Tag Archives: depression

Misunderstood, but Not Alone

Posted on by under Personal

I’ve been feeling really “messed up” lately. Those feelings of not being good enough, of saying and doing the wrong things, of absorbing the negative feelings of the people around me, of being misunderstood. That last one has been especially frustrating.

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I’m trying online counseling.  I only started a few weeks ago, and I’m not sure how it’s going.  She sent me a ton of worksheets about unhealthy thought patterns, which of course caused my brain to over-think and over-analyze and be overly-defensive of itself.  The topic that has been most frustrating has been the encouragement to try online dating again.  After acknowledging that I may be traumatized by past experiences, she added, “Suppose your front door hit your hand, and caused a lot of pain; will you refuse to go through it again?”

Yeah, I’d go through the door again.  But what if slamming my hand in it happens repeatedly?  It would then be logical to be cautious about using that door.  I’d go through the back door, or climb through a window, or just stay inside as long as possible.  Or try to replace the door or figure out why the hell I keep slamming my hand in it.

A rocking chair blocking one of the doors I could totally use instead of the front door.

I also explained that I live in a rural area, and most of the online matches have lived hours away.

Then yesterday I mentioned this conversation to a co-worker, who immediately jumped into solutionizing-mode and was all, “Yes, you should get back on the horse!  Get out and have more experiences, to learn what you really don’t want, blah blah blah. . . ”

I wish I could get them to understand that this is HARD.  Meeting new people is not FUN for me.  Online dating is not some magic bullet, where if I just sign up and put myself out there again, great guys will line up wanting to get to know me.  That’s not how it works.  I really appreciated the timing of Mayim’s video this week:

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It’s been a rough week, internally at least.  Sleep-deprived, anxiety-ridden, and depressed, I tried to post something positive on social media.  And then there was a situation where I was told I’d hurt someone’s feelings, which I never want to do.  I reached out to the person and apologized, and I think everything is ok, but that kind of thing is exhausting.

I keep forgetting how draining social media is, and that I need to take another break from it.  Getting an Apple Watch has helped me a little – I can take a walk and still track my distance and listen to music without having a device in my pocket that I will be pulling out to check the feeds.  I need to be filling my time and soul with better things, even if that means sitting still and looking at the trees.  I am trying to be better about reaching out to people directly, instead of just scrolling on Facebook when I’m feeling lonely.

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So this morning, as I was sitting in my comfy chair and drinking my coffee, I glanced over at the stack of books on the radiator beside me.  And I reached for Samantha Craft’s Everyday Aspergers, which is a collection of her blog posts.  My bookmark was on the page for “Ten Traits (Females with Aspergers)”  – you can read it here.

Re-reading a description that matched so much of my experience was comforting.  I continued reading the next several pages, smiling at thoughts that sounded like my own, empathizing with struggles that were different in specifics but familiar to me in this fallen world.  It reminded me that I am not alone in the way I experience the world.  I’m not alone in the ways I struggle.  I’m not alone in being frequently misunderstood. I’m not alone in being confused by neurotypical people.  I’m not alone.

Blue Memories

Posted on by under Personal

yellow tree

It is a lovely fall day (though rather windy), so I went out for a long walk.  I’ve been watching a lot of TV while editing photos, so I switched the podcast for some instrumental music to better listen to my own thoughts for a bit.  I saw the plentiful leaves on the ground, and smiled as I remembered playing in piles of leaves in the backyard when I was little.  But then the musty smell hit my nose, the smell of decaying bits of life that will be no more.  And I was overcome with sadness.

 Joy looks at a now-blue memory with Sadness

One of the most poignant devices in the Pixar movie Inside Out is how Sadness touches happy memories, permanently turning them blue.  I feel like that’s been going on a lot lately in my own brain.  I’ll scramble for those bright yellow orbs, trying to cheer myself up with happy recollections, only to feel the sting of recognizing that those times are not coming back.

I’ve been feeling painfully nostalgic a lot lately.  A young friend and I have been watching Girl Meets World (and Boy Meets World).  That stirs up a lot of stuff.  While I certainly don’t miss the angst of crushes, I do miss having a group of friends to hang out with all the time, and the hope I had that someday a crush could like me back.  Then last night I was chatting with another young friend, who recently got an N64.  I happily reminisced about playing N64 games for hours on end with my guy friends. . . and I miss that.

I don’t look at those years with rose-colored glasses.  My high school friends and I promised each other we would never forget how awful it was.  I do not miss the emotional rollercoaster, the bullying and teasing, the frequent depression, the pain of unrequited interest and emotional attachment.  I do not miss being told I should just go home and kill myself (spoken by a best friend) or watching my friends stray down sinful paths, and the subsequent loneliness.  I miss hanging out with friends every day, the Sundays at my pastor’s house that got me through the rest of my week, obsessing with my best friend over our favorite things, sharing inside jokes and favorite quotes, late nights talking, sharing packs of SourPatch Kids Watermelon candy at the movie theater, sledding down the hill and staring at the stars.  I miss the times I was filled with hope.  I miss the more certain faith I had those years that one friend in particular was in my life.

We met October 3rd, 2001. (That’s another reason fall is a hard time for memories.) He rescued me from unpleasant conversations on a school field trip, and on the bus ride home he looked at the changing leaves and explained to me why fall is his favorite season.  There is so much I miss about those years, even though they were also filled with pain.  I wouldn’t want to go back. . . but it’s hard not having those good things anymore.

Thankfulness

Posted on by under Personal

I took a walk today, and I put on a Boundless Show podcast (Episode 354). Lisa was interviewing Louie Giglio about his advent book, and she asked him a question about single adults trying to hold onto hope instead of dwelling on what they’re not having.

We always have that choice of saying, well this is what’s not happening. I’m gonna focus on what isn’t happening. And the end of that journey always leads us to a really dark place.

Yeah.

It was good timing.  You’d think that since two days ago was Thanksgiving I would have figured it out, but lately I’ve really been down.  Mostly because it’s so easy to fall into thinking about the things I don’t have.  I don’t mean the stupid things like a functional iPod (though I miss that), but the big things.  Marriage. Or even a date.  Kids. A group of friends to hang out with all the time, like when I was younger.  A home of my own.  A great job.

It’s hard, because too often I look at the lack and blame it on not being good enough, or being weird.  Or I catch myself thinking it’s not fair.

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A very wise person once told me,

God answers our prayers in three ways:

“Yes.”

“Not yet.”

“I have something better for you.”

I’ve tried to hold onto that, the idea that he isn’t simply saying “no” to things, but he has a plan for my good and his glory.  It’s hard to trust sometimes.

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Anyway, I realized on my walk I should spend some time reflecting on what I *do* have.  As soon as I heard that part of the podcast I knew I should sit down and blog.  This list could clearly go on for a very long time, so I’ll just hit a few highlights.  It’s a good reminder to resume the habit of writing down daily blessings, a la One Thousand Gifts.

 

I’m thankful for the opportunity to go back to college.  I’m thankful that my inheritance from my grandfather meant that I was able to jump into getting an associate’s degree without the added stress of going into debt.  My classes have been going really well.  I strongly dislike the networking topic, but I enjoyed the C++ programming class so much that I finished my final assignment 3 weeks early.  It’s encouraging to see that I really do have an aptitude for this field and enjoy the material, as I had hoped.  I’m hopeful that it will lead to a good job where I can thrive.

I’m thankful that I’ve been able to continue working part-time with my autistic client, and I am especially thankful that he got moved back to the best teacher I’ve ever worked with.  Not only is she great to work with, but we’ve started spending time together outside of work as well – it’s so much fun to get to have a conversation with her without the kids interrupting every 10 seconds! I’m also thankful for the opportunity this job gives me to show other kids some love.  There are some really sweet girls in my client’s class, and sometimes we have good conversations at lunch.  They, in return, are a huge encouragement and blessing.  Look at this:

I’m thankful for the awesome time we had in Nashville in September, at the Jars 20 Celebration Weekend.  We got to casually chat with the band, meet other fans (including some people I interacted with online many years ago), have a special concert in the Blood:Water Mission office, tour their studio, and go to the Concert to End All Concerts at the Franklin Theatre.  The guys were kind and gracious as always, and they even put up my photo gift where I could see it when they did the next online concert.  Only The Office Convention weekend comes close in awesomeness.

Jars 20

I’m thankful for my family, who accept and support me in so many ways.

I’m thankful for my best friend, and my godson, and the technology like FaceTime that lets us keep in touch so it’s easier for him to remember me when I finally get out there to visit.

I’m thankful for my sweet, fluffy cat Gandalf.  He makes me smile.

I’m thankful for the many bloggers who have helped me discover my place on the spectrum, understand more about myself and others, and make me feel less alone.

Speechless

Posted on by under Personal

“Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

Bull****.

There are many words that still haunt me.  Taunts about my weight that started in late elementary school.  Words of social exclusion from the mean girls.  Dismissive remarks from relatives.  A girl I considered my best friend suggesting I just kill myself. (I pretty much remember the exact phrasing of that one.)

I remember talking to a new friend in high school and explaining that my group of girl friends didn’t care what I had to say.  “Oh, I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” he said.  “No, I had the feeling that they didn’t want to hear me, but then they actually said, ‘Schenley, shut up; we don’t care.'”  I thought that was pretty convincing proof that my intuition had been correct.  I don’t remember him having a good response to that.

I recall a period there in high school where I felt like I just couldn’t win.  If I was in a good mood and talkative, they would yell at me for being annoying.  If I kept quiet, they would yell at me for being depressed.  It was only in the past few days that I started to realize the direction of the correlation – sure, sometimes I was quiet because I was depressed, but I think more often I was depressed because I was quiet.

On a recent episode of The Big Bang Theory, Sheldon is telling Amy about his “Which new game system to buy?” dilemma in a very animated and agitated fashion.  Poor, patient Amy just wants him to shut up and pass the butter, and in exasperation feigns interest.  Despite her doing this extremely obviously, Sheldon is oblivious and just gets more enthusiastic.  Sometimes I wish I could be as oblivious as Sheldon.  Instead, I have learned to pick up those social cues of disinterest and annoyance.  And when people aren’t interested, I can generally shut up.  But this comes at a cost.

I’ve started to notice that this constant tongue-biting is truly damaging to my mood.

I’m suppressing my own thoughts and feelings. I’m telling myself they aren’t worth sharing.  When these are feelings of excitement or joy, that is pretty effective at squelching the happiness.

As an Aspie, I have special interests that bring me joy.  I love to spend time on/with these things, I love to think about them, I love to talk about them.  The problem is, other people generally don’t find them as interesting.

It hurts when others aren’t interested in something I’m passionate about.  I mean, if the person is someone you care about, shouldn’t you at least listen out of care for the person, if not the topic?  Whenever someone shows a genuine interest in what I’m talking about I can feel myself light up.  Like when a friend’s husband asked follow-up questions about how paper-pieced quilting works instead of just nodding and smiling.

free pattern available at Fandom in Stitches

free pattern for the “Project of Doom” available at Fandom in Stitches

It’s great when I have someone to share an interest with, when I’m allowed to be excited and they’re excited in return.  My dad and I can rhapsodize about music and movies (and script lines at each other – yay acceptable echolalia), my sister and I can ramble on about our Sims or gush about Glee, a friend and I can quote The Office to each other and even went to The Office Convention in Scranton years ago, etc.  I treasure those relationships and moments when we can be ourselves and share each others’ joy.  There’s even research to back up the idea that sharing joy with others is a good thing.

Other times I keep my mouth shut because I’m feeling down and don’t want to dampen the other person’s mood, or what I have to say is nothing new and I feel like a broken record and feel bad for the other person who’d have to hear it.  I suck at lying, so I just don’t talk.  But that doesn’t help me feel any better.  And in those moments I long for someone to reach out to me and be honestly willing to listen.