Welcome To My Mind

Thick thighs, witchy vibes, mentally ill but still alive 🌱

[musingsofuttermadness]

We don’t talk about this Enough

We don’t talk enough about the shame and guilt and disappointment attached to ADHD and other disorders affecting executive function.

The shame of living in messy spaces and not being able to just sweep the fucking floor like everyone else. And not brushing your teeth or hair for days or weeks and eventually having to spend thousands at the dentist and get a buzz cut.

The shame of always running late due to time blindness. And this extending to being late with deadlines at work or school, when in reality you had to take sick days because your brain wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

The shame of having sensory meltdowns because the world is too much, but being seen as having adult temper tantrums.

The guilt of knowing that you have so much you need to do, but you just can’t, no matter how hard you fucking try.

The guilt of knowing you can’t be a typical ‘good friend’ because you’re often inconsistent and even unreliable.

The guilt of knowing the food you’re about to buy is probably going to gather mold at the back of the fridge before getting thrown out; but you have to buy it anyway or you won’t eat.

The disappointment in yourself when you’ve been hyper-sexual for a week and now feel used and dirty and full of regret.

The disappointment you see in the eyes of the people you love when they see you curled up on the couch instead of following through on your plans, or doing the work you need to do, or doing your chores; but not knowing that you’re screaming inside to just do something, anything.

The disappointment of finally feeling like yourself, enjoying new hobbies, and functioning well again; then falling back into executive dysfunction and depression without any warning.

The shame, guilt, and disappointment of being afraid to share this with neurotypical people out of fear they might just say:

“Stop being so lazy” or “stop making excuses” or “but I saw you last week and you were fine”

As a result of silencing these conversations, we continue the vicious cycle and perpetuate our feelings of utter worthlessness; we suffer and we isolate and sometimes we even give up.

We don’t talk about this enough.

I think it’s time we start.

[musingsofuttermadness]

My Anger Armours Me

Sometimes I hold my anger so close to my heart that it burns and leaves a branded mark.

I question why I lean into rage when I know other ways;

So many coping skills and tools yet I choose this embrace.

The red hot fire almost inspires me to survive,

Like some sort of fucked up thrill I chase to feel alive.

Anger.

The hellfire that fuels my defence against danger;

These deep emotions like fear and grief are easily buried beneath fury.

For it’s far easier to feel rage and wage war than it is to be gentle and heal the hurt underneath.

What’s left of me if I no longer embody fury?

Who will I be if not vengeful and hardened;

If not the goddess of darkness;

If not mistress of madness…

How will I know I am safe;

If I let go of these faces;

If I forfeit the cave of a grave I call home…

If I am no longer angry;

If rage and fury no longer armour me;

What will be left of me…?

[musingsofuttermadness]

Self-love is a Spectrum

I was always far too sensitive

to sound, sight, touch;

it was all just too much.

The world itself was so

loud and bright,

it triggered my fight or flight

and I always fought.

It was—and still is—exhausting.

Sensory overload was something I experienced

but I didn’t know how to define it.

So I just internalised it,

pushing the panic further and further down,

learning to mask and learn how

to ignore the overwhelm

so I wouldn’t seem so weird.

For years I passed as a gifted, but strange kid

who hid the feelings of too much,

who sifted through the clouds above

that my head kept disappearing into.

Soon I aged out of the gifted label.

My potential faded

and I was left unstable,

with minimal coping skills that could get me through school;

I was drowning in expectations that I couldn’t live up to.

So I did the only thing left to do.

I rebelled in an effort to survive,

becoming disruptive, defiant, defensive;

the three dreaded D’s

of teenage life.

And when it all fell apart and I couldn’t mask it anymore,

my mother took me to a professional.

And for the first time, I felt seen.

I felt heard.

No longer walking a blurred tight rope,

trying not to fall.

ADHD

Attention Deficit (Hyperactive) Disorder.

So much made sense.

I was no longer the broken daughter,

I was just different.

But still, I chose ignorance.

Only years later have I begun to explore

what my adhd and neurodiversity

actually mean.

I was so close to fully accepting myself,

and my brain,

and my mental health,

when it all started happening again.

I’ve been living in sensory overwhelm for the past few months,

looking for routes and back roads so I wouldn’t have to confront

the reality that it’s more than ADHD.

Don’t get me wrong,

my diagnosis still stands,

it’s still a part of who I am,

but there’s more going on inside my mind.

A Spectrum of more to clarify.

ASD to be specific.

Autism Spectrum Disorder.

Autistic:

a word I never thought would apply to me;

an added layer of neurodiversity.

I don’t know how to feel.

I’m oscillating between relieved

and devastated.

If I had known back then that I wasn’t broken,

maybe it wouldn’t have been so frustrating.

Maybe I would have been kinder to little me.

But I know I can’t change the past.

All I can do now is give myself permission to unmask;

and love myself throughout the process.

I know that some days I won’t get it right.

But I’ll give myself space and acknowledge

that forgiveness looks different for everyone.

There is no proven equation,

no one true answer to the, ‘How do I accept myself?” question.

I suppose, in a way, self-love is also a spectrum.

[musingsofuttermadness]

Why do you stay: a lesson in the stages of grief

Sometimes the prospect of leaving

mimics the feeling

you’d have if the sky were falling down

because if there were a way out

you would have found it by now.

…

There’s no closure

when you’re left a victim of theft,

you were robbed

because how could they stop

loving you when

all you can do is love them

even more than you love yourself

and you delve

into this spiral

of self-destructive denial

believing you are not enough,

so you confuse their so-called love

with their violence

and the silence is suffocating

you feel like you’re waiting

to drown

in the ocean of their expectations that defy

any remotely

sound

logic.

…

You begin existing

around the twisting

question of

why

you stay with someone so poisonous

that their touch instills in you

a hopelessness

that only reiterates

the question that remains,

WHY

do you stay,

why

after all this time

do you still fall for their lies

upon lies

upon lies.

…

You have flooded lakes

with the tears you cry

every time they break

something inside of you

and the truth

makes itself known

every time you feel the terror

you should never

associate with a home.

…

By now you know

that if the answer existed

you would have found it

and so the question still remains:

Why

do you

Stay

…

?

[musingsofuttermadness]

Just Be Here

There’s been so much loss around me in the past month. I dread every phone call, wondering if we’ve lost someone else.

Yesterday I was told that a friend, a fellow addict, passed away. He was always good to me. Welcomed me, loved me, told me to keep going when I didn’t want to. He died on the table during a routine surgery. It shouldn’t have happened, but it also wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just… is.

I went to a meeting, a support group in a way, with other recovering addicts last night. One of his closest friends was there. We hugged after the meeting and we cried and we held each other together because we were both falling apart. She recently lost her grandfather too.

Another close friend of mine stood on the side awkwardly as he asked me if I was okay, and I replied honestly (for the first time in weeks) that no, I wasn’t okay. He couldn’t make eye contact and he eventually said that he never knows how to help people through these kinds of things.

I hugged him and said, “Just be here.”

It’s natural for us to want to fix the things around us, to want to take away the hurt our loved ones are feeling. But when it comes to things like grief, it can’t be fixed. Only felt.

Some things can’t, or don’t need to, be fixed. They just need to be felt. So just be here while we feel it.

[musingsofuttermadness]

I Remember You

Your mind isn’t what it used to be. You’re scattered and scared and lost and confused. All you know right now is that you’re not ‘you’.

You’ve told us many times that you’re ‘just waiting to die’ and it’s bittersweet that you’re getting your wish. Of course your loss is heartbreaking, but I’m so grateful your pain and suffering will come to an end.

You’re dying, more than ever, right now. The doctors are telling us you won’t make it through the weekend. Our family is in the process of saying their goodbyes, and I can’t help but wonder how much of them you remember.

You may not remember most of my life, and that’s not your fault, but I remember you. I remember your influence in my life. We may not have been particularly close, but you influenced my life in so many ways. I remember playing Cluedo with you, and listening to you tell me stories about your life. And I remember your favourite wool jersey that was scratchy and smelled like you. I remember the sound of your voice.

• • •

I remember writing this post a few days before you passed. I didn’t want to post it because I didn’t want it to be real.

Now you’re gone and that is far too real.

I miss you.

[musingsofuttermadness]

Death is a Strange thing; Grief is even Stranger

The word ‘Death’ can mean so many different things.

The ending of a Life, a rebirth, an indefinite goodbye.

In some cultures Death is celebrated because it signifies the soul’s transition from one realm to the next. In other cultures Death isn’t the focus, but rather it is the Life lived that it celebrated.

While the varying cultural practices and beliefs about Death is fascinating, I’m more intrigued by how each individual experiences Death, Dying, or Death of those around them.

For me, Death itself is neither good nor bad. It just simply… is. It’s inevitable, unavoidable, and one of Life’s very few certainties. I’m not, and never have been, Afraid of Death.

What I do Fear and struggle to accept, though, is Grief. And there are many types of Grief. As humans, we Grieve for Lives irrevocably changed, Lived never lived, opportunities never seized, goodbyes, endings, hell, Loss in general. We even sometimes find ourselves Grieving the Living. And of course, we Grieve the Dead.

I suppose I Fear Grief because it, too, is inevitable and unavoidable. With most other Heavy Emotions, we have remedies to ease the Pain. When we’re Lonely, we can reach out. When we’re Angry, we can address the cause and/or release it in healthy ways. When we’re Sad, we have creature comforts we can turn to. When we’re Afraid, we can do all of the above.

But when we Grieve… Nothing can take that Pain away. Many of us have tried to numb the Pain, but it always comes back. I spent years trying to drown my Grief, only to realise that it floats. I tried to drug it away, and cut it away, and fuck it away.

But it turns out I was only pushing it down deeper inside of myself, allowing it to make a home within my heart. I’ve been actively cleaning out the Wreckage of my past, and Healing the Grief I tried to ignore, naively believing that once Grief is Healed, it never returns. But that’s not how Life works.

Grief is inevitable, unavoidable, and one of Life’s few certainties. At this moment in time, I’m Grieving someone who is Dying. I’ve Loved them all my life, and soon I will be Grieving their Death.

Choosing to Love someone or something means you’re signing up for the Pain that comes with it, because it’s a package deal—and a catch twenty-two. If you never Love, you will always Grieve. If you choose to Love, you will still Grieve, but perhaps that Grief will be Worth it.

I can say, with absolute certainty, that the Love was well Worth the Grief.

And for that, I am Grateful.