Well…

And here we are again, unemployed, with another failure under our belt. I think it’s safe to say that – IF I am going to be able to keep any sort of job, or move forward in any way, it is going to take a lot of work.

I don’t want to say that I’ve given up, because I don’t think I have, but… OK, let me tell you what happened first. I did get accepted into college for Graphic Design, like I had mentioned in the last two posts. However, it wasn’t long before I started finding it very overwhelming and difficult to keep up, to the point where apathy was slowly creeping in. I stopped caring, and wasn’t sure how I was going to muster the motivation to make it to the end of what was already a shortened program (roughly 6 months). In my defence, there was A LOT packed in to that 6 months – I believe by the end it would have been 12 courses all together.

Any way… There was a strike. If you live in Canada (or maybe just Ontario?), you know ALL about it. The strike went on for over a month! This happened right when I was beginning to lose faith, and interest. Long story short – the break sort of cemented my internal, quiet, semi-in-denial decision not to continue with the program. Any tiny bit of momentum I had left, I lost within the first two weeks of the strike, and I cannot tell you how relieved I was when they announced after the strike ended that students could apply to withdraw with a full refund of their tuition. Normally, at this point in the semester, I would not have been able to withdraw and get my money back. It’s almost as if whatever powers that be knew that this was just not happening for me, and decided to give me a bit of a break, and allow me to sort of undo a bit of the damage that would have been done should I have not made it through the program.

OK, so now that I’m 28 years old and have a diploma, but very little work experience of any value (in terms of duration at any one company), I have now had to really face what may just be a reality for me – I may not be able to work. At least, not in any traditional manner. I mean, everyone sort of knew this already, but I, especially, did not want to believe it. I wanted to just get my SHIT together, and go and be normal. Get a job, make friends, impress the boss, have benefits, and a steady paycheque. Now, the sort of life I have always wanted (to be my own boss, make my own hours), may be the only viable option for me – but my confidence is nearly non-existent, and I have NO idea anymore what I would want to do. Everything just seems impossible now. A pipe dream.

(You should totally watch this show)

I’ve flirted with the idea of starting a YouTube channel and seeing where that goes, but I’m sort of terrified of being on camera. Plus, what would it be about? It’s hard to have a successful YouTube channel if it doesn’t have a focus.

I’ve thought about selling my watercolour paintings. Practicing and getting better, until I can produce larger paintings, and maybe even sell the originals, plus prints.

I’ve thought about doing editing – proofreading, essentially. But I have no idea where to start, and again, that does require some level of reliability. I’m just not sure anymore that I can be at all reliable.

So, here we are… Thankfully, the stars seem to be aligning in some regard – because I have a good gynaecologist looking after me (I have some hormonal imbalance going on that is causing me not to ovulate and to over-produce the lining of my womb, and not shed it properly every month, which could eventually lead to cancer – hooray!), and the medical team that my family doctor is part of just had a certified psycho-therapist join the team once a week (and they are covered by OHIP!), so I should be able to see them to talk about… well, my very deep deep hatred for myself. I know, I know… hatred it a strong word, but don’t freak out! I’m not about to kill myself or anything, even if the idea of disappearing into an abyss is, at times, very inviting. But I believe the many many years with PMDD – the cycling from being normal for one or two weeks a month, to completely and utterly useless for two weeks of the month, has worn on my self-esteem in profound ways that may take a long time to untangle. I didn’t even know that I had PMDD until a couple of years ago – and while it helps to know, in a way, I haven’t had a tonne of success in treating it.

And so continues the “journey” to… what? Self-acceptance? Success? I have no idea anymore what to work towards, because I don’t know if my PMDD will continue to get worse as it has since I turned 25. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep a job, or keep anything going for any significant length of time. I don’t know if one day my PMDD will just become so bad that I turn to surgery in a desperate attempt to escape this horrible, vicious cycle – or if that will even help. Hello surgical menopause in your thirties! Woop! Woop!

Symptoms of PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder):

• Severe depression/feelings of hopelessness/apathy
• Inability to focus/persistent brain fog
• FATIGUE – this is a big one and cannot be stressed enough

Ok, I have to pause here to really illustrate this as best I can. I have lived a life without PMDD – it happened before I got my period, and even within the first years where it wasn’t as severe. So I know what it’s like to be “normal tired”. PMDD tired is BRUTAL. I literally lose days every cycle, both around ovulation and during the two weeks leading up to my period SLEEPING all day. Back when I was working full-time, and did not know yet that I had PMDD, I would have to miss a day or several days every month due to this. If I forced myself to go to work on one of the days where my body would be screaming for sleep and rest, I would spend the entire morning – until noon or later, just trying to wake up. I couldn’t stay on task, I could barely keep my head up off my desk. I would go through cups of coffee and still, nothing. By the end of the day, I would have accomplished very little. I would go home, feeling like I was crawling the entire way, desperate for bed, and I would GO TO BED. As soon as I got home. And because at this point I lived alone, this meant I didn’t eat anything that night. This would happen over and over again – EVERY MONTH. Eventually leading to burn-out, as is to be expected, I would imagine, when you’re barely eating because it takes every ounce of energy you have just to make it TO WORK, let alone be productive at work during those two weeks of PMDD hell. By the 6 month mark, when I would inevitably either lose my job or quit, it would be a WELCOME BREAK, because I would be beyond exhausted. I get that some people may think – that’s just life, but NO. I can barely function during this time. It would be like a normal person getting a horrible stomach flu every month for two weeks, with a fever and everything, plus crippling fatigue, and trying to keep up at work. Sure, if it happens once or twice a year, not as big a deal, but EVERY. FUCKING. MONTH. It adds up, and eventually your body literally gives out. 

Okay, back to the list…

• Withdrawal (during PMDD, I barely want to be seen or heard, I want to hide, it’s akin to becoming temporarily agoraphobic)
• Anxiety/paranoia
• Changes in appetite low/high/cravings
• Disrupted sleep patterns

That’s it, for the most part. For some with PMDD, this list looks a little different, but this is how MY PMDD works. It’s a perfect recipe for FUCK YOU. Seriously, it is no wonder I have not had any success in getting any sort of ball rolling when every month I lose momentum in such a monumentally severe way. I literally become a different person. No longer outgoing, no interest in doing pretty much anything, lethargic all the time, low appetite OR intense cravings, crippling anxiety, and absolutely zero ability to focus on anything.

I guess we will just have to see what the future holds for me, because right now, I literally have no clue anymore. I can’t even make plans – I can’t even hope right now. It feels dangerous to plan, or even ponder. So here’s to going in to another new year with zero plans – other than maybe trying to fail again at another part-time job, and to start therapy. OH, and to hopefully not get cancer of the womb 🙂

My PMDD every month… 

 

I’m the Nut-bar: Ergophobia, and an Update

Well, Christmas is upon us again and I’m back to being myself. Which is to say, certifiably insane.

I do a good job of hiding it, I’ve come to realize. Which maybe isn’t helping me much. I should be seeing a therapist weekly, but I don’t have the money, and I can’t really outwardly prove how much I need it.

So, buckle up. Here comes the “rant”. I’m going to pick at my scabs and re-open the self-inflicted wounds that is my work history. Where to begin?!

Replace dumped with fired, and I think this is probably a good place to begin.

What seems like many a moon ago, I had a part-time job at Pet Valu. The fact that I could barely deliver on that job should probably have been a clue, but hey. I digress… So, we’re coming up on Christmas, and I’m having trouble getting to work on time most shifts, but once there, I’m engaged and doing my job well, maybe even making a friend or two. Of course, the manager cares less about that and more about my lack of punctuality. Something I am realizing is one of the symptoms of my Ergophobia, or, Social Anxiety (Ergophobia is the fear of work, which is of course rooted in social anxiety).

Think about people who are purposely late to dates, or who don’t text back or are very noncommittal in relationships. They often do this as a means of beating you to the rejection. Just apply this to work, and voila! You’ve got a recipe for a life of failure. 

This might explain why I am often jealous of those people. They often have no problems keeping jobs, but relationships? Phew. Still, at the end of the day, a job allows you to support yourself, a relationship, does not. I’d rather have relationship phobia, at this point.

Any way, I have gone WAY off track. So, at Pet Valu, we get a new part-timer. I’m told that this young lady is here just for seasonal help over the Christmas holiday. However, my spidey-senses are tingling. Sure enough, she hits it off with all of the staff, and, unlike yours truly, is rarely late.

In an attempt to stay professional while simultaneously calming my own nerves, I approach the manager to ask if I can still expect to have the same hours after the Christmas holidays, she assures me that yes, all is well and I will not lose any hours come the New Year.

Let’s fast-forward to the New Year. I head off to my first shift. I think it was January 2nd, or something like that. It’s Monday morning, I believe. I go in, ready to work, and immediately get called to speak to the manager in her little makeshift office in the back of the store. I’m sure you know what’s coming next… I get fired. I’m pretty devastated. I know, I know, I can hear you A-types and well adjusted folks saying – well it’s your own damn fault for being perpetually late! Yes, well that may be, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it?

Regardless of the reasons, I was assured that all was well and that I was not about to lose my job. Instead, I found myself feeling a lot like that tree, only, with bills and shit to pay. Jobless, rejected, abandoned. The rug pulled right out from under me, after being told that it wasn’t going to happen, and right after Christmas.

Now, I’ll save you from further torture and skip the other sob story of losing my first “real” job a few years ago in a very similar fashion (being told all was well and then coming in one day, only to be called to speak to HR or the supervisor and sacked). The result of these many different job failures has essentially been workplace PTSD. I have been working two days a week (already missed two days), for the past three weeks. THREE WEEKS ONLY – and already I have had a major panic attack. Oh, and I won’t bother going over how I lost the last full-time job I had, roughly a year ago now. Suffice it to say, it was in a very similar “rug out from under you” fashion. Only this time, I HAD NOT BEEN LATE ONCE. Assholes.

./÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ bn

Whoops, sorry. That was my cat. Moving on.

Maybe I will find a way to make a living based on my plethora of mental illness. You know, become a female comedian or something, like Maria Bamford. I’ve thought about that, but, hilariously enough, successful comedians are typically successful because of their OCD and work-alcholism. They are usually anxious in the opposite direction – meaning, they are ALWAYS early, hate being late, and spend more time being productive jut out of an anxiety-driven need to always being doing something. Of course, these people are also exceptional in some way, and beloved by many.

So we rule that one out!

Of course, it doesn’t help that I grew up surrounded by well-adjusted pillars of strength and integrity. I think I am deathly afraid of disappointing my parents or ever seeming ungrateful in any way that I freeze, finding it difficult to move in any direction due to all the perceived opportunities to, well, fuck up.

Me.

It’s funny, because I’m not necessarily a shy person, or even an introverted one. I may have social anxiety, but I have no trouble being in large groups, or even speaking in front of a bunch of people. I have a decent grasp of common sense, and I’m insightful and fairly intellectual as well. I have good manners, and know how to conduct myself in public. I just get extremely anxious committing to a job, and subsequently, being trapped there when I find myself wanting to blow the place up because, the clock is ticking, everyone is working like little minions at their desks, and HOW IS THIS LIFE?!?!?

Phew. Sorry, almost let crazy pants out of her little closet there.

UPDATE TIME

So, I’m finally doing it. I’m going back to school. I’m going to go back to College, not University (because, let’s be real, I’m no academic). This time, it’s for Graphic Design.

I had seriously considered full-blown University for Humanities, because, Philosophy and all of that awesome stuff. However, the commitment involved is, frankly, immense. I don’t believe I have it in me.

So, with taking Graphic Design instead, I hope to find my tribe and meet other like-minded, creative weirdoes and do something like creative brand consulting, web design or something of that ilk. Something where, hopefully, I can work from home, or at least feel like I am in more control of my level of success or failure. Basically, I can’t fire myself… Yes, I can fail, but at least I will see it coming. I hope.

It is worth a try. I think the first test will be seeing if I can handle having a commitment to go to almost every day. That will be hurdle number one. I guess after that we’ll have to see whether it will be more medication trials, therapy, or both.

However, in the mean time…

I’ll be being crazy.

Nerdview: Alto’s Adventure

Goodday Everyone,

Today I would like to share with you my latest, most favourite, super-relaxing before-bed ritual – playing Alto’s Adventure.

This Apple app-store game, while simple, is beautifully done and very relaxing to play. It isn’t extremely challenging or complicated, but it is fun never-the-less. Alto’s almost minimalistic style, calm-cool watercolour backgrounds, and soothing music work wonders to get me ready for sleep.

 

Playing Alto’s Adventure is also a great way to recharge during breaks in your day. You know – when you realize you’ve been hunched over your keyboard for the past five hours writing and re-writing, editing the s**t out of a design (only on the 16th save file!), or trying to perfect that recipe, and have begun to go cross-eyed – I find that Alto is a great way to focus on one simple, perfect thing for 10 or 15 minutes to clear your head.

Let’s talk about the gameplay. This is pretty straight-forward, you start at the top of a massive ski-hill in a side-scroller-style view. Your controls are easy, you click or tap to jump, and hold in mid-air to do a back flip. You can chain together tricks by jumping on to grinds, back-flipping or jumping off of them, and so on. It’s really not complicated. This, I think, is one of the best parts of the game. It’s simple, and fun – and that’s really all it needs to be.

As you progress through the game, you are given three simple “quests” at a time to complete in order to level up. This might be as simple as collecting so many coins, jumping over a rock three times in one run, or landing a couple double-backflips. Levelling up allows you to unlock other characters, that seem to all have unique skills.

Check out Izel, that crazy adrenaline junkie gadget-maker!

The music in the game – of which I refer to as “soothing-yet-sparkly”, is one of my favourite parts of the game. It is the perfect backdrop to being on this smooth, simplistic ski-hill, and honestly never gets boring despite being on a loop.

Here’s a sample of both the music and game-play:

 

And just in case you needed any more incentive to go get this awesome game, it’s only $2.99 on the Apple App Store. As an added bonus, they are working right now to bring the game to Android devices as well, so keep your eyes peeled for that if you don’t have an Apple device to play it on.

I personally play it on the Apple TV, but I’m sure it is a great game to play on your iPhone or iPad/tablet. I imagine, though, that the experience is a little different depending on the device you use. Playing it in bed on the Apple TV really allows for an immersive, relaxing experience, so if you’re interested in the game for the purpose of relaxation/meditation – because believe it or not, playing Alto’s Adventure can be a good time to work in some simple breathing meditation – than I would definitely suggest getting it for the Apple TV.

That’s it for today. Take care, everyone!

Validation, Vindication & Awareness

The learning continues…

Today I want to talk more about my findings regarding the implications of adoption and trauma on the developing child, especially in regard to the adoptees tendency to disregard their importance, or to not feel valid.

This may go unnoticed as an issue by others. Oftentimes it is registered by others as a sense of callousness on the part of the adoptee. Ignorance as well, and rightly so. However, when dealing with an adoptee, especially when teaching them, it is very important to point these things out as what they are.

What they are, for an adoptee, is not ignorance or callousness so much so as a very deep-seated sense that they don’t matter. What I am beginning to understand about this is that this seemingly natural, or “default setting” is due to the fact that an adoptees very first experience in the world was of immediate separation from mother, of (oftentimes – although I am unsure in my own case) crying for the mother to no avail. This very first learning experience taught the brain that they have no affect.

You may be wondering, then, why I titled this post “Validation, Vindication and Awareness”. Well, as well as sharing what I am learning by reading “Coming Home to Self: The Adopted Child Grows Up” by Nancy Verrier (see this post for the first in this “series”), I am also trying to share my experience of it. At times there is an overwhelming sense of anxiety in learning about the real affects of that initial separation. It is registered by the brain as trauma. However, in learning about this, and connecting the dots, it has brought so much validation to my own confusion about how I have behaved and felt my entire life.

The vindication comes in the form of Nancy, the author of the book, who eventually speaks directly to the adoptee (or reader), stating that it is okay, that you have indeed been misunderstood, and that she is there to help fight for you. Even today, despite all of the research, the importance of the initial bonding between natural mother and child is downplayed to a frightening degree (even in families where the child is not put up for adoption – i.e. a mother who returns to work immediately after birth). This is why the process of adoption is never thought of as a traumatic experience. There are many many other reasons, many of them political, emotional and otherwise, but oftentimes adoptees issues go unnoticed and the vindication is just not there that something is wrong that has nothing to do with who they are.

So, unlike in the case of someone who has been diagnosed with depression, bi-polar disorder, or as agoraphobic (although those people still face a lot of doubt and ridicule from others), adoptees issues go without name. Sure, there may be suspicions, sometimes people who are not very aware of or sensitive to the gravity of emotions involved in the adoption triad may ask upon learning about it “does it bother you?” (this question is most often directed at the adoptee, but can also be directed at the other two members of the triad), or, “do you know anything about the real mom?”.

Meanwhile, aside from those often inappropriate but clearly uneducated questions, the question of “have you researched the affects of adoption on development and mental health?” (which is the the question I believe should be asked to every single person in the adoption triad before the process even begins) goes unasked. If that is not possible, then it certainly should be asked of the adoptee once they are old enough to understand the material, especially if confusing issues arise.

This brings to me awareness. Along with the help of my psychologist, I am beginning to understand what parts of my development have been natural, and which stages, or rather, reactions to those stages, have been a little off kilter. For example, while it is known that all teenagers become quite unruly, the idea that ALL teenagers do to an extreme degree is a myth. Not all teenagers, as soon as puberty hits, immediately pulls away from their parents. It is the lack of mirroring during this stage of life that can really cause an adoptee teen to reject their adoptive family.

This is helping me to detach myself from those behaviours, and to start seeing that a lot of the developmental issues that arose during my growth were not ME, but the trauma. This awareness will be extremely helpful in starting to separate dysfunction from self. This could also help strengthen the bonds between adoptee and adoptive parents, as it sheds light on some of the hurtful behaviours that may have been exhibited in the earlier parts of life. In this way it is understood that it wasn’t the adoptee, nor the adoptive parents, it was simply behaviour as a means of communicating the unresolved loss and trauma inside.

All very serious stuff. I have tried to pepper in some humour, as humour, I find, can help in the learning process. It’s not just a great way to bring levity to an uncomfortable moment or topic 😉  Learning should be fun.

That is all for today. There is still a lot to learn, and nothing will change overnight. Things like bad drivers, inconsiderate people and ignorance will continue to annoy and disappoint us. For now, though…