I wanted to make note of today in case sometime down the road (it'll come, I know it) I get complacent with knowing I have ADHD and stop perceiving that I have ADHD. I mean, I've learned that I have it and I got a diagnosis and I was all Si satisfied that I can shut people up and be like, "Yeah, I got an official diagnosis, yo, with a doctor and everything, so screw you," and get meds legitimately and stuff. And then I promptly forgot what getting tested for it was even about.
I mean, it's okay, it happens. You get so wrapped up in the joy of actually getting what you want that you forget why you even wanted it in the first place. Or like, you're so busy being smug about being right that you forget what you're even right about and if it even matters (being right, that is). In my case, I wanted this diagnosis so I can get meds, so I can improve on tasks and things, like self-regulation and doing stuff and maybe complaining about it ('cause I complain about things I don't even care about doing) but not actually complaining for real or not doing stuff on purpose (more like being aware that you're not doing stuff and you can't bridge the canyon between what you think you should do and actually doing it).
Today, I got a reminder. Or I realized something. I was doing laundry for the first time in forever, not because I never wear clean clothes but because I leave that for my mother to do in practice for my future years as her basement tennant and I completely flipped a shit.
Okay, what happened was:
1) I got confused by the knobs on the washing machine because they had no "normal" setting. They had three general setting which each had their own settings, which confused and blatted me, so..
2) ..I called my mother who also got frustrated at my blindness and by inability to read. I still couldn't find the normal setting, so I settled (haha, see what I did there?) on the heavy-duty regular setting because I had all thick sweaters and jeans and stuff anyway so whatever.
3) I was stuffing all the clothes in the machine and felt that there was some space left, so I made the split-second decision to wash my scarf. I looked for the tag with the washing instructions on my scarf and after two minutes finally found it, only to get confused at them. (I don't even know why I bothered to look for them, I can't make sense of the symbols on any tag on any piece of clothing.) In the end, I just stuffed it into the machine as well and dumped detergent in there.
4) After the cycle ended and started refilling with water, which I was told/remembered that that was when I'm supposed to add fabric softener, so I opened the lid only to discover my white scarf and splotches of blue on it. I felt it and was surprised at how cold the water was. (I'm a chore noob. I've been spoiled. Sue me.) Anyway, not to worry, it was just detergent. And then I screamed in my head, "Just detergent?!?! Fuuuuuuuuuuuucccckkk." So I took the scarf out and plopped it into the plastic bucket that was conveniently placed beside the machine and hoped that some of the detergent had been successfully dissolved during the cycle.
5) I took the bucket to the sink and started filling it with water and realized that when the machine was filling up, with cold water, the rest of the house only had hot water. I waited, filled the bucket halfway, and started massaging(?) the scarf, generally hand-washing it, I guess? I got fed up with the bucket and tried to rinse it in the sink. Took a bit of time, but that was okay. I hung on the upstairs balcony to dry.
6) When the fabric softening cycle ended, I dumped most of the clothes in a basket to bring to the basement to hang on this skeletal contraption for air-drying purposes and actually got there when I heard the telephone ringing, so I raced upstairs and picked up the phone, only to just miss the call. No problem. I could just call them back, right? I dial the kitchen phone, 'cause it has call display, but then noticed that I couldn't use the display and dial at the same time, so I tried to recite the number out loud in the hopes that it'd work. I tried dialling, and then I forgot. I looked at the display again and I forgot again.
That was when I swore and cussed out the caller. I got so frustrated as to actually let out a scream of frustration and anger and slammed my hands against the coach in some attempt to move it, I think? I managed only to hurt my wrists due to the quickness of my action and marched back to the basement, which was when I realized that I was having a tantrum.
I was having a tantrum! I hadn't felt this in such a long time because I hadn't tried to do things in such a long time. The only other instances I can remember having tantrums is trying to practice piano. I felt the burn of tears and the back of my eyes and continued hanging my clothes.
Now that I've had time to cool off and work it out, I've come to the conclusion that I really do in fact need meds. I got all complacent because I can survive without them, it's true. But the fact that I couldn't find the knob I wanted and so got blatted? Also when I couldn't handle the missed phone call which by the way I still haven't called back? And what about the call I got earlier which I did answer but got confused and so completely shut down and became completely unhelpful (half due to my actual unhelpfulness in answering the person's questions and half because I realized how unhelpful I was being and panicked and so, couldn't even offer alternative options)?
Clearly, I need something to help me weather through things so I don't get weirdly warped and guilty because I can't perform the simplest tasks.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Headache
I don't want a pat on the back or anything (and I can guarantee no one, including me if I wasn't writing this myself, would offer me one) because I don't deserve one nor is it really helpful in any way. I just want to vent.
Now that that's out of the way, I just did one of the hardest things I've had to do in a really long time. It's not a particularly difficult task. In fact it's a lot watered down compared to what I expected it to be, but the point is that it was hard and I've already said that three times.
Writing a resume is really hard for me. I don't have a handle on why right now but it's just hard. I think it's because I can't be honest. No matter what I write on a resume, it always feels like I'm lying. I mean, I'm pretty maladaptive and when faced with having to write out a list of my own achievements, I feel like crying because I don't have any. Now other people would say that that's not true, I've got all these awards(that don't mean jack) and I'm good at writing (in what way and how would you know anyway?!) and I'm such a good and talented person with tons of potential.
(Who is this person you're talking about? I don't see her anywhere. I can't reconcile your idea of me with my idea of me because your idea's too simplistic and you don't bother to dig deeper and my idea's too extreme and negative because I don't trust myself and so create a self-fulfilling prophecy thing where I fail at life.)
I guess another reason I hate writing resumes is that everything that goes on there, my educational background, my awards, my interests--they don't matter. None of it matters. I could be President of the Recycling Club and still be a nasty person. I could have joined all the right clubs and have all the right references and I'd still hate myself. It doesn't matter. I always think that it doesn't matter because I'd still be under-qualified. It'll never be enough. I'll never be enough.
And so there it is, the real reason I hate writing resumes and performing all these rituals that won't necessarily help my case. I feel like I will never get the job or deserve the job whether I get it or not. I feel like these things are too awesome and too all-encompassing, too enriching. I could never be worthy of them, I wouldn't learn as much from them as another person would, I would take them for granted, I'd waste such great opportunities. I don't deserve your consideration, anyone's consideration. I'm pathetic.
And I'm not even putting on a front to gain sympathy. Maybe it started out that way as a child, you know, you see people fake modesty and successfully fish for compliments and stuff. But this hasn't been fake modesty since childhood. I truly believe this.
But I still did this. I'm still doing this. I still doing all these things that are so, so hard for me. I wrote a resume, a functional resume, but still a resume. If I did it two days ago or even yesterday, I'd be like, whatever, but I wrote it today. I forced myself to open a document and open the site and follow the template and spent time on it. I wouldn't let myself get on skype until I did because it would a)have been an escape, and b)I'd be told by these wonderful friends of mine who wouldn't take my bullshit for an answer to do it anyway. And I totally could've just done a) and have it progress to b) only to prove myself right about my not deserving them because I would disappoint them by not even trying. But I didn't even let it get that far.
And even though technically, they were still most of the reason I did this in the first place, I eventually got through on my own.
And that's why I feel like crying.
Now that that's out of the way, I just did one of the hardest things I've had to do in a really long time. It's not a particularly difficult task. In fact it's a lot watered down compared to what I expected it to be, but the point is that it was hard and I've already said that three times.
Writing a resume is really hard for me. I don't have a handle on why right now but it's just hard. I think it's because I can't be honest. No matter what I write on a resume, it always feels like I'm lying. I mean, I'm pretty maladaptive and when faced with having to write out a list of my own achievements, I feel like crying because I don't have any. Now other people would say that that's not true, I've got all these awards(that don't mean jack) and I'm good at writing (in what way and how would you know anyway?!) and I'm such a good and talented person with tons of potential.
I guess another reason I hate writing resumes is that everything that goes on there, my educational background, my awards, my interests--they don't matter. None of it matters. I could be President of the Recycling Club and still be a nasty person. I could have joined all the right clubs and have all the right references and I'd still hate myself. It doesn't matter. I always think that it doesn't matter because I'd still be under-qualified. It'll never be enough. I'll never be enough.
And so there it is, the real reason I hate writing resumes and performing all these rituals that won't necessarily help my case. I feel like I will never get the job or deserve the job whether I get it or not. I feel like these things are too awesome and too all-encompassing, too enriching. I could never be worthy of them, I wouldn't learn as much from them as another person would, I would take them for granted, I'd waste such great opportunities. I don't deserve your consideration, anyone's consideration. I'm pathetic.
And I'm not even putting on a front to gain sympathy. Maybe it started out that way as a child, you know, you see people fake modesty and successfully fish for compliments and stuff. But this hasn't been fake modesty since childhood. I truly believe this.
But I still did this. I'm still doing this. I still doing all these things that are so, so hard for me. I wrote a resume, a functional resume, but still a resume. If I did it two days ago or even yesterday, I'd be like, whatever, but I wrote it today. I forced myself to open a document and open the site and follow the template and spent time on it. I wouldn't let myself get on skype until I did because it would a)have been an escape, and b)I'd be told by these wonderful friends of mine who wouldn't take my bullshit for an answer to do it anyway. And I totally could've just done a) and have it progress to b) only to prove myself right about my not deserving them because I would disappoint them by not even trying. But I didn't even let it get that far.
And even though technically, they were still most of the reason I did this in the first place, I eventually got through on my own.
And that's why I feel like crying.
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