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.
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