Walk with me for a moment

all of us in some way have, or develop limits throughout our life. many of us as we age may share a common limit like not being able to life a heavy box, or not being able to stand up as fast as we once could. some limits may be more unique to us, and may only really be understood by a doctor, or someone who experiences the same limit you do. it may not be apparent to everyone why depression makes me sabotage good thoughts. many people wouldn't understand what a sense of impending doom feels like when experiencing a panic attack. many times in life i've been told to stop bouncing my leg, without consideration given to the idea that bouncing my leg is allowing me to concentrate on the conversation currently being had.

and some of these unique limits we can learn to work with or adapt to. major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and ADHD for me are effectively treated by medication and therapy. but this doesn't fix everything. there are limits i will always have because f these things i've been diagnosed with. some of them are very core to me. most of my life, i and many other folks with a disability i think have never been afforded the prescription for these limits, which is acknowledgement of them. that in this moment, we can't. maybe later we can, maybe we will never be able to. but quite simply, we can't

for most of my life, both professionally and personally. i have been made to feel like saying "i can't" is not an option. i have to wonder why this is. often for me it is simply needing some space away from everything. to calm my feelings of being overwhelmed, or to charge my social batteries because of a long and involved interaction with someone. in my personal life, i've been treated as though a temporary inability to display affection, such as not being able to give a hug. was as much as saying "i don't love you any more". why must it be like this? why can i not be afforded control over myself in these moments? is it a fear of me having control? does my boss think giving me 30 minutes of space after a tense troubleshooting call will cause me to form a union? does my lover worry that my inability to give a hug means i've given up on them?

is it really this simple? are they unable to let me have control of the situation due to fear or a lack of confidence. i'd really like to know. i've walked too close to death too many times in my life for this to be the answer. but if it is i'll accept it, and i'll never give a single person who is unwilling to afford me agency over my life a second of my time again. damn you if this is your reasoning. go to therapy yourself if you have trouble letting others control parts of their life.

at the age of 33 i realized the game i was playing was rigged. that i would never win this game with what i had going on in my life i voiced this to my psychiatrist, who had been seeing me since i was 18. they agreed that they could come to a conclusion through consistent appointments spanning such a long time of my life. that the 40 hour work week didn't work for my head. that in my professional and personal life, my limits were not being respected. so i began the process of filing for disability. with the understanding i could only work part time moving forward. or i would the effectiveness of treatment for ADHD, depression, and anxiety at risk

this is a tough pill to swallow at first. despite being given the answer you wanted. that you are now completely right about all the times you couldn't. so much so that your federal government must aid you to ensure you have a stable life it just sucks to hear that's how life wil be for you. i didn't take it well at first i spiraled quickly, overwhelmed with the thought of how much better my life could've been if things had been noticed sooner. but you have to get out of that loop. there are no possibilities in the past. you only have now and what is ahead of you. through therapy i would understand that this was a way point in a new part of my life. one where i would be afforded the chance to say "i can't". one where my limits will be acknowledged. one where i feel comfortable standing up for myself if a future romantic partner is unable to understand or accept my limits.

i now understand that i will have energy to look after my physical and mental health. to pursue interests that those without my limits are often free to pursue without second thought. i've been given these chances now, and i'm quite happy about it. i know for a long time i've wanted to help others. in some way i want to make an impact. with time, that is now a possibility for me. work will no longer turn me into someone who can't even say a complete sentence after clocking out. i can finally have goals and interests, because work is not demanding all of the energy i have

still though. i have to wonder what the world would be like if it was okay to say "i can't" i had to go through a lot of tough life experiences to finally feel i was allowed to say it. i think it shouldn't be like this. i think humans always exceed when we cooperate and understand one another. any successful leader at a job knows their team's strengths and weaknesses, and learns to make them compliment, rather than harm each other. why is this not the norm? why was i not allowed to say "i can't" for so long?

i've been over a few topics on my mental health journey on this blog. i've come to understand through looking at what i'm going through and through talking with it to my therapist. that mainly i am grieving the loss of a relationship. that even though it needed to end, that i may not have loved them for a while before it ended. the loss of something that was once so special is a perfectly valid reason to grieve. grieving has a few stages, i think i've made it through the ones that put you in a low, very dark place. i've had my time to think, to worry. overall with an understanding and a want for the relationship to not continue. that it can't for both of our sakes. recently i entered a new stage, also part of grieving. anger

anger is an odd emotion for me, it is very inward. i am my harshest critic and i will pull myself through a fire to prove a point at the expense of only me. but what i seem to be angry about most is what i've let depression get away with all this time. i've talked about how it affects my environment, but it affect me too. greatly. i think for many years at this point i have not cared much about my personal appearance. even as i began to realize i identified as a woman, i didn't put much thought into it. depression is happy to wrap you up in a fog of sadness. you look at yourself in the mirror and maybe you don't even recognize yourself. but at the same time you wonder if you disappeared would anyone care? and when you are asking yourself questions like this, you don't particularly care about the poor human being looking back at you in the mirror, even if their eyes are begging you to push forward and get better

but it has changed recently. i had to go pick up medication as i usually do every month. in about the simplest way i can explain it, i was overwhelmed with the urge to not look like shit for once. i realized i could look nice, just for myself. it isn't like i'm going anywhere important. but i'm allowed to feel happy by looking nice in a way that makes me happy. so i cleaned myself up. i paid extra attention to my hair as it has always brought me happiness. i began using the skin cream i've had for awhile that helps with all the acne i've had building up form just not looking after myself. i shaved the facial hair off of my face that i disdain, but couldn't bring myself anything to do about.

so i went to the pharmacy, got my medicine. maybe your familiar with a certain pharmacy that prints mile long receipts. the funny thing is sometimes those receipts pay off. this time they did. i had what amounted to a $7 gift card on my receipt. and i new immediately what i needed to get. i had been looking on the pharmacy website earlier in the day. i had seen them. the first step in expressing myself visibly in the way i see myself. press on nails. nothing fancy, but not a waste of money either for learning how to apply them, and maybe getting a fun photo or two and feeling happy for the day

and happy i was. they were a little crooked, they weren't perfect. but the joy i felt looking down at my hand. i rushed to the mirror and put my hands out so i could see my nails. the smile beaming off of my face said it all. this is the right direction, this is all making a little more sense now. i care about myself a little more now. things don't happen over night, and it will all take time. but the validation was huge for me, i felt cute. i felt beautiful

i ended up buying another set later on, that can be reapplied. typing is very interesting with nails on i have to admit. but i'm sure i'll get used to it, i look to cute to ever want to be without something like this again. i'm very happy today

in november, my fiance and i broke up. it was the end of an on again off again 5 year relationship. often broken by their refusal to get help and fixed by promises to get help that never came. i still call them my fiance though, after all of that. i know we aren't getting back together, and ex-fiance is the appropriate term to use now. i understand that. as bad as things got, as much hardship and struggle they placed me in, i felt they always deserved a chance at getting better. that they could once again be the person i laid next to one night and confessed my love for.

every month, at the end of the month since breaking up. mail arrives at my house for them. it is the type of mail one would want to arrive at their current address, and would be quick to correct the address of if they had moved. it is not my mail to open, the contents are unknown and will stay that way. every month they go back in the mailbox noting that this is the incorrect address for them. every month it is a reminder that they may be unhoused, that they may not be getting help. that they may not be here any more

i'm unsure what to do about this. ending a relationship means grieving, i understand that. how do i make peace with someone possibly not being here any more with out ever knowing that is the case? despite everything bad that happened, they deserved help. they deserved a life of happiness, even though it would no longer be with me. it is easy to say this isn't my concern any more, that it shouldn't have been sooner than later when they could not be trusted to get help. i just can't see it that way. my heart aches at the idea of someone i once cared for never getting the chance to be happy. i'll never know for sure. i was never able to contact them the first time the mail showed up. i never met any of their family or friends

i'm not owed an answer to this, we very rarely get closure to traumatic events in our life. it is instead important that i focus on getting better, and grieving the end of the relationship. hopefully this is just a mistake, maybe they did honestly forget and they are getting help just like i am. that is what i will hope for. i can't know otherwise, so i must hope

i had awaken from an early morning nap today. i heard my mom on the phone, it sounded like someone from our family. i didn't think much of it. there's usually not much to think of, they keep in touch with my mom but never seem interested in knowing about me or what i'm up to. i went about my usual routine of making a 2nd pot of coffee. my mom asks me if i want to talk to my cousin. i was surprised. i think it has been over 10 years since i've talked to this cousin

the phonecall started how phonecalls usually go with me when i barely know someone. i don't really elaborate, one word answers, no sign of interest or disinterest. they brought up my cat that they remembered, and i couldn't help but talk about the creature i love. so i gushed about baxter and they told me they had two cats. they asked me about my year, and the conversation about baxter has disarmed me i think, i was honest. i told them i was diagnosed with adhd this year and they told me they had also been diagnosed with adhd in their 30s. this was something that i wasn't expecting. we both related with how it made so much sense, we both knew why as children we weren't diagnosed. i felt seen by the last person i would expect, a family member

we talked more about how my mental health wasn't great. they were affirming, and supportive of me seeking help and getting better. sharing their own stories about getting help with their mental health. what was going on here? why is my family nice to me now? no one ever wanted to talk to me before and it feels like this past 10 years i've been talking to my cousin constantly because we're having such an honest heartfelt conversation

for now my mom is the only one that knows i'm a woman, and this was our first phonecall in 10 years so i felt it better to see how this goes. is this genuine interest from my family to want to know me now? when my mom got off the phone she told me that 3 of my cousins very much love me and want to get to know me better. i told her i didn't know what to do with the emotion i felt when she said that. i never expected to hear that in my life. it was nice, to feel cared for by someone other than my mom for once. that there was genuine interest in wanting to know me and it was people i had always wanted to know better too

this was the last thing i expected today, and it is currently 1 pm. it is certainly nice to know some of my family wants to know me, and will hopefully want to know the real me with time as well too

a few weeks ago in a post i had written that the holiday season is notoriously tough for those with mental illness. i think i had bitten off more than i could chew coming into this holiday week. i was quite confident last week, full of happiness, and positive energy. my therapist and i were talking about how working on small tasks even though depression tries to get us not to can help us accomplish tougher tasks. i thought i was ready for one of those tougher tasks.

in 2020 i started vaping. the reason for picking it up makes sense to me, and i'm not ashamed that i picked up this habit. it was the middle of lockdown, my ex was battling cancer, and a surprise jaw infection had nearly killed them a few weeks earlier. we scrambled to find somewhere that could give them the antibiotics they needed, and were so lucky to find a place that littler saved their life. and so on top of all of this, i was in therapy and on medication. my therapist was homophobic, but i was too beat down to speak up. my psychiatrist was as helpful as they could be. on top of all of this, the neighbor above us liked to take women home and beat them, nearly every night. we knew what was going on, we weren't stupid. no one would do anything about it, no matter how many times we called the cops no one would listen.

i started to question if the things i was experiencing were real. was this all a bad dream? would i just wake up at my mom's house and it would all be okay? sometimes i really hoped that was the answer, but nothing was helping. i knew one thing, i came from a family of alcoholics, and reaching for the bottle would do no good. nothing good would come from that. so i reached for nicotine, even though i watched my grandmother die from lung cancer when i was 15 from a lifelong smoking habit. there was nothing else left to help me, no resource that i could get my brain to think about to reach out to. i was at the end of the line, and something had to give. so one night, on my way to work at the webhost. i stopped at a gas station and picked up a vape. i sat outside work in the parking lot and inhaled. the battery was charged, i coughed my ass off cause vapes kind of burn when you aren't used to them. i took another inhale. it happened, for 15 minutes, the world was okay. i felt alright. i looked forward to work, i was at peace. i wasn't worried. it is about as simple as that, it gave me 15 minutes of peace every so often, that medication, my therapist, nor my partner could give me.

four years later i've kept the habit. my partner left me, i have a different much nicer therapist, the guy that once lived above me in that apartment building finally got jail time for what he did. but i still vape. it doesn't give me those 15 minutes any more. it is just something i do. i tried quitting for the first time yesterday. it started well, but i stumbled. my mind began racing as i entered withdraw. my heart was racing like a panic attack, and my anxiety medication couldn't help me. so i dug through my trash like an animal to find a half used old tank of juice for my vape. and i inhaled, and i cried. because i failed myself. i let myself down. no one suffers for this but myself

maybe this is too much to ask of myself to do right now. it has been quite the end of the year. i'm not exactly mentally strong. resilient yes, but perhaps not ready to face a demon like a nicotine dependency. maybe this is something i can visit when i am stronger, and better off over all. still, i'm a little mad i couldn't do it. i really wanted it to work