In the waiting room.

I’m sitting in the waiting room at the dentist. The appointment is for my youngest kiddo. Just a checkup. No big deal.

The dentist has always given me major anxiety. I recall being around the same age as my kiddo, 11 years old, absolutely terrified of the inevitable drilling. My teeth were always in need of repairing. My panic would peak right before I sat down in the monstrosity that was the dentist chair. By the time the dentist would take a look I’d be shaking uncontrollably. I look at my kiddo now, he’s sitting there, kicking his feet, without a care in the world. Lucky little shit. To not freak out over the most ridiculous things must be fantastic. But people without anxiety, I think, take for granted that their minds don’t run a million miles per minute over everything that could possibly go wrong during something so routine as a fucking dentist checkup.

Time draws near. Only another minute until the unsuspecting kiddo, without a care, gets into that gigantic chair to be poked in the gums and told to start flossing. No big deal.

While I may be in a negative mood I must admit that I am relieved I haven’t passed on this ridiculous fucking anxiety.

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Hmm…

Daily writing prompt
Why do you blog?

I blog because I’ve always loved to write. It began as a place to vent my frustrations. When I created this blog I was in the midst of a lot of drama. Surrounded by toxic individuals. So naturally, I needed somewhere to bitch about what I was going through. I learned a long time ago, that when I have things on my mind, writing my thoughts down calms my anxiety as well as my anger. I do not use this blog for that anymore. I cannot say what its for these days. Also, I deleted said posts. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to write about.

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Writing prompt to combat my ever growing writer’s block.

Daily writing prompt
What TV shows did you watch as a kid?

At the risk of making myself feel incredibly old…

My earliest memory of tv was Fraggle Rock, I think. There were others that I watched in Iceland but I cannot recall the names of any of them. However, after moving to the United States I watched a LOT of Gummy Bears, Care Bears, and Rainbow Bright. Fraggle Rock was my favorite though. I also watched shows like Chip n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers, Darkwing Duck, Top Cat and The Flinststones. There were some questionable (these days, although back then seemed fine) shows like Ren and Stimpy, Cow and Chicken, Courage the Cowardly Dog which I watched well into teenage years. By then I was also watching shows like Beavis and Butthead and Daria. I had friends and family that really loved the Simpsons, but I never got into it. Id watch it if it was on, though. I think in my teenage years was also when I began watching Southpark. And I quoted it far too often, much to others’ dismay.

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Happy Friggin’ Birthday To Me

Another year, just like that. I recall having something of an existential crisis when I turned thirty but at age forty there is only bewilderment. Where the hell did the time go? Perhaps its the pandemonium. Just existing, languid and lethargic, during isolation for nearly a year and then continuing the existence of nothingness for another year…. Only leaving my house to go to the doctor or dentist. Returning home to continue my depressive state of couch potato-ing.

After a couple of years of rapidly declining health, changing medications, tooth extractions, blood tests and more tests, its seems that some progress has finally been made. I went to the dentist the other day and when she said “no cavities” I clapped like a seal. Because dammit it felt good. And the relief. Oh em gee, the relief is indescribable. Since growing up in the states and never going to the doctor or the dentist due to parental neglect and then poverty as an adult, moving here to a country with national healthcare Ive been able to, slowly but surely, get things fixed that were in desperate need of it. My teeth were terrible. A couple of root canals became infected years ago, and now Ive finally gotten them out. Interestingly enough, my normally very pale face actually now has some color in it. So its probably that those infections were causing me way more trouble than I realized. The extractions of said teeth, however necessary, were quite traumatic. The first, I had to wait for an appointment while in an immense amount of pain. Taking antibiotics and pain relievers that tore through my digestive system like a tornado. The second one, no pain until I got to the dentist. It took him more than two hours to get the damn thing out. Stubborn fucking tooth. I was sick for days after that. My abdomen was sore from god knows what. It eventually subsided, after months of probiotics and enzymes and trying to change my diet as best as one with food aversions can manage.

This past year has been one of healing, you could say. After all that I mentioned above, I was beginning to get better. Meanwhile, my teenager’s mental health was declining. So I had to get her the support she needed. With my tunnel vision I was so focused on her that I neglected my own mental health. I almost lost my kid to depression. Putting my own self aside, its what parents do, isn’t it? Now that she is better I think I can finally manage to work on myself. I do feel better than before, but I have work to do. I need to process everything that has happened. Nearly losing my kid is quite the trigger. So process I must. And focus on the fact that she is still with us. Because that is what is more important.

I realize this is all I talk about. My health and my mental health. But its pretty much the only thing I have to deal with at this time. Where I grew up there was always drama and bullshit. Things for me to bitch about. I filled this blog with drug fueled rants for years. When I moved here, though, I deleted them all. I didn’t want to hold onto all of that. Although, I kind of did, in my mind, for some time. When one is accustomed to drama and chaos, peace can feel uncomfortable. I think the past ten years Ive been processing so much, much more than I actually realized. I don’t even really know myself that well. Since Ive lived in survival mode my entire life, I haven’t really lived. So who the fuck am I without all the chaos? That is something I will try to figure out this year, hopefully.

Another year. Another attempt at self betterment. Happy friggin birthday to me.

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Getting the kiddos ready for school and stuff and junk

School starts next week. I’ve procrastinated over the entire summer. I had planned at the beginning of summer to have all the things ready for the kids so that we wouldn’t be scrambling at the last week (lol) but that never really works when you’re neurodivergent. So far we have back to school clothes ready. However we still need certain school supplies. It feels like the summer passed in a blink of an eye. But also it feels like it took forever, mainly because the kids have been driving me absolutely bonkers. So, while I am rather stressed, I can at least look forward to getting a bit of peace and quiet during school hours.

So here I sit, at my computer. With a cup of coffee and a brain full of mush from the constant badgering from the offspring over the summer. Trying to gather my thoughts, but all I can muster is ongoing ringing and echoes of “mom!! Moooooom!!! Mom!!!” Oh, to have a moment to myself. T’would be lovely.

I’m coming to the realization that I must now devise a plan for myself. A winter plan, if you will. Id like to find something to occupy my time while the munchkins are at their schools. I’ve started painting, and while I do enjoy it, I do not find it all that fulfilling. Perhaps if I keep it going, over time it might?

As I grumble and groan over my lack of carrying out the oh so many plans I had for this summer, I have the audacity to try to “makes plans” for the winter. Its quite silly. I wanted to get so much done this summer, I had the time. Then the executive functioning issues reared their ugly heads. You sit there, looking at the task in front of you, and you think Hmm I need to do that and your brain/body combo goes nope. And that’s that until you look at the task again, rinse and repeat. And that’s basically how my summer went.

I wanted to redo the Destructo Beast’s bedroom. They are ten now and want something less girly and more grownup. I think the only way to get it done is to take one thing at a time. One very small thing at a time, over time. But knowing myself, one day I will over do it and shove all the tasks into one giant task and send myself into a rather unfortunate and painful fibro flare. Because this is how we do it.

It’s not like I never get things done, the most essential things do get done, eventually. It’s just usually at the very last minute, with lots of tears and stress. Every time I bring this up to an allistic, they try to be helpful and suggest things like making a list and Im like yea Ive tried everything you can think of. This is why its called a disability. Even with available accommodations, I struggle. The good thing is that I have learned to stop beating myself up over it. So that’s something, at least.

The kids are pretty much ready for the school year. At the very least, the essentials. Any extra stuff they may need or want we take care of as we go. So I don’t have to really stress that much, but I will. Im an anxious person.

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I May Have Found A New Hobby

Recently I decided to start a new hobby. I have always wanted to try painting.. So I finally did it, I ordered acrylic paints and paper and gave it a try. I do not have a style or method as of yet. But Im only a few days in and I think I love it.

The first thing I did was try to make a person, and realized that I didn’t want to try faces yet. So I made a faceless lady with flowers. The flowers are really the only thing I like about the whole thing. And I realized that I really like the textured look…

Lady With Flowers

Usually I start with the background and then throw some shapes on there. And then build onto that with different details etc. Its blotchy. Its messy. Its not all that great, to be honest. But I have to remind myself that of course I am not going to be amazing at it only a few days in. This is going to take time and practice. After realizing I really like the flowers in the above painting, I thought hmm, perhaps Ill try paining only flowers…

Roses, sorta.

I had to look up a “how to paint roses” tutorial on Youtube to figure this one out. However, as with all things, I grew impatient, again, and started painting. I put these on a water color background bc I figured they’d get lost in a bunch of acrylic on the page.. So, with the youtube video lady saying start in the middle and move outward in a circle I only half did what she said and tada! This mess of a painting is the result. I do like the textured look, as I have said, so I started just kinda piling the paint on until it eventually looked somewhat like roses.

I have more, but I will save your eyeballs by only exposing them to two travesties for now.

Anyhoo, this is what Ive been doing and wanted to share. BYEEEEEE….

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Reminiscent Sentiments

Its an odd thing, to look back at one’s life and take a long look at the people involved. Looking back and seeing how much you have changed when those you surrounded yourself with seemed to have stayed the same. After years of mental and emotional healing it seems that all the toxic individuals from your past are just as toxic as ever. As a matter of fact, for me, I’ve noticed that they are worse than they were before. I mean, they are Trump supporters for fuck’s sake.

They’re pretentious, self righteous ideology has only grown since I’ve seen them last. It’s been nine years this month. It doesn’t feel like its been that long. I guess a life less toxic passes by rather quickly. I’m no longer consumed with the theatrics of the apathetic, selfish characters that I begrudgingly endured for so many years. I’m quite pleased with the way things have turned out.

Every once in a while, I catch a faint glimpse of that past life through social media when some of said individuals let it slip through the cracks of their constructed online facade. I assume their makeshift personas are rather tedious to maintain considering the massive amount of discord they tend to sew in others. They must be, because every now and then one will let their usual “selves” slip through. With a judgment here, or a temper tantrum there, etc.

In most recent events, I suspect that I have been a topic of contention for quite some time. One particular individual over reacted online and went into a tirade about how I supposedly feel or haven’t shown or what-have-you. It was so seemingly out of nowhere. But it couldn’t have been. It had to have been building over time, because it took a itty bitty thing to set them off. A simple vague post on Facebook and boom! I’m a terrible person who’s done them wrong. They’ve made me the villain of their story probably. That’s okay, I’ll make a fabulous villain.

At the same time as this over reaction. I reiterate, an over reaction. At the same time another individual let it be known that they were also angry with me by cutting online ties. I find it to be quite amusing considering they have no leg to stand on, so to speak. No dog in the fight. At the very best, they contributed genetic material. Which is why I find this behavior so amusing, like they have a right to be upset when they didn’t contribute in any other way. Even when they were present, at most, they made things more difficult. I was saddled with all the responsibility as they frolicked. All the while blaming me and everyone else for their shortcomings.

It’s ludicrous that these individuals feel they have any right to be upset with the way things have turned out. With who my kid is. I say who my kid is because I’ve only ever let my kid be who they are. Instead of forcing some social norm or bigoted view points onto them, I have stepped out of the way and given them the room to navigate their own identities. Without bigotry. Without the hateful restrictions that certain individuals would impress upon them if given the opportunity.

I know that if they had their way, they would have indoctrinated my child with their bigoted, hateful rhetoric forcing said child to suppress their truth and live a tortured existence. While I would have been there to counteract such atrocities, it still would have taken its toll on their well being. And I cannot abide that. I will not. As to the accusations of making my child this way… fucking spare me.

You cannot make someone be another gender. You cannot make someone be a certain sexuality. They are who they are and that is that. If you truly are tormented by the fact that I let my kid live their lives without suppression, then I guess you just have to live with that discontent. Because they are who they are and you are wayyyyyy over there, thousands of miles away.

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A Life Undiagnosed

When I first started this blog, years ago, I was an angry person. Angry is an understatement, honestly. It seemed the whole world was against me. Everyone seemed to constantly try to push every last one of my buttons. I was convinced that people were misunderstanding and combative with me on purpose. My parents, siblings, friends, and partner. Everyone. Teachers, bosses, co-workers, peers, everyone. I felt like I was on an alien planet, that I didn’t belong anywhere. It was like there was an invisible barrier between me and the entire world. I never felt that there was anything different or wrong with me, in fact, I was sure that there was something wrong with everyone else.

My anger stemmed from difficulties in childhood. While being raised in a toxic family dynamic is probably the most significant, much of my difficulties were in interacting with other people. I found myself, often, in conflict with my peers and no idea how it started. So in my anger, while unable to find the words verbally, I would write them down in letters. Those letters put me in the school counsellors office sometimes. When asked by said counsellor why I wrote it all I could say was “to get the words out,” or “I was angry”. Because writing seemed to be the only way to really get my thoughts in order and let out any negative emotions I was feeling at the time. Ironically, as soon as I did write it and hand it over Id completely forget about it. So the visits to the office always caught me off guard. After a while I started just writing and keeping it at home, first in a notebook and eventually on a computer when I finally got one.

When I started this blog, it was for that purpose, to let that anger out. Mostly I vented and wrote long winded posts about whatever I was dealing with at the time. I learned throughout my life that I couldn’t talk to anyone, because whenever I did people would react poorly. If I ever tried to speak to someone, who often spoke to me about their problems, they would say that I was being selfish or negative. It was hypocritical af, really, because I was often the person that people vented to but whenever I had a problem they didn’t like it. I think most of that was because of my tone. They took it as an attack even when the topic wasn’t about them. Whenever I tried to relate to them by bringing up something I had been through that was similar I was called conceited or narcissistic. I couldn’t win, no matter what I did or said. So even though I wasn’t technically alone, I surely felt alone. Never lonely, just alone. My own company was all I ever really needed.

In my early twenties I started this blog. I vented, I went on tangents, very colourful ones. I was careful not to name any names, just venting about things I was going through. There were a lot of toxic individuals in my life and they had a tendency to try to find things to fight about. When they found my blog that became a topic of discussion of course, and I eventually lost interest in even writing. It was like no matter what I did, no matter the things I was having to endure from them, I was the problem. How dare I write the truth! I’m not even sure anyone read my blogs, it was a place to vent. I didn’t have any safe space in real life. I had no privacy. Nothing that belonged to me. Anytime I tried to get my own thing, someone would always invade it.

The first quarter of my life wasn’t my own. Every time I would try to do my own thing it would be trampled on. I was a doormat, a punching bag for everyone else. And I was such a bother, too, because I did speak up about it regularly, which never helped matters much. I think after years of being ridiculed or belittled or dismissed I eventually just lost interest in everyone and everything. I recall one particular instance of being unable to get up and go do a thing that I said I would do, and that person who was expecting me to do said thing for them kept calling me and telling me how I was making them feel bad because I wasn’t moving fast enough for their liking. It was a small moment, nothing really, compared to all the others. But it was a moment when I realized that I didn’t want to exist in that moment, in that life, anymore. It was that moment I had decided to leave. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to actually check out for good or if I wanted to make a change. So I walked that line for a long time…

It took me years after that to actually physically leave the place I was in, but building up to that I was making small changes, hardly even knowingly, but not always good ones. Relationships ended and new ones began and also ended… I went a little wild, on a destructive path. And then finally came to terms with the fact that the only way to fix anything was to get the eff out. So I moved away. I left all toxicity behind. All the people that literally made my life hell.

It wasn’t over though. I had a lot of trauma and my own toxicity to work through. So nine years and several diagnoses later, things are looking up. Its been a long and difficult road. Knowing now that I’m Autistic and looking back is an odd feeling. A lot of the things people gave me shit for were autistic traits. Its both a relief but also kinda shitty. I have wondered if I had known, would things be different. But the past is passed and there’s nothing to do about it now. All I can do is move forward. Letting things go is not one of my strong suits but I am working on it.

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A New Chapter: Finding Who I Would Have Been…

After a childhood of trauma and constant drama thereafter in most of my early adulthood, I have now had to spend years healing. After nearly a decade of slow healing, mental and emotional especially, I’m finding that I have no idea who the hell I am anymore.

I stumbled across a post on Facebook that seems to ring true for me. It states, not verbatim, that after a lifetime of constant trauma one doesn’t go back to who they used to be because they were simply surviving their entire lives so they have to find who they would have been had they not grown up in such chaos. It stings a little, if I’m honest. However, coming to the realization that I’m essentially starting from scratch at the very least gives me permission to try new things.

Yesterday, while sitting on my own outside I came to the realization that whatever hobbies or interests I used to have were essential to my survival. I recall writing as a form of release for incredible anger due to unresolved issues at home. It helped me find some semblance of control, during a time when I literally had none. I was not safe anywhere. Not at home. Not at school. Not anywhere. So my ramblings became my refuge. But now, after nearly a decade of freedom from toxicity, I’m finding myself with very little inclination to write. Not like I used to, anyway.

So where to begin? As a neurodivergent individual, I find it helpful to set a series of small goals rather than any large ones. Large goals tend to be overwhelming. I look at a thing (a room that needs to be cleaned or any project that needs to be done) and cannot see my way through it. So, taking small steps to the ultimate goal (clean room, art project, etc.) tends to make it easier to manage. But what to do when unsure of said goals? Breaking down steps helps when working on household chores, but would it even help with trying to figure out what I want to do with my free time? That remains to be seen.

I’m not fully healed, of course. I do not think I ever will be, but in fairness, are any of us? I think every single human on this planet has some kind of thing that they feel needs to be worked on. Especially with the pandemic making things difficult for everyone. My mental and physical health certainly took several hits in the past couple of years. I wish I had some tips and tricks for everyone as to how to work through it, but I barely did anything. I just sat there, stewing in my depression watching reruns and waited for it to pass. Now Im out of that very deep valley, and who knows, I may be back there again soon, but for now Im going to enjoy today. And maybe tomorrow.

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Im Vaccinated! Yay!

About a month ago or so, I finally got my text message saying that it was my turn to get the first Pfizer vaccine. Here in Iceland, basically when its our turn they let us know, and there are certain groups that are getting the shot first like the elderly and chronically ill etc. The months leading up to that text message, Ive been bombarded by posts of scaremongering about said vaccine. Anti vaxxers are losing their minds about it. Not only that, people who did receive the vaccine posting about how horrible it was, how sick they became, stuff like that. Ill admit its partly my fault that I kept paying attention to those posts… but it certainly didnt help my anxiety one bit. Anxiety sucks like that, you know you shouldn’t subject yourself to it but being so anxious tends to fuel the need to learn more about it. Its weird. Very often while going through an episode, I know how ridiculous I might be acting but I literally cannot do anything to stop it. My brother, who’s usually around for my anxiety and panic attacks, just kinda goes “yea it sucks,” or kinda laughs as I yell “THIS IS SO STUPID I HATE MY BRAIN!” Which is fine, hes super chill about it and really the only one that doesnt push my anxiety levels up by trying to help in a manner that actually never helps. All of that is beside the point. What was my point? Oh, right. I was so anxious about the vaccine by the time it was my turn I could barely function. I freaked when my phone alerted me that I had an appointment, so much, in fact, that by the time I actually got to the appointment I was exhausted.

My brother drove me to the appointment (he waited outside), which was at a gymnasium type place. The line was really long. So I had to walk a ways. I assumed that oh no, this is going to take forever, since the line was so long, but we were all ushered in rather quickly. We followed arrows on the floor into a room that had chairs lined up throughout. I sat somewhere in the middle. So we are all sat there, waiting, and a row of nurses with carts are standing at the front. Then someone yells “Áfram!” (which means forward! But I kept thinking of it as Onward! which was funnier.) And the nurses then move to give the first shot. Then they wait. And someone again yells “Onward!” and they move up one more and give a shot. This was funny enough to help me relax a little at least. So its my turn eventually, and the nurse asked if I was nervous, I said yes while thinking it was the understatement of the century. I didnt feel the shot at all. Then we had to sit there for ten to fifteen minutes, during which my anxiety was basically honing in on every tiny little thing I was feeling physically, expecting to react to the vaccine right then and there. Thanks a lot, Internet. But yea no, I was fine. On the way home I was retelling it to my bro in a very very dramatic way, with interludes of “Fuck anxiety…” followed by loud sighs before continuing.

The only side effect I had from the first shot was a really sore arm. I couldn’t sleep on it. And I think that soreness might have been worse than expected due to fibromyalgia. Anytime I hurt myself it tends to spread because of fibro and jump starts a flare up.

The thing about being chronically ill is that the side effects listed are basically things we already deal with on a regular basis. So often times its difficult to know if something is a side effect or just the illness. I also think that because I deal with said issues on a regular basis, the side effects were not that bad really because its something Im used to. So when the second shot came around (a few days ago) it also wasnt that bad. I noticed that I was more tired than the day before, and the headache that lasted all day wasnt that different from my usual headaches. I felt like you do when you know the flu is about to hit you, like the very beginning. You can feel that achyness and its like oh shit, I think Im getting sick. That is a regular thing when you’re chronically ill. So I couldn’t tell if it was side effects or fibro. And then it hit me, for someone who is not chronically ill, safe effects like that probably feel really really bad. Because its not their normal, so naturally they’ll react to it like it was horrible. And this is something that didnt occur to me when I was reading said posts that sent me into an anxiety spiral leading up to the first vaccine.

I came across a post some time ago that said something along the lines of when you’re chronically ill you forget that healthy people exist. Because you’ve been sick so long you cant even imagine what its like to just do things without having to think about whether or not it will make it impossible to do another thing later that day. Like okay,, yea, Im aware that healthy people exist, obviously, but the idea or the concept of being healthy is so alien now that its nearly impossible to imagine. Just writing this post is causing pain in my hands, wrists, shoulders, back and neck, which is giving me one hell of a headache.

So yea, the whole point is that the shot wasnt even that bad. The first one makes your arm sore, the second one makes you tired, gives a headache, the arm sore again but not as much as the first time. Other side effects are fever, nausea, general feeling icky for a day. So if you are not allergic, getting the shot is not a big deal at all. Dont fall for the scare mongering you see online about the vaccines. Protect yourself and your loved ones by getting vaccinated.

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