Fuuuck. I made it through 48 levels of the Cave of Ordeals, and then got fucked in the eyesocket by three pissed-off beefcakes in armor in the last room. They beat my ass so hard my poop will probably come out sniveling for a month.
I guess I'm glad it wasn't a puny enemy getting off a lucky shot from my blind side, because I honestly think I would have shot myself.
This game has been consuming my brains for the past week. My daily schedule currently consists of Twilight Princess, plus occasional breaks from the game in which I sleep, brush my teeth and fart around with house chores and errands. I guess I just need the recharge.
In other news, I believe the meds are kicking in. I was looking up at the stars on my walk with the Captain tonight, and I got to thinking about the spinning of the planet and the way we just sort of cling to its surface and magically don't fly off. For the first time since I was five years old, contemplating the fact that we spend our lives clinging to a spinning ball of rock and politics as it hurtles through space at holyfuck MPH didn't give me a panic attack. In fact I had a hard time feeling anxious about it at all.
I actually felt a little awed, and that was just plain strange. Usually if I make the mistake of thinking about this stuff when I'm outside at night, I never get to the awe stage because I start shaking and have to go back indoors until the vertigo goes away. So yay me, and also yay the stars.
I'm thinking about going back to LiveJournal. I've fallen out of touch with a whole bunch of people I used to talk to all the time when I was on LJ. Lots of folks never made the jump to Blogger or the local feed account. Dunno what will happen to this site if I do go back, but frankly I'm getting lonely. Hmm.
Showing posts with label psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psychology. Show all posts
January 2, 2009
September 15, 2008
I know something you don't know :P
What's the point of seeking me out and messaging me if all you have to say is that something major is going on with you, buuuuut since you don't think I would be sufficiently comforting, you've decided to tell someone else about it instead of me?
Sorry I wasn't around to get all intrigued and chase you down and force you to share every sordid detail, but thank you for having a major relationship discussion with my away message. It's not all that important to actually have me present for this kind of conversation anyway, since (as you said) you already know what I'm going to say and feel and are punishing me accordingly.
It's like conflict resolution, only without all the icky communication.
Sorry I wasn't around to get all intrigued and chase you down and force you to share every sordid detail, but thank you for having a major relationship discussion with my away message. It's not all that important to actually have me present for this kind of conversation anyway, since (as you said) you already know what I'm going to say and feel and are punishing me accordingly.
It's like conflict resolution, only without all the icky communication.
August 25, 2008
Don't Go Telling Grandma Zombie How To Suck Brains
Well, even though I was diagnosed a week ago, I feel that I only truly joined the ranks of the ADHD zombies last night.
Last night, you see, marks the first time I was told, (and I quote), "pfft you dont need meds for that" by somebody who barely knows me or my situation. From what I've heard from other people with this diagnosis, that's how you know you have arrived.
This person then went on to describe how it "takes a lot of work" to transcend pain and illness, but they can do it just fine, even though their case is beyond severe. They went on to inform me that psychiatry is a lie, 100% of people alive today have ADHD, and that it's better to repress unpleasantness than deal with it, because as long as you're okay with being different, no amount of mental illness can overcome willpower. And even if it does, so what? I'm cuh-RAY-zee, deal with it you jerks! ^___^
Yeah, I think I'll stick with the licensed therapist and whatever pills my doctor thinks may be effective as a last resort. Which is what it is--you think I didn't spent my entire life trying to FORCE me to be okay so I wouldn't have to take drugs? I struggled as hard as I could for my entire life just to make it up to mediocre on my own. But just because I was expending energy didn't mean that iron wall was any closer to breaking. I avoided despair by lying to myself for a long time about how I was getting closer. Every little improvement was a breakthrough. Any minute now, I told myself, any second I'll start seeing cracks. Just a little harder.
It's tough to give up on an investment like that, and admit you've failed. Not only that you've failed, but that you actually wasted all that time on something unwinnable. Your 400-hour game of Pitfall for the Atari is never going to end with credits. QQ noob; the battle is over and you fucking lost.
It's fucking terrible to slump down and say "I quit" because you just can't make yourself push anymore. And if, in your time of acceptance, some Mary Sue success story happens to come skipping along to give you shit for not being strong enough, you're not going to be happy with that.
I don't think the person intended to hit this button in me, but that's what you risk when you pass judgment on the circumstances of somebody you don't know and start laughing off their problems because how your issues are ten billion times worse, but all it takes for you is some willpower and hard work. (Poof, problem gone, now why didn't I think of that?)
Over the course of the argument that ensued, it came out a bit at a time just how badly messed up this person's outlook was. Without getting into details, let me just say that they reminded me of me, only a version of me that was in love with myself and didn't much care about anyone else. A version of me that actively wanted to get worse. I tried to urge them to get help, but it was like arguing with a magic 8 ball. There was an excuse or sob story for every option, and where those didn't cut it, the person fell back on the old "yay crazy wacky monkey pie doom" mental illness trendiness as a defense mechanism.
People in denial have this horrible tendency, when their treasured assault against reality falls short and they have nothing left, to pretend to "own" their damage before you can call them on it. Smokers and drug addicts do this a lot, most noticeably when they brag about how they'll die young. They can't handle the reality, so they turn it into a joke that they can confront without actually confronting it.
My mom used to do it. She'd threaten suicide when she was criticized or throw a huge self-hate party and talk about how worthless she was. You couldn't argue with her because she'd just hand you her dignity right off the bat, and I never got the feeling that anything she handled that way ever truly got resolved. It was emotional camoflage by way of exaggeration, surrender and caricature. Is there a word for this kind of cop-out?
Anyway, I don't mind when people tell me about their problems. I honestly enjoy helping people troubleshoot their problems and be happier. But if you plan to throw my advice away without considering it or would just prefer me to function as an audience for your very own Greek tragedy (with you as the star, of course), please let me know in advance so I won't embarrass both of us by trying to actually help.
In the end I felt kind of sad for blowing up over the initial "pfft, you dont need meds for that" comment. If I'd known from the start why they were so fixated on the power of positive thinking, I wouldn't have hassled the person. They weren't ready for honest self-examination and now I feel like a bully for trying to make them see something they're trying hard NOT to see. You know what I mean?
But wouldn't it be so rad and awesome if it were so easy to overcome shit as that? If you could just bury your anger and not have it come back to bite you on your ass... if you could blame everything on your shitty childhood and not have to pay for it... if you could wish yourself well just by wanting it bad enough. Goddamn, I want THAT illness.
At the end of the day I really do love this world. We humans are all so quirky and lovable and flawed. We're nowhere near as unique as we think we are, but even our clichés deserve affection for being so damn human. I want to give us all a huge hug sometimes for just being what we are.
Coming from the codependent background of my youth, though, I also find it hard at other times to stop myself from grabbing fucked up people to just shake the stupid out of them. I sometimes lack empathy and patience for human weakness in myself or others. And then I turn around and lambast others for being heartless. It's crazy, but at least I'm aware of the tendency and can fight it.
Every year I spend on this planet takes me closer to finally being able to love what I am--human and weak and flawed--because it is human and weak and flawed. In the long run, I reckon the only solution will be to just accept the negative shit and move on. So maybe the person was right about transcending pain, albeit in an entirely different context from the one they intended.
Therapy appointment tomorrow. I wonder what exciting new headmeat disorders we'll discover this time!
Last night, you see, marks the first time I was told, (and I quote), "pfft you dont need meds for that" by somebody who barely knows me or my situation. From what I've heard from other people with this diagnosis, that's how you know you have arrived.
This person then went on to describe how it "takes a lot of work" to transcend pain and illness, but they can do it just fine, even though their case is beyond severe. They went on to inform me that psychiatry is a lie, 100% of people alive today have ADHD, and that it's better to repress unpleasantness than deal with it, because as long as you're okay with being different, no amount of mental illness can overcome willpower. And even if it does, so what? I'm cuh-RAY-zee, deal with it you jerks! ^___^
Yeah, I think I'll stick with the licensed therapist and whatever pills my doctor thinks may be effective as a last resort. Which is what it is--you think I didn't spent my entire life trying to FORCE me to be okay so I wouldn't have to take drugs? I struggled as hard as I could for my entire life just to make it up to mediocre on my own. But just because I was expending energy didn't mean that iron wall was any closer to breaking. I avoided despair by lying to myself for a long time about how I was getting closer. Every little improvement was a breakthrough. Any minute now, I told myself, any second I'll start seeing cracks. Just a little harder.
It's tough to give up on an investment like that, and admit you've failed. Not only that you've failed, but that you actually wasted all that time on something unwinnable. Your 400-hour game of Pitfall for the Atari is never going to end with credits. QQ noob; the battle is over and you fucking lost.
It's fucking terrible to slump down and say "I quit" because you just can't make yourself push anymore. And if, in your time of acceptance, some Mary Sue success story happens to come skipping along to give you shit for not being strong enough, you're not going to be happy with that.
I don't think the person intended to hit this button in me, but that's what you risk when you pass judgment on the circumstances of somebody you don't know and start laughing off their problems because how your issues are ten billion times worse, but all it takes for you is some willpower and hard work. (Poof, problem gone, now why didn't I think of that?)
Over the course of the argument that ensued, it came out a bit at a time just how badly messed up this person's outlook was. Without getting into details, let me just say that they reminded me of me, only a version of me that was in love with myself and didn't much care about anyone else. A version of me that actively wanted to get worse. I tried to urge them to get help, but it was like arguing with a magic 8 ball. There was an excuse or sob story for every option, and where those didn't cut it, the person fell back on the old "yay crazy wacky monkey pie doom" mental illness trendiness as a defense mechanism.
People in denial have this horrible tendency, when their treasured assault against reality falls short and they have nothing left, to pretend to "own" their damage before you can call them on it. Smokers and drug addicts do this a lot, most noticeably when they brag about how they'll die young. They can't handle the reality, so they turn it into a joke that they can confront without actually confronting it.
My mom used to do it. She'd threaten suicide when she was criticized or throw a huge self-hate party and talk about how worthless she was. You couldn't argue with her because she'd just hand you her dignity right off the bat, and I never got the feeling that anything she handled that way ever truly got resolved. It was emotional camoflage by way of exaggeration, surrender and caricature. Is there a word for this kind of cop-out?
Anyway, I don't mind when people tell me about their problems. I honestly enjoy helping people troubleshoot their problems and be happier. But if you plan to throw my advice away without considering it or would just prefer me to function as an audience for your very own Greek tragedy (with you as the star, of course), please let me know in advance so I won't embarrass both of us by trying to actually help.
In the end I felt kind of sad for blowing up over the initial "pfft, you dont need meds for that" comment. If I'd known from the start why they were so fixated on the power of positive thinking, I wouldn't have hassled the person. They weren't ready for honest self-examination and now I feel like a bully for trying to make them see something they're trying hard NOT to see. You know what I mean?
But wouldn't it be so rad and awesome if it were so easy to overcome shit as that? If you could just bury your anger and not have it come back to bite you on your ass... if you could blame everything on your shitty childhood and not have to pay for it... if you could wish yourself well just by wanting it bad enough. Goddamn, I want THAT illness.
At the end of the day I really do love this world. We humans are all so quirky and lovable and flawed. We're nowhere near as unique as we think we are, but even our clichés deserve affection for being so damn human. I want to give us all a huge hug sometimes for just being what we are.
Coming from the codependent background of my youth, though, I also find it hard at other times to stop myself from grabbing fucked up people to just shake the stupid out of them. I sometimes lack empathy and patience for human weakness in myself or others. And then I turn around and lambast others for being heartless. It's crazy, but at least I'm aware of the tendency and can fight it.
Every year I spend on this planet takes me closer to finally being able to love what I am--human and weak and flawed--because it is human and weak and flawed. In the long run, I reckon the only solution will be to just accept the negative shit and move on. So maybe the person was right about transcending pain, albeit in an entirely different context from the one they intended.
Therapy appointment tomorrow. I wonder what exciting new headmeat disorders we'll discover this time!
August 23, 2008
LUKA IS STILL A PLAGUE DOG
So, my therapist finished the first of the diagnostic tests the other day. It turns out that I have "moderately severe" ADHD. I had kind of figured out the ADD part, but the H was news to me. It does explain some things, such as why I'm such an unbearable spazz (losing things, getting unbearably twitchy and always being at the center of a giant tornado of fail) despite always trying so hard not to be like that.
Dr. D asked if I was okay with my diagnosis and I was like "yeah, it's good to know where some of this is coming from." She said we'll know more as we continue the evaluations, which I find very helpful.
It's strange to catch myself doing the usual "I suck" internal monologue whenever I do something embarrassing or twitchy, and suddenly have an explanation that makes me not feel like such a schmuck. I will want to watch this so that I don't start excusing every little mistake on my diagnosis, but it is such an incredible relief to know for sure that it's not just me being stupid and lazy. I have to start cutting myself a little bit more slack, and that's pretty novel for me.
A lot of times, most notably in high-pressure situations, I get through life despite having a fucked up transmission. I can't slip into that comfortable second or third gear that lets me go along at a steady 15-30 miles an hour, so instead I just floor it in first until the engine is screaming. I overheat the car until I'm finally able to jump straight into 4th, thus bypassing the faulty gears. It's not healthy to make the car work that hard to do something that should be easy.
The panic grows as I watch the engine lights go on one by one, until I have to pull over and let it all cool down. This leads to an alarming pattern of geronimo charges and dead stops, and then I wonder why I can't seem to get into the rhythm of life. Ha! WELL I AM DIAGNOSED NOW SO I GUESS I CAN'T HATE MYSELF FOR IT ANYMORE.
Yesterday I sent in an application and all the info I need to apply for Minnesota Health Care, and if I qualify I should get reduced shrink fees and copays for whatever medication I go on. Things are already improving a bit from how they've been recently, as my physical improvement continues and answers continue to appear.
I've hit some kind of weird stumbling block with my sleep schedule this summer, which really bothers me. Instead of sleeping exactly 8 hours and waking up refreshed, I'm now sleeping 12 or more hours and waking up groggy and tired. Goddamn body thetans, is what I think it is.
So basically what it all boils down to is that the comic is late again because I have ADHD.
(GYA HA HA THE FIRST ILLEGITIMATE USE OF MY NEW DIAGNOSIS TO GET ME OUT OF MY RESPONSIBILITIES!)
But really, come to think of it, now that I know I have it, I'm wondering how the fuck I ever got a webcomic off the ground in the first place, let alone kept it going for almost 8 years and counting.
Dr. D asked if I was okay with my diagnosis and I was like "yeah, it's good to know where some of this is coming from." She said we'll know more as we continue the evaluations, which I find very helpful.
It's strange to catch myself doing the usual "I suck" internal monologue whenever I do something embarrassing or twitchy, and suddenly have an explanation that makes me not feel like such a schmuck. I will want to watch this so that I don't start excusing every little mistake on my diagnosis, but it is such an incredible relief to know for sure that it's not just me being stupid and lazy. I have to start cutting myself a little bit more slack, and that's pretty novel for me.
A lot of times, most notably in high-pressure situations, I get through life despite having a fucked up transmission. I can't slip into that comfortable second or third gear that lets me go along at a steady 15-30 miles an hour, so instead I just floor it in first until the engine is screaming. I overheat the car until I'm finally able to jump straight into 4th, thus bypassing the faulty gears. It's not healthy to make the car work that hard to do something that should be easy.
The panic grows as I watch the engine lights go on one by one, until I have to pull over and let it all cool down. This leads to an alarming pattern of geronimo charges and dead stops, and then I wonder why I can't seem to get into the rhythm of life. Ha! WELL I AM DIAGNOSED NOW SO I GUESS I CAN'T HATE MYSELF FOR IT ANYMORE.
Yesterday I sent in an application and all the info I need to apply for Minnesota Health Care, and if I qualify I should get reduced shrink fees and copays for whatever medication I go on. Things are already improving a bit from how they've been recently, as my physical improvement continues and answers continue to appear.
I've hit some kind of weird stumbling block with my sleep schedule this summer, which really bothers me. Instead of sleeping exactly 8 hours and waking up refreshed, I'm now sleeping 12 or more hours and waking up groggy and tired. Goddamn body thetans, is what I think it is.
So basically what it all boils down to is that the comic is late again because I have ADHD.
(GYA HA HA THE FIRST ILLEGITIMATE USE OF MY NEW DIAGNOSIS TO GET ME OUT OF MY RESPONSIBILITIES!)
But really, come to think of it, now that I know I have it, I'm wondering how the fuck I ever got a webcomic off the ground in the first place, let alone kept it going for almost 8 years and counting.
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