Well, that was a very nice and interesting break from writing. Glad to be back.
Personal Updates
No news is usually good news, at least for this blog. This time, I’ve returned because I think my brain is too backed up, so I’m here to offload some of that. I also recently had one of my classic hour-long anxiety attacks, which I thankfully haven’t had in a while, and the only thing that makes it go away is writing.
“Blogs are a conversation no one wanted to have with you.” - Michelle Wolfe
Since my last post in…October(?!), I spent a lot of the time catching up on old projects. Back when my roommate/wife went to grad school, I chose to give up the vast amount of time I spent on hobbies. It turns out that Young Jon was using hyperfixations to manage his ADHD before getting diagnosed. Some years passed, hijinks ensued, and finally, my overall life situation just started to take off in a very positive direction in the fall. That was the week I started trialling Vyvanse, but more on that later.
My functioning went through the roof, I learned how to manage my CPTSD, my mood was higher, and my schedule became clearer than it ever had ever been in my life. Breaking records, left and right. As such, I got back into my hobbies, like tinkering with computer- and audio-hardware, modelling inventions with the 3D printer, breaking out my soldering iron again. Getting back to the gym and barbell, sorta. I even learned how to manually relax my mind and body, which is one of those development milestones that can become impaired when you grow up with insecure attachment, trauma, adverse childhood experiences, and all that jazz. I physically stink at relaxing, so knowing how to activate the relaxation reflex feels like a major accomplishment.
I’m happy. I don’t think I’ve ever really been able to say that truthfully before, and it’s only gotten better with time. I certainly enjoyed many forms of privilege and saw many upsides in my existence so far, but the weight of the undiagnosed CPTSD, following me through all the peaks and valleys, always dragged me down. Most of my smiles were tainted with any of many symptoms in a carousel of mental health issues. I barely had any self-esteem to speak of, little and brittle. After many hard-fought battles and therapy, I feel like I woke up for the first time.
I’m not saying that everything has been butterflies and rainbows since autumn. Got my first COVID infection in December. Couple that with catching a stubborn cold right after recovering, my meteoric rise was interrupted by some two months of being sick. Then stuff happened in February, my background levels of depression got pushed to the foreground, just spent a week on a beach erasing parts of my brain by listening to and staring at ocean waves. Now here we are.
I don’t think my environment suddenly became perfect, but it feels like the Universe stopped flinging shit at me. For now, at least. Seems stable.
So this post isn’t an award acceptance speech or anything, just context for what I see ahead. At birth, every new soul is handed a list of tools and challenges for the journey, and then they’re released to the wild to encounter other souls and all sorts of interesting situations. Everyone’s combination is unique. I’d like to say that I’ve risen to many occasions, and now the rules of the game have relaxed, like when you’ve explored all of the dark corners and each area is visible on the map. Still carrying many of the challenges from early on, but I’m going to enjoy every moment of whatever this current stage is.
So what’s left to talk about if the sun is finally shining on me? Well, I got a couple ideas if you’re interested.
Drugs
Nobody asked, but I’ll give an update anyways. Been fine tuning my Vyvanse, which has simply been amazing.
Changed my dosage and timing like 8 or 9 times now. It’s like finally finding that one clothing brand with the cuts that fit your body type, and now you’re trying on the sizes that you wore with other brands. Takes time to test the usual suspects, maybe take a few risks, send some selfies. I’m currently taking 10 mg at 7 AM and 30 mg at 10:30 AM, and I’m going to lock it in there. Two years of tinkering with these meds, and while I’m grateful for all the miracle of modern medicine, I’m over all of the process. This is great and good enough.
Vaping less. The process of tapering my nicotine got real low, below 3 mg/mL concentration. Even managed to quit for like, a day, but I learned the hard way that quitting before an acutely stressful period is unlikely to succeed. Small delay, but it doesn’t matter which direction it goes as long as I move forward. Honestly, it felt like my body was resisting, but turns out my stress intake was building for a couple months and ended up higher than I realized. Back from vacay bébé, so back to the grind.
Still drinking decaf. Sleep has even improved despite using a stimulant with a half-life of 14 hours. Sleep is life. Still not drinking alcohol, not even at Beach.
Rush Hour
I’m still figuring out how to dismantle my incessant need to rush through many non-urgent tasks.
Rushing is different from hurrying. To hurry is to move quickly while maintaining quality, whereas rushing is much more urgent and panicked, usually cutting a lot more corners. If I walk more briskly than normal to the bus stop, I’m hurrying. If I forget my keys and lunch, and one of my shoes is falling off while I sprint there, that’s rushing. Say I’m washing my hands at home. I always take the full 20 seconds to scrub with soap and water, yet why should I ever rush such that I freeze or scald my hands? I know the general set point for each of the faucets. So uh, yeah, what’s going on?
I’ve been working on this quirk for some time, and so far the treatment has mostly been to engage with the panicked side of my brain and have a conversation with it.
Rational Brain: What the actual fuck, man?
Panicked Brain: Gotta go. Gotta go.
Rational: Why?
Panic: Because!
Rational: Okay, sure. That’s a compelling argument. You’ve convinced me.
Panic: Shut up, we can talk about this later.
Rational: Fuck you. When? Give me at least one reason.
Panic: REEEEEEEE
Now multiply that conversation by all the mundane tasks. Taking out the trash. Putting my socks in the laundry hamper. Loading the dishwasher, muttering to myself.
A less-than-reasonable observer who’s listened to too many hustle culture podcasts might interject that everyone chooses to make time for the things that are important to them. I could become really rigid with my schedule and strong-arm my goals through every barrier, but I’d be bumping into guardrails. I’ve tried the brute force tactic many times, almost as a way of life, and I can assure you that its inelegance is as ineffective as you suspect. It’s like watching sports cars weaving through city traffic only to end up at the same red lights as everyone they passed.
In this recent time of quiet, I’ve actually discovered at least two pretty valid reasons for hurrying. In my experience, I will either A) forget to do it later or B) lose motivation before the deadline. They still aren’t good reasons to rush.
I’ve written at length about my ADHD time blindness and traumas, which contribute to the feelings of anxiety and panic. I still show up promptly for the mission-critical items in my schedule, but short of that, it’s anyone’s guess if I’ll do a non-urgent job on time.
As an aside, recall that Pete Walker said that talking about CPTSD symptoms as separate diagnoses is like describing allergic reactions as something like Severe Eye Watering Disorder. ADHD apparently falls under the CPTSD diagnosis, and I still don’t have that relationship figured out. Just read about how one of the most cited studies on Alzheimer’s was based on fabricated data, and the disease now needs to shift theories to being treated as an autoimmune response of the brain. When tens of millions are impacted each year and tens of millions spent on research being pointed in that direction, that’s a cause to pause. I just found out about my ADHD two years ago, and now it’s being redefined? Gaddamn.
One uncomfortable truth behind my never-ending rush hour is that I’m afraid someone will be mad at me. Doesn’t matter who, even strangers. I’m apparently gripped by the fear of disconnection from making anyone unhappy. I wonder if there is some sort of childhood attachment issue driving that. 😑
The other truth is more a byproduct of suffering under capitalism, which is that I don’t have the space or capacity to feel my feelings without the rest of my little coping system collapsing. So I’m just literally running away from myself until my body says no and collapses instead. Sweet.
The bright side is that I now objectively have more time for most things. Children are off the table since I got snipped. No major extended family obligations to speak of. I delayed gratification as a general policy, to the point where depression got the best of me several times, and now it is time to indulge. Like damn, even in low stakes video games, I would always be saving up items and currency for “later,” even when it made the games more stressful than real life. Doing The Work® after this new morning will include such groundbreaking techniques as:
washing my hands with water at a comfortable temperature,
mapping out a route before I start driving,
taking a break from playing with electronics to snack or eat a proper meal,
and so much more!
Thus I’ll have more free time, but that won’t mean I’m more available. I’ll probably just be at home, laying on the couch, watching TV for a lot of it. I am so very tired.
Acceptance
Touched on acceptance in my last post, so wanted to follow up on it. Reached a moment where I thought “This is my life.” This is it. I wanted it to look a certain way by a certain time, but it is what it is. The moment was neither sad, nor triumphant. Just vibes.
Part of the problem was that I wanted to have it all, but something had to give. Trade-offs. I would have liked to have children, but turns out it was incompatible with getting an education, a career, processing childhood traumas, fostering rewarding relationships, partying, travelling. The idealism from my 20’s has taken enough hits, and looking around at the landscape, I’m pretty stoked about what I have and what I don’t.
I also finally understand what people mean when they say to just hold on, like the Wilson Philips song. I’ve experienced it a few times where you approach a challenge with nothing more than your presence, like in school when you haven’t completed an assignment, and somehow you make it through unscathed. The teacher asks you to hand in your work, and you confess that you don’t have anything. They ask why not, and you reply that you were busy juggling a bunch of other big problems, so this one fell by the wayside. You expect a ceremonial shaming in front of the whole class, and as you brace yourself for a lashing, the teacher mercifully offers you a short extension. I’m not talking about flagrantly shirking one’s responsibilities, but there is just something about showing up honestly and humbly when you know you failed to fulfill a requirement. Stumbled on a blog post earlier today on a similar experience, called Eleven Magic Words.
One example that comes to mind is when I got a ticket for running a red light. I was picking up my parents from the airport, returning from a two-week trip. Alberta has the Justice of the Peace Act to prevent minor cases from needlessly going to the higher courts. One of the areas it covers is the Traffic Court, so people suggested I talk to a Justice of the Peace about getting my ticket reduced.
Once I met with the judge, I explained that I knew I shouldn't have run the red light, that I normally drive safely because I often had passengers in my car, but I was in a bit of a rush because I was busy in school, I missed my parents, and my brothers weren't available to go to the airport. I apologized and said I wouldn't do it again. He pointed out that I was driving 54 km/h in a 50 zone. I just said "Yeah. 😐" Then he reduced my ticket from something like $240 to $50. Said he would have reduced it completely if I weren't speeding.
That’s the general vibe I had entering the Fall of ’23. Been slogging through the mud for nine years, and I submitted to the Universe that yeah, this is all I can bring. This is me. Probably going to be untangling my CPTSD for the rest of my life, suffering through emotional flashbacks triggered by silence, tweaking my medication every week or two, sleeping 5 to 6 hours a night, mood and energy forever too low. This is the best I can do, and I’m sorry that I can’t do more. Then the curtain lifted, and things just started getting easier. I don’t know the magic incantation. I’m not sure if there’s a term or meme that already encapsulates this situation, so let’s just call it something like “showing up with open hands” for now; the feeling of not deserving what you desire, but you still ask for it anyway. Still faced a crisis since then, still have bad days, but I’ve been walking on sunshine for the last four months. Cảm ơn, Chúa.
Wrap It Up
I’m happy. Bet you never thought I’d say that.
Glad to be writing again. Been funnelling my creative energies into fulfilling promises to Past Jon about getting back to my hobbies after making important sacrifices and investments with my time. Retrieving my soldering iron from storage was an important milestone that made me emotional, so now I’m finally back to playing with my toys. Sleep has been much better. Moving my body more.
Got my drugs dialed in like never before. Powered by Vyvanse on the daily, using a dosage and timing with record-breaking efficacy. Brought my nicotine down low, but stepped back to take another running start at quitting.
Still stuck in a never-ending rush hour, but it is relenting. Been telling myself that there was never a reason to rush, but I at least came up with two reasons to hurry, anticipating my loss of memory and motivation. And now I have an unprecedented amount of free time. Being child- and family-free helps. Using my time wisely by laying on the couch.
Reached another level of acceptance with my life and what I’m able to bring to it. Showed up with open hands, then Life magically got easier. Feels like waking up to a new morning. Nothing lasts forever, so I’m going to enjoy it as much as I can.
Brb the kitchen sink just started leaking.