Affordable Mental Health Resources

Free or low-cost: Because there shouldn’t be discrimination in mental health services for those of lower income, but unfortunately…

Also, I guess we’re taking another loop around the cruel and economically incompetent healthcare repeal roller coaster. Call your Congresspeople (Congresslimes, as the case may be for some?) and tell them to be human beings. The Golden Rule is not a suggestion, argggh!!!!**

**Actual expression of disgust and dismay; not an attempt to sneak in an under-the-radar Talk Like a Pirate Day post.

Color Me Bipolar

I was going to post just the free ones, but it got quite exhaustive. So, check out this article of 81 Awesome Mental Health Resources When You Can’t Afford Therapy

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Liebster Awards



I talked in a recent blog post about how I have been able to deal with a family crisis (read: a new flavor of an old 3h!7 sandwich) this past month while still maintaining my career, Improv class, and general head-above-water appearance. I may have slightly exaggerated that in one capacity: I have been terrible at social media and communicating with people in general.

I realized I haven’t been on Facebook in over a month?! I’ve written blog posts, but they have been off-the-cuff posts. Some time ago, Jen from Inside of Jen’s Head nominated me for my first Liebster Award. I knew I’d procrastinated a bit, and that, after procrastinating for a bit, I was developing The Fear about just writing it at all. I was embarrassed I hadn’t done it already, so I was even more afraid to start. I overthought who to nominate, I hung my head because I hadn’t responded earlier, and I developed a bit of analysis paralysis. (I think analysis paralysis is even worse in women with ADHD who also happen to analyze things for a living!) I didn’t realize/acknowledge how long I’d been sinking into that form of social anxiety. Couple social anxiety with a bit of old-school ADHD time blindness and it has been, erm, “a bit” since my first nomination. It has been long enough, in fact, that I also received a second nomination from Ali from The Nut Factory.

Clearly, I have rejection sensitivity. It would be nice if RSD always spurred me into action when people did the opposite of rejecting me. Maybe by itself, it would. (Or maybe not, ADHD/RSD + a touch of social anxiety in one-on-one relationships, which fortunately I don’t have in anonymous crowds like in Improv, is tricky). Throw in a crisis? I basically withdraw so far into myself that I don’t remember how to reach out socially after it’s over. I especially don’t know how to connect while it’s still ongoing, as it is currently. With everything being so stressful this past month, my blog has been a source of mental health support (and an unofficial answer to both Jen’s and Ali’s first questions!) My readers are a big part of why. Every reader who takes the time to nominate me or comment on my blog is a tiny bright spot in a lousy month. Knowing that, my deepest apologies to Jen for taking so long to respond, and my heartfelt thanks to both Jen and Ali for their nominations.

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Wheres’s Whoopsie #3/Improv #2: The Empty Canvas is Already Whoopsied

I have an approach/avoidance relationship to mindfulness. Creating an intentionally mindful state is a battle, but hyperfocus, which comes naturally, has trance-like qualities.

The more upsetting recent events have been, the more I have hyperfocused on my labyrinthine coloring book. Can I call it mindful meditation that I completed two posts worth of Where’s Whoopsies in one weekend? Does it help that it was actually soothing?

Or does it no longer count since I derive no comfort from the meditation mantras themselves, just from their repetitive motions? I have only heard one suggested meditation mantra among many that I partially identified with.

“The glass is already broken…”

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Lavender is Not Indigo

Purple is my favorite color. What shade? Every shade in the Crayola Big Box. I even count magenta as an honorary purple.

Early on, it was indigo. I have a recording of my younger sibling’s first word. While my parents tried to document the milestone, four-year-old Lavender can be heard interjecting her thoughts.

Everyone’s continued focus on a single word was rather underwhelming. (This dominating-the-conversation habit would also get her into trouble in preschool until her parents gave up and pulled her out. How was her ADHD not diagnosed until adulthood?) Lavender felt that her parents should “make [her sibling] say indigo,” which she explained was her favorite color.

I am, thus, amused when someone on the Internet says that millennials with ADHD are Indigo Children.

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Improv 101 (Part 1): Levity is a Ladder

Dealing with people is not easy for girls with the hyperactive flavor of ADHD. We miss social cues, we talk over people, we fidget, we can’t modulate the volume of our voice, we interrupt. We see the complete picture of how to bring a project together, but can’t explain why you should believe us. We do all of these and more in an RSD spiral.

I’ve had some varient of “needs to stop clipping people’s sentence with her own reply” written on every performance evaluation I’ve ever gotten. This was true before dysautonomia, but trying to talk coherently when your blood pressure is 80-something over 50-something during your review doesn’t help. Thank heavens for planned out replies. I had a reasonable review, even though the new diagnosis amped up the challenge rating.

Dysautonomia alone shouldn’t further deteriorate social skills. My history of corporate ridiculousness practically guaranteed it would. My boss set my review for 8am, the earliest possible slot of the whole team. Between dysautonomia and ADHD, mornings are not my most clear-headed. Mornings after a night out “bonding” didn’t help. (We were on retreat at a hotel with corporate meeting rooms.) The others drank. I didn’t, and I left at a sensible time. However, even those few extra hours of socializing apparently were too much for dysautonomia. ADHD is socially awkward, but dysautonomia is just asocial.

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Zero Visibility a.k.a. Brain Fog

I read this post less than four hours after I wrote a post that included the line, “I bet fibro can make you faint, too.” Well, per this symptom list, it absolutely can. I procrastinated like the ADHDer I am in reblogging this, but I felt the timing was too coincidental not to share.

Crafts, Chronic Illness, and Adulting

One of the most amazing things about the human body is its ability to adapt and overcome, especially with chronic illness. In time your brain leads you to believe that most of your symptoms become your new ‘baseline’ (as I call it), because let’s face it, it’s not really your new ‘normal’. Cognitive impairment or ‘brain fog’ as it’s more commonly known, likely has you pulling out your list of symptoms at every new doctors appointment ensuring you don’t forget your new baseline symptoms. As you nervously go through the list the doctor is likely looking at you as if you’ve seriously got to be joking.  I found this ME/CFS and Fibromyalgia handy dandy symptom list and took the printed version to my last appointment (crossing out the 14 out of 144 items that didn’t apply to me). The doctor looked it over in front of me and then looking at me straight faced said, “You can’t…

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A very well-informed blog post that I had to share. Doable suggestions for how Spoonies who cannot physically manage protests and who may be triggered by reading the news regularly can stay informed and speak out safely.

I can only begin this post by stating I am aware of the privileges I have as a white middle class woman. I recognize my experience is different from that of a person of color. In fact, I recognize my experience is different from that of a person with a visible disability, instead of my invisible illness. In societal terms I am, within the boundaries set forth for women, acceptable, and to a large point, welcome.

So I can only begin to imagine the stress my less welcomed fellow Americans are undergoing right now. I can only extrapolate from my own sense of powerlessness the helplessness they must be feeling. I share in their anger and dismay but I cannot fully understand how they feel.

I can only hope there is something I can do to help put an end to this madness.

There’s an added complexity for me, one…

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POTSies Against Nazis

I have a colorful new diagnosis. (I also have gastritis, probably as a result of being allergic to everything.)

I’m not inflammatory (IBD), but I’m pretty salty. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) is a type of dysautonomia officially characterized by a heart rate increase of at least thirty bpm upon standing. This tachycardia is often associated with a drop in blood pressure (orthostatic hypotension), though clinically OH warrants its own additional dysautonomia diagnosis. There are multiple types of dysautonomia. I seem to be able to catch ’em all.

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Where’s Whoopsie: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words?

I have my GI tests Tuesday, and Friday I have my annual review at work. I am sure I will have much to update soon, but this week I am lying low. I have not had an easy past few weeks.

I’m using the recommended day off before the procedure (during the prep phase) to have a longer session than normal with my therapist. She advised that we preemptively role-play the types of negative feedback I expect to receive at my annual review and make a plan for ways to keep the physical symptoms of RSD under wraps.

The timing – and extra planning – actually makes a lot of sense. I’ve recently had to deal with some family issues (on top of work and spoonie-ness) that are highly triggering for me. The last thing I want is for RSD and PTSD to tag team during my review. RSD alone makes it hard enough to respond coherently. I don’t want to conflate an unpleasant, but short term, experience at work with broader trauma issues.

Until my next update, have installment two of Where’s Whoopsie!


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Mini Writing Prompt Challenge: If I Came With a Warning Label…

pi love2

I am throwing down the gauntlet and challenging my readers to a Mini Writing Prompt Challenge The Rules: Write a 25 to 100 word piece of poetry, prose or flash fiction answering the question “If I came with a warning label . . . ?” Add the hashtag #bravewarninglabelchallenge Publish the piece on your blog before […]

via Mini Writing Prompt Challenge: If I Came with a Warning Label. . . #bravewarninglabelchallenge — Brave and Reckless

My submission is not about my partner! My partner is actually there for me during times of intense stress, and I am incredibly lucky to have him in my life. This is just what immediately came to my mind when I saw the prompt. I figured I’d go with it:

Warning: Highly Irrational

I’m not in my right mind. Crazy. You know what those words do to me. What did you expect?

I’m irrational. I worry too much about horrible things unlikely to happen. I tune out; reconstruct details incorrectly. A single word colors my whole perception of a conversation.

I did warn you…

Warned you we share a few too many dirty cognitions of the human mind. Warned you I take your words to heart, but not to brain. Isn’t it a bit biased to suppose you can wield irrationality against me?

After all, I know that you’re irrational, too.