Effing Imbalanced Brain Chemicals

Ever had someone tell you, a friend no less, that you are essentially useless?
Seems my numeric dyslexia, short term memory issues, and my poor eyesight and shaky hands make me too clumsy to even hold a flashlight properly. YES.
I cannot even hold a flashlight.
And I apparently do it so poorly, even someone who likes me feels compelled to tell me how incompetent I am.

I read an article about this mom with a Downe’s Syndrome and the headline was: THE ONLY DISABILITY IS A BAD ATTITUDE.

Absofuckinlutely. My shaky hands, memory problems, it’s all just a bad attitude. Thanksomuch, I am cured.

I mean, I get the idea of not limiting a child by society’s mandates of “normalcy”, but at the same time…It does a disservice to people who are plagued with problems that interfere with their ability to manage basic functionality. It’s not like the world makes accommodations for mentally ill people. So we are expected to “overcome” our illness without any concessions made to how had we struggle, the side effects of the medications, the fact that when your brain is off kilter, everything is off kilter with it.
I sleep in ninety minute spurts. Half the time I take meds I am starving yet the thought of food makes me nauseous which is double redundant because taking the meds on an empty stomach already made me nauseous. My entire day depends on whether my brain is telling me truth or lies or not telling me anything but the negative. I have no social life because of my illnesses.
How much more can an illness fuck you up before it’s considered legitimate?
No one wants an employee to show up for work drunk.
Yet when you’re mentally ill, that’s what it is akin to. Do you have the ability to make good choices? Of course. But choices are made based on information and when your brain is saying, “Oh, I’m manic, let’s get wasted and order a ton of shit on line, fuck the bills, I’m gonna live forfuckingever!” or…Is your brain telling you, “You are useless. You should kill yourself. Nothing will ever get better. Your kid would be better off without you.”
You cannot “positive think” yourself past these mental frames. If we could, NONE of us would take the plethora of pills with the ass trash side effects. Frankly, I could die happy without seeing a shrink or taking another pill ever again.
And in a way, we are caught in an epic catch 22.
There’s a faction against medication, calling it a lazy solution, altering who you really are,etc.
Then there’s the other faction who encounters us when the meds aren’t quite keeping the mood demons in check and tell us we need help.
What the actual fuck.

I just know it’s defeating to the soul to do your best and still be told you don’t make the grade. If that’s how friends view me, what chance do I have in the real world with people who only see me as far as I can be useful and productive? Not like they offer mental health sick days. “I’m feeling homicidal rage today, might be a good idea if I stayed home so no one, ya know, gets their head stuck in a garbage disposal.”
Of course, that leads to being questioned as to our fitness as parents, as pet owners, as independent adults. I mean, if you’re that tenuous, obviously you’re a danger and unstable.
It’s not *that* kind of instability.
But it very much is a daily thing we cannot predict and we cannot simply pop a pill like an aspirin and it’s gone away by the time we face the saltmill.
I digress.

So…I had a panic attack first thing after my second trip into the dish. This big ass tree trimmer truck was blocking the street and left me barely enough room to fit a fucking Yugo, let alone an old Chevy Caprice. I did not take a breath as I navigated through that, horrible visions of me gauging distance off by an eighth of an inch, resulting in the car peeling back like a sardine can.
Then I went to keep my friend’s spirits up and got my head bitten off a couple of times for doing just that with levity. Then I was told what an utter fuck up I am at everything and of course, it must just be lack of desire, I must just be lazy.
To take enough Xanax to stop my trembling hands would require me to sleep for a few hours. So my hands shake. My brain gets numbers screwed up. I don’t remember what I am told five seconds later. I can’t see tiny things.
I’m still a human being. I don’t deserve to be reduced to less than that just because my functionality is…hindered.

Yeah, sometimes, that’s the only thing I know to say. I still don’t get why it’s such an offensive word. From a practical standpoint, “fuck” is the swiss army knife of the english language. Noun, verb, adjective…Fuck, what more could I fucking need?

I’m back in my bubble now, ruminating over my epic fail of existence in the dish of petri. I tried so hard. I kept my mind in a positive place (ish), tried to use humor, keep my anxiety under wraps..
And it still wasn’t good enough.

The only saving grace is that I have never allowed myself to solely exist based on the validation of others. I’d have committed suicide before age ten if I’d counted on those around me to make me feel like my identity is worthwhile.
I have flaws but sometimes…I like who I am. Not in a conceited “I wanna hump my own leg” way. (I’m soo not attracted to myself.) I just don’t see what’s so fatal about my quirks. OMG, she has posters on her walls still? That’s so immature!
My mom’s pushing seventy and her room is an Elvis shrine.
Guess she is immature too.
OMG, Niki thinks coffins and skulls are cool, what a freak.
Um…Yeah, fuck off. I’ve been dark since I was six and reading Fangoria. Except I don’t view it as being dark, it’s just stuff that I find interesting and it makes me giddy instead of sad.

I think the biggest fuck up ever done by the DSM is to make every quirk some sort of personality disorder to the extent none of us are allowed a personality unless it comes from the socially acceptable template.(Meaning less than zero personality.) I gave up on the whole book when I read that they wanted to include “introversion” as a disorder. Seriously? Yet extroversion is okay?

So yeah. That’s two long rambling pointless posts today and the day is young.
Don’t judge me.

Now…everyone go watch some clown porn. I hear it boosts the mood. I won’t be joining, however, because I think clowns are creepy and would rather let slugs crawl over my bare feet than look at a clown.
And I fucking hate slugs.
Clown porn for all!

I think I’ll just go check out some Alienware laptops. That’s my idea of porn, sad as it sounds.
Sadder still is I will never have the money to own one.
Kinda akin to men looking at Playboy. They love looking but they know they’re unlikely to ever land a playmate.
Alienware….Porn for nerds.

(New disorder coming to a DSM near you.)


9 Responses to “Effing Imbalanced Brain Chemicals”

  1. I had a cbt counselor who told me in the first session, that positive thinking is illogical and that I shouldn’t do it.

    • I had a counselor tell me to approach all with “cautious optimism”…Hope for the best while being prepared for the worst. I find that has served me far better than any sunshine spewage. Nowadays though his advice is considered “pessimistic.”
      I’ve kept adhering to it because it works for me. Everyone else can piss rainbows and unicorns. I just find that painful. 😉

  2. Never got into the clown porn. The rainbow wig and the big red flipper feet reminded me of some demented platypus…

  3. Reblogged this on Tessa Can Do IT! and commented:
    This is saying what I would like to say, but don’t have the nerve.

    • I didn’t really talk about it the first ten years or so other than in generalities. But having hit the twentieth anniversary of being diagnosed…I figure I have earned the right to be nervy and speak my mind. None of us should have to feel bad for speaking our truth.
      It’s quite cathartic. And thank you for the reblog 🙂

  4. well written, and thanks to speaking for all of us who are too disabled–that is ‘lazy’–to shout it from our own rooftops.

    • Glad you enjoyed the read. It’s one of my soap box issues I address frequently, probably because my own family is so non supportive. I’m battling my own family as well as the naysayers of society, so I speak out a LOT. 😉

  5. Perfectly articulated.

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