I’ll have Ollie with me.
It’s only been a few hours and I’m already desperate to know if I’ve been allowed back. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next few weeks...
Oh, and did I mention that I got straight A’s this past semester? Indeed, I did! For the first time, I truly feel like I’ve turned my life around. Depression didn’t win. I won.
Things have been moving fast. I registered for classes (14 hours), got Ollie approved to be my ESA, and have an unfurnished apartment lined up (with a child-proof balcony all to myself).
I must admit, though, that I am feeling a bit nervous. Firstly, it’s a two-bedroom apartment mainly used by families and grad students. Will I fit in? Or will seeing other people around my age with spouses and children make me feel worse?
Hopefully, I’ll be able to simply mind my own business and enjoy life. I’m planning on joining at least a few clubs. That’s how you make friends as an adult, right?
Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that I’m only 25. It feels old to me, but in reality it’s not. Take a deep breath girl, you got this.
Possibly moving out for good.
I feel a bit conflicted about the future. You see, the current plan is shaping up to entail me moving all my furniture to IU, thus officially leaving the nest.
While a part of me is excited at the prospect... I’m scared. Not of failure. I think I’m afraid of feeling alone. At the end of the day, though, I know I’ll get used to things and be okay. *takes deep breaths and makes ‘you’ll be okay’ my new mantra*
A suprising (but not unpredictable) reason I’m feeling conflicted is because I’d miss mom and dad. Yeah, I know, fitting the stereotypical ‘adult living with parents’ mold. But hear me out...
I’ve been living at home for SIX years. Granted, I’ve spent the vast majority of that time in my room...with my door locked... When I do exit my room, I enjoy interacting with my beloved madre and padre.
I’ll miss being able to just walk downstairs. I’ll miss...I don’t know...people? I’ll miss the ease of not having to try so hard to maintain social bonds--of feeling secure in the relationship so I can just relax and be myself.
God, just thinking about making new friends sound exhausting... Still, that’s what clubs are for, right? Hopefully, I’ll find the right people and it won’t feel like work to form a friendship. Plus, I just remembered I am an introvert...I don’t need a lot of friends. Just one or two close ones--the ones that feel like family.
Yes, I’m aware that I’ll be around a LOT more people at IU. But let me ask you this: have you ever felt more alone in a group of people than when you’re by yourself? Seeing other people with their social groups makes me feel lesser or wrong.
I think I need to stop comparing myself to others. I need to just enjoy the journey. Because at this point, I only have a vague idea of where it’s going. And that...is terrifying.
Instead, I should focus on what will bring me joy.
What will bring me joy:
Classes - they sound super interesting and I can’t wait to start learning!
My own apartment - the privacy and freedom will feel amazing. I’ll feel like an adult again. AND I can decorate it however I want. Christmas lights? BOOM! (and it has a screened-in balcony...for which I have ideas).
Exercise - I mean...I’m bound to lose weight, right? I’ll be walking a butt-load a day.
Being proud of myself - finally mom and dad won’t have to worry about me. They can brag about me again. (Hey, I’m vain, I want my parents to not feel uncomfortable when people ask how I’m doing.)
New people - you know what, at the end of the day I’m bound to meet people I enjoy being around. This time, I’m joining clubs. (A Harry Potter group being among my current prospects.) Also, the whole point of clubs on college campuses are to help students meet new friends.
It’ll all be okay, Elizabeth. For all the complaining, I am excited to have my own place and take classes at IU. Being nervous is natural. Having anxiety is natural.
After SIX years, I will hopefully be returning to Indiana University Bloomington. And this time, I’ll have Ollie with me.
It’s only been a few hours and I’m already desperate to know if I’ve been allowed back. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next few weeks...
Oh, and did I mention that I got straight A’s this past semester? Indeed, I did! For the first time, I truly feel like I’ve turned my life around. Depression didn’t win. I won.
Here’s the thing...if your dog has behavioral issues, they aren’t going to magically change into a well-behaved dog on their own. You need to put in the work.
Unfortunately, some owners want their dog to change, but don’t want to do any work to make it happen. (They also don’t want to pay any money for someone else to train/exercise their dog.) That’s where I come in...again...
Meet Bailey, he’s a one-and-a-half-year-old, 150lb, Great Dane. Yup...
Zero training - as a result, he completely ignores people and does his own thing. There is no respect for humans. And it shows. (Again, he’s actually a very sweet boy that’s more than willing to work for his treats.)
Unsocialized - I’m told he’s aggressive toward other dogs and actually went after the neighbor’s dog.
Physically hurting people via jumping and mouthing - Let me put it this way, I’m littered in bruises right now. It honestly looks like I got beaten up. That being said, I don’t blame Bailey. He doesn’t know his own strength. When he knows he’s hurting me, he stops right away.
He’s BORED. Out of his mind bored. A pattern I’ve observed in a lot of people is that they ignore the importance of mental stimulation. I have a herding mix...I don’t get to NOT mentally stimulate my dog.
What I Wish I Could Say to His Owners
But then they wouldn’t let me train him because they’d be offended
● If you want to get a dog, TRAIN and SOCIALIZE them. It is your job as a responsible owner to do this. They don’t have to be a perfect model of obedience, but leaving a dog untrained is not only irresponsible, it’s dangerous.
● There are many different routes you can take when training a dog. If one method doesn’t work, you can find another that does (Youtube videos, obedience classes, hiring someone, sending the dog away to be trained, etc.).
● If you’re not willing to put in the work for your dog, then do NOT get a dog. Or at the very least, DO NOT GET A PUPPY. There are thousands of dogs in shelters that get basic training while waiting to find their forever home. Adopt one of them. That way, they already have a solid foundation to build upon.
● “Low-energy dog breed” does not mean “fifteen minutes of fetch in the yard twice a day.” That is a direct quote from the husband regarding what they think is an appropriate amount of exercise. Firstly, it’s a small yard for his size. Secondly, Bailey needs more than just a game of fetch. He needs variety. He needs to be walked.
● Not taking him on walks due to bad behavior will only make it worse. He’s not getting walked because he “goes crazy whenever he sees the leash.” Well, gee, that’s probably because they aren’t walking him. Of course he’s going to get excited. Walks are the only time he gets to leave the yard and explore the outside world.
● Physical stimulation does not equal mental stimulation. You can do them both at the same time, but a walk doesn’t necessarily mean he’s mentally stimulated. Bailey chews on the wood in their 90-year-old house because HE’S BORED. He steals things and runs away because he’s bored and wants you to chase him. Because HE WANTS TO PLAY.
● He’s not the husband’s dog, he’s the family’s dog. The husband does everything (because he won’t let anyone else do it). He feeds, praises, gets toys for, and walks (when Bailey gets to be walked) Bailey. As a result, Bailey only listens to and respects the husband. For obvious reasons, that needs to change.
● Being “not really into obedience training” is utterly irresponsible and unfair to the dog. I just...I want to smack the husband. I don’t understand how someone can be so smart, yet so, so stupid. (They’re both surgeons, and Bailey is not their first dog.) Bailey is literally limited by his lack of training. He’s not going on walks or getting to go to the park due to his behavior which could have been avoided if they’d raised him right.
● LEARN ABOUT CANINE BEHAVIOR. My goodness, am I just the only one that sees the benefits of learning about canine behavior when you have a dog?
● Tricks are not impressive if your dog can’t behave. The only command Bailey knows is ‘give paw’. That’s it. Without basic obedience, though, the command is utterly useless.
● The boring commands are important. Yes, ‘roll over’ is much more fun to show off than a simple ‘sit’. But you know what, family-who-shall-not-be-named? A ‘sit’ or a ‘stay’ may just save your dog’s life one day.
Seriously, I started training Bailey while the kids were watching a movie and when I told the parents after they got home, they asked if I’d taught him “to roll over.” No, I taught your dog ‘leave it’ because he’s going to eat the wrong thing one day if you’re not careful.
● Paying for training is part of “having a dog” expenses. Again, you can train the dog yourself or get an older dog (a non-puppy). You can even have the breeder train your puppy before getting it (for a price). Making sure your dog isn’t a danger to itself or others is PART OF BEING A RESPONSIBLE OWNER.
And say it with me, “A grossly irresponsible owner = a bad owner.” I’m sorry, but it’s true.
● Training is important for more reasons than one. It’s a bonding experience. You’re literally BONDING with your dog--you’re building trust and respect. If I’m the only one training your dog, all that’s going to happen is he’ll bond/build trust with me. He’ll listen to me over you. (That’s exactly what Nova does. He also looks to me for safety if I’m there when the family has other guests over. And yeah, it’s flattering...but I want the people he trusts most in the world to be his family, not me.) That’s why you need to be part of training.
Note: I’m going to be honest, I always feel a bit weird when an owner isn’t interested in being a part of training their dog. Like...if someone is training Ollie for me, I’m asking for updates and videos--even if all they’re teaching him is to sniff butts. I want in. I’m probably getting a bit possessive, too. *snatches Ollie away and gives him all the loves*
How’s Bailey Doing Now?
I refuse to end this on a downer note, so here’s some good-ish news.
Great, actually! I’m not a professional trainer (so I probably confuse him a lot), but he’s definitely learning.
He’s currently learning/has learned...
Place - he goes and lays down on his dog bed
Stay - he stays where he is until released
Look - he makes eye contact with the person (meant to get his attention so a command can be given)
Leave it - for obvious reasons, this is important
Up - I actually say ‘up-up’. It’s to get him to jump up on the coach or go upstairs. That way I can teach him to get off the couch.
Off - I actually say ‘floor’ because he has negative associations with the words ‘off’ and ‘down’. This is for getting him off of furniture or people when jumping up.
I’m thinking of making little “Diary of a Dog” videos about Ollie. One of my greater regrets concerning Buster (”Gaboo”) is that I didn’t take many videos of him.
To be honest, they are rather fun to make. They also fit my general vibe when it comes to creating content. Somewhat serious, yet silly at the same time.
Finally, I’ve found a medication that truly helps my depression. The crazy thing is...I’m rediscovering parts of my personality that I’d forgotten existed.
So, what have I learned now that I’m able to think clearly for the first time in years?
The longer you have depression, the harder it is to tell the difference between you and your mental illness. I genuinely believed I was just lazy and unmotivated. I used to think, “This medication helps other people... Maybe it’s me? Maybe I just have a poor work ethic.
Mental illness does affect how you function. Again, I got to the point where I thought I was the problem--that I was simply not trying enough. After being on my current medication for a while, though, I can see empirical evidence that refutes this misconception.
I’m able to do well in school. I’m getting A’s in my classes--completing assignments early. I’d forgotten how much pride I take in good grades.
My loved ones see a difference. According to my family, I’m “not as angry.” They’ve also reported that I’m more relaxed and smiling again.
My dog is happier. Ollie is very sensitive, regularly mirroring my emotional state. For example, I had a migraine today and he refused to leave my side.
I’m hopeful again. It’s like the wall that blocked me from seeing my goals is crumbling. I’m working toward my dreams again, able to see that they’ve been patiently waiting for my return to the path.
The end lesson?
Never give up on finding the help you need. It took me five years, but I’ve learned so much about life in that time. There’s a solution out there for you. Sometimes, it’s just waiting for you to be ready.
My neighbors are having a bonfire gathering. During a pandemic. No social distancing...no masks... We are doomed. What’s worse is that they are interrupting my pleasant reading hour!
I now understand why Jason Voorhees kills trespassers. Because as a proud introvert, each unnecessarily loud noise emitted from their face-holes fills me with angst. Go away, random people. Can’t you see I was trying to enjoy a quiet evening? *Shuts window whilst sending a withering scowl which no one will see*
Note: I know Jason feels the same way. People? No. Begone! *Stabs and slashes* Sometimes, he probably kills campers out of annoyance.
Also, Ollie continues to fart. The gathering has obviously upset him and now he must release a putrid stench in retaliation. Unfortunately, his butt is a foot from my face.
Ollie continues to be creepy. He has since learned that licking my face with persistence will arouse me from even the deepest of slumbers. I’m tempted to buy a face shield, but think it would be too bulky for sleeping.
We keep getting the timing wrong. Bug spray aside (it was an easy fix, nothing worth noting), the timing of our journey continues to allude me. One day, we arrived at 7am. Staying for an hour, we were accosted by a woman demanding Ollie be leashed. The wretched banshee. Next, I over corrected and we came at 5am. We were met with utter darkness. Not even my flashlight could penetrate its terror.
We ended up returning to the safety of my old, yet beloved, Honda CRV and waited an entire hour with nothing but the sounds of Ollie’s panting to pass the time.
Dog + raccoon = rabies shots for me. Ollie is a dumpster fire. A living shitshow when it comes to off-leash hikes. At least, he is during the summer and fall. Possessed by ancient primal instincts, he has decided to hunt. And I do mean hunt. To put it simply, he now wears a bell whenever off leash. Oh, and I’m technically immune to rabies...
In other news…
Confirmed green thumb. My rubber tree cuttings have sprouted roots and one lucky specimen (since named Milton) is proudly potted and perched on my windowsill. Fred, the christmas cactus, is doing well--as is a new addition, Georgina, an American rubber plant.
Failed nature-thief. Apparently, grass seeds harvested from nature do not thrive in captivity...not for me, at least. I spent an entire fifteen minutes collecting what I imagined would produce a bountiful array of indoor grass. All for naught. Still, my american rubber plant clipping did far better than expected. Georgina is quite possibly my priced specimen.
Firstly, f*ck you, Adderall. Coming around here, causing my depression and sh*t--for six years. Now I’m stuck in bed, writhing in the non-fun way. Why? WITHDRAWAL.
Again: with-f*cking-drawal.
What kind of sick bastard are you, Adderall? Punishing me cause I dared to want a life without you. You don’t own me! You never did!
Ollie is a creepy dog. Today, I woke up (at dawn) to humid, distinctly canine breaths flooding across my face. I kid you not, Ollie was just sitting with his face mere inches from my own--his tail making a ‘thump thump thump’ against the floor. This clearly means he’d been watching me sleep. Just a skeevy pup.
Did I mention it was 4:30 am?
Bug spray is a lung-killer. Avoiding a repeat of my “jeans will stop mosquitos from biting me” mistake, I ended up nearly blinding myself with a massive cloud of bug spray. (I was coughing for at least five minutes.)
Dogs + tall fauna = nervous owners. Last time we went to Funks Grove, he ended up with a splinter in his paw--and so we stayed home yesterday. Apparently, he understood more than I’d thought, as he refused to venture off the main path today.
He normally goes off trail at least 50% of the time. I can’t complain, though, since the forest has exploded with life, meaning the fauna has become a 4.6ft sea of vegetation--meaning my only hope of keeping tabs on Ollie is watching for the occasional times his tail breaks the surface like a fluffy shark’s fin.
In other news...
Possible green thumb. My rubber tree cuttings have started to form definite roots! I’m trying not to assume that I’ll be able to actually grow a legitimate plant from them, but their progress is promising.
Potential nature-thief. I doubt I’ll do it--there are too many reasons not to--but I’m so tempted to find a plant in nature that I could actually grow indoors. The disease and pest hazard alone, though, continue to stop my kleptomaniacal lust. Still...maybe I could get some grass seeds from the wild specimens at Funks Grove...? That would be a fun little thing to grow indoors: grass.
