Friday, April 2, 2010

This shit does not define me.

I have had some very persistent, frustrating, cruel factors fucking up my mojo consecutively for a good 12 months now. Sitting here burning in anger, because I'm so SICK of it, I confidently and assertively, and with certainty, realize that THIS SHIT DOES NOT DEFINE ME.

I'm not even talking about ADHD...although god knows it doesn't help, haha.

I'm talking about my body rejecting nearly every anxiety medication I've tried. I'm talking about the thrill of remembering my natural anxiety I was trying to get rid of in the first that it's back and beating me upside the head on a regular basis as I am sans anxiety meds. I'm talking about how I spent the entire day today, perfectly "functional" but feeling like my entire body was going to explode. People DO NOT GET how much it sucks to be able to FUNCTION like that. Would non-functional be better? Oh, we're talking apples and oranges here people. When you are good at pretending you are functioning just fine, the expectation is that you are fine when you are not. And it takes a lot of energy to appear that way. It's a cruel reality either way.

I'm talking about how I can't try any new medications at least until May because I can't go through another semester, when I'm trying to graduate, having my brain chemicals hijacked by yet another indelicately calibrated dosage of prescriptions drugs because they don't make them in smaller increments.

You know...because people like me apparently don't fucking exist in FDA land...well FUCK YOU FDA, I fucking exist, and for the moment, I'm refusing your male-centric pharmacoepia. In your fucking land, FDA, only men and large people with "normal" metabolisms exist. In your world, 20% is a perfectly acceptable difference in effectiveness for drugs that are going to psychotropically FUCK me. Imagine that, being the person that makes a rule that actually says "oh hey, it's totally cool to fuck with people's psych meds by 20%". What a fucking asshole. Yeah you, asshole...when you go to hell can I light the fire?

I'm talking about trying to get caught up on school and life after months of pharmaceutical misery only to have physical details of my surroundings conspire to fuck me further. That means you Comcast...who insists that there's nothing wrong with our internet connection...and yet it waxes and wanes, just like my ability to focus. Unfortunately this totally compromises the ability of my ADHD brain to get any work done because every time I sit down to work at home your fucking substandard service stops working just when my brain is best able to concentrate. Every time it stops and starts it re-sets my brain. AWE.SOME.

And perhaps this also means I'm talking about YOU Google Docs, who REFORMATTED 50-60 pages of work I had already done...that I know have to RE-DO...because your fucking software vomited when it tried to speak Word. (Please techies, DO NOT OFFER ME SOLUTIONS FOR THIS...been there, done that, don't need to hear it right now.)

And of course...then there's the fact that when I don't have a solid internet connection, participating in online courses All of my current courses are online.

And let's just briefly mention that some interpersonal dynamics conspired in the past 12 months to really suck some life-force out of me, and while I learned a LOT, it would have been way awesomer to learn these things NOT while changing my brain chemicals. NOT while receiving a mental health diagnosis for the first time. NOT while trying to finish grad school. NOT while trying to run two businesses to the best of my abilities under these circumstances.

And could we perhaps discuss this assignment I need to finish tonight...that is a full 20 times more intensive than anything my classmates are working on, through a fluke of my past with this professor. It's been 15-20 hours of work so far. Hoping only five more to go? Because I can't do anything else until it's done.

I am angered, not because ADHD makes me impulsive...not because ADHD makes me reactive...I am legitimately angry because after the year I have been through I DO NOT NEED THESE EXTRA HELPINGS OF SHIT I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER.

Oh yes. I'm angry. I can see the finish line on all of this...I can see it and stupid crap just keeps popping up and obstructing my view, and delaying my homestretch's cruel, and it was breaking my heart, and making me so anxious I thought I might explode...but right now, I'm really just fucking angry.

Angry as fuck. And I suddenly realized that this SHIT does not define me. It does not have my permission to exist and so you know what? FUCK IT. IT DOESN'T. I am finishing this work at all costs so I never, ever have to be angry in quite this way again.

My boss bought me a pizza and a giant brownie. And I'm sitting at this computer until that god-damned piece of crap assignment is done and I can get past it to the next one...

I'm DONE with this...I am SO DONE.

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