Improv #15: Twitterpated

*Knock knock*

“Who’s there”

“Hashtag”

“#who?”

“#whoknewTwitterwasoccassionallyuseful? Not me, at least not until today…”

I do not take the full – or even the half – advantage of social media that a blogger is supposed to, so I can’t actually add my contribution to the #AbledsAreWeird Twitterstorm on Twitter itself. I can say I have been laughing myself silly over that hashtag today. For any spoonie who hasn’t seen it, I highly advise you to check it out when you need a break from the world today.

Since I am not twitterpated by the idea of adding yet another form of social media for my poor ADHD brain to have to manage in general, I’ll add the contribution I would have tweeted if I bothered to maintain a Twitter presence for my blog here instead. (But, though I’m only posting here, seriously go check out the actual hashtag on Twitter too!) I will, though, at least conform to Twitter rules and keep my contribution to 280 characters:

Improv actor share:”Doc 1st thought symptoms were chronic, but thank God my infection was acute. How could I live w/pain forever? Life wouldn’t be worth living!”
Lav(next up w/visible cane):”I guess my share is I’m chronically ill & life is worth living? Kthanxbai”#AbledsAreWeird

Yes, that’s a true story, and from very recently. No, I have no idea what, if anything, I should do about it. The person who made the comment was just a student in a class with me. That class is now over. In principle, I won’t see them again? (I mean, it’s not like I’m going to choose to perform in an indie troupe with someone who’d speak like that when I’d previously shared that I occasionally require accommodations for the physical parts of improv because of my chronic illnesses and they still thought that was an appropriate way to phrase a weekly highlight…)

But, the instructor, who is a regular and very serious theater performer, also did not seem to get that there was anything amiss about that comment. This speaks to the broader complete cluelessness about spoonie sensitivity that the hashtag also makes apparent. There’s clearly a need for more awareness among the theater crowd about a) why a spoonie’s life is worth living, even with their chronic illnesses and b) why if an abled performer doesn’t happen to agree, they should still keep their big fat mouths shut about it since at least 1 in 4 of their audience members will also be living with some form of chronic physical or mental illness.

The theater has been encouraging “tough conversations” around diversity and women’s issues in the theater recently. So, it seems like it might be an appropriate time to point out that many performers – and audience members – are also members part of the largest minority group in America. It is just as critical to have “tough conversations” around how to speak about disability as it is to discuss how to speak about race, class, culture, religion and sexual orientation. I am getting really sick of even so-called Progressives managing to include just about every possible form of inclusiveness except disability in their sensitivity training. I’m also not really high enough up in the theater to know where to start to change the narrative, unfortunately…

Need a recap of anything I’m talking about in any post? Check out the Glossary of Terms.

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My PTSD Awareness: Currently Subject to Mental Health Austerity Policies

PTSD_Awareness

Trauma_is

PTSD sucks. I have previously written 48 posts to this effect. (But who’s counting?)

Today is National PTSD Awareness Day. I’m still generally too overwhelmed in my ability to cope from ongoing 9th Circle of Hell trauma and PTSD symptoms – oh the irony! – to muster up my usual witty commentary on my awareness of awareness months at the 11th hour.

Instead, have some humor (with a grain of real truth in it) courtesy of my Partner instead.  This conversation took place tonight in regards to whether I should still go to open mic night knowing I have to deal with the 9th Circle of Hell again on Friday. I felt guilty for not obsessively staying home and continuously preparing, even though that was liable to just end with me a dissociated puddle on the floor.

Partner: “Remember how austerity was a resounding success for the world’s economies during recent economic troubles?”

Lavender: *Crickets*

Partner: “No? Well, mental health is the same way.”

Take care of yourself. Austerity in economics and/or mental health care is rarely a sustainable solution for long-term shocks.

Need a recap of anything I’m talking about in any post? Check out the Glossary of Terms.

Trust and Mental Health Treatment (Part 3): What the Asses Meant

Assessment (noun): the act of assessing; appraisal; evaluation

Also known as a determination of what a bunch of asses meant.

Psychiatrists have fifteen minutes with their patients, so it’s already a reasonable assumption that they base the majority of their assessments of patients on immediate impressions, stereotypes and whatever was current when they graduated medical school and last bothered to read a journal article – which could be fifteen years or more prior.

There aren’t a ton of psychiatrists covered by my insurance, period. Even “good” insurance in America is rarely good for mental health. There are even fewer who prescribe stimulants for ADHD. Once a month I make time out of my weekend to go see one of those to obtain a hand-carry prescription. I then take that hand-carry prescription to my pharmacy to be filled, where I am asked to verify my identity with a form of ID at least twice, report my address, and then have the exact date and time that prescription was filled entered into a state database to ensure I don’t fill the next month’s allotment even one single minute early.*

I am not harassed during any of this process because I present well. I’m “high functioning,” as I’m repeatedly told. However, my psychiatrist’s office isn’t trauma informed – or even that nice to the majority of their patients. They are one of the few that will take those on public insurance, and they don’t feel they have to be nice, I guess. They’ll fill their waiting rooms and make their money either way. The waiting room is regularly filled with a very diverse set of clients, many of whom have ADHD. I go there even though there are clear issues because they are closest to my home and offer weekend appointments. I don’t even know if the other options would be better, so I just stick with convenience. I hate a lot of what I see there, but I really do need weekend appointments badly given how late I work. I don’t think I could maintain that “high-functioning” job that helps so much in the mental health world if I had to take time off every month to go to a psychiatrist appointment that takes an hour (even though we’re only actually seen for 15 minutes) out of the business day. I do have a couple of other options since my insurance isn’t public, but not many.

It saddens me so much that others don’t even get to weigh those limited pros and cons in their choice of psychiatrists to help them with disorders that should be no more shameful than a broken leg or diabetes.

Continue reading “Trust and Mental Health Treatment (Part 3): What the Asses Meant”

Apps that Ad(h)d Up

There is an inherent contradiction that I have noticed in a lot of workbooks, apps, and other tools for mental and/or physical health. The tools themselves require a tremendous amount of attention to detail, dedication and memory for recording precise events at precise times. If those things were intuitive for me, I wouldn’t need those tracking and reminder apps in the first place!

It’s a great idea – in theory – to record every time I feel triggered, depressed, light-headed or aching, then to write down which techniques I tried to address the problem(s) with a corresponding 1-5 Likert scale rating of how much symptom reduction I obtained from them. I’m a data nerd by nature, but I also have ADHD. I need the tracking to be easy to do, work in multiple environments, and to provide handy visual data aggregations to make sense of the trends. I create those types of data visualizations every day for my job, but I do not have the time or spoons to take on a second job doing my day job again on my own time for my own health! If someone wants to pay me to create the world’s most perfect health tracking report, great. Until then, I just want technology to do it for me!

Continue reading “Apps that Ad(h)d Up”

Where’s Whoopsie #11/Improv #7: Potty Mouth

What can I say? It’s been a bit of a $h177y week. Trauma guilt (see comments on that post if you want to hear about the new turd that dropped this week) is a dirty job. Dirty jobs call for Dirty Jobs.

I’ve been watching a lot of reality t.v. this week because that’s where my brain is at. I have been gravitating towards things that are less about people – because eff people – and more about the situations they are in: Naked and Afraid (survival skills), Deadliest Catch (crab fishing) and Dirty Jobs (hopefully self-explanatory.)

I just learned from the Discovery Channel’s Dirty Jobs that, in the historical Middle East, bedouins would consume fresh camel dung as a treatment for dysentery. Apparently, it was kind of like an old-school fecal transplant: top up the substandard human gut bacteria with some powerhouse camel bacteria and kick dysentery’s @$$ before it kicks your own. (Note: this only works with fresh camel dung. Using the older stuff just leads to more problems!)

I buy the concept. I do have to wonder who in history, however, first came up with that idea in the era before you could test such things in a sterile lab environment without any actual consuming required. Who was that human who first looked at the wrong end of a camel and asked, “I wonder what will happen if I eat the things that came out of this animal’s butt? Oh, hey! Maybe it will make things no longer come out of my butt!” This feels like it should have become a cautionary tale for a girl who claims to be down to try anything once that there is sometimes such a thing as being too adventurous.

That said, our assignment for Improv class this week is to be incredibly mindful of how we do everyday activities. Like, how we don’t grab a wine glass with a fist like a cup. We don’t even truly grab our cup like we often pantomime that we grab our “cup.” We actually flip our hand upside down and hold a wine glass underneath the wide part of the glass. We do ham-fist our mugs, however. It’s the little details like these distinctions in object work in Improv that really distinguish the professionals from the amateurs. Realistic pantomime is so much more believable than sloppy pantomime. Immersion is so much more fun for an audience than constantly breaking the Fourth Wall. Our assignment is thus to slow down and really pay attention to how we do the things we do each day. Mindfulness: it’s not just for trauma drama anymore.

Given that it is also IBS Awareness Month and I have already once legitimately performed in a scene wherein I was acting as someone straining on the toilet* for most of the scene, I have to wonder how far I should take the method acting?! Is there ever a point in bathroom humor where the pantomime becomes a little too uncanny valley? I mean 10-25% of us have been there. Probably more of us have if we’re spoonies. Ehlers-Danlos and other disorders come along with gut motility issues as a buy-one-get-one-free.

Is it funnier for an IBS-sufferer audience member to see the pantomime done well? Because on stage, at least, it isn’t them languishing in the compromising situation? Or does it just make it sadder to see it done wrong anyway? An actor doing it wrong implies they don’t have the lived experienced to do it right. It implies that even after the actor completed a specific assignment in which they observed how they completed everyday activities, they still never had the opportunity to “experience” what realistic bathroom distress looks and sounds like? I’ll never know. I have had the recent opportunities to observe the real situation in action. I “pushed” my limits in the name of accuracy on the throne and on the stage…

However, if there is a line for realism in Improv potty humor, I’m pretty sure that it stops somewhere around camel dung as a treatment for dysentery. The fact that I now know that fact might very well show up in one of my Improv scenes someday. We are encouraged to draw inspiration wherever we can. I will not, however, be observing how to pantomime that action realistically.

Happy Saturday everyone. Hoping your week ahead – like your stool – passes quickly and isn’t too hard to handle! In honor of IBS Awareness Month, which has periwinkle as its color, “digest” these three offerings and find the mistakes. There’s a periwinkle-and-brown Where’s Whoopsie for the awareness campaign, and I include two others that have brown and yellow. Because why not? When have I ever quit while I’m “behind”?

*For anyone wondering: the Improv game in which I engaged in some potty-mouth humor was a freeze-type game. Actors waiting in the wings would watch a scene until the on-stage actors naturally contorted into some sort of crazy physical pose, then they would call “Freeze.” They would tag out the actors, assume their poses exactly, and start a brand-new scene starting from whatever those poses suggested. I had been partially squatting and looking angry – about to rush a dude in a bar – at the time freeze was called. The replacement actor went with the other obvious solution for what two folks near to each other, squatting, and looking stressed could be. The new scene with him and me involved him coaching me through a “difficult food baby delivery” like a Lamaze coach. I just had to “go with it” it, as they say…

Need a recap of anything I’m talking about in any post? Check out the Glossary of Terms.

Where’s Whoopsie #4: I’m Aware that I’m Rarely Aware

Huh. Dysautonomia, ADHD, and mental health share an awareness month! (Mental Health Awareness Week this year was October 1-7. Oops. I guess I missed that one!)

It’s a pity that migraines get June for their awareness month. I was this close to only having to remember one month on this blog. That would have been incredibly handy for a girl with ADHD. Now, I know that May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and June is PTSD Awareness Month, but couldn’t I really just stick with the week, not the months? It’s hard to be aware with a disorder in which lack of awareness is a core diagnostic feature.

Continue reading “Where’s Whoopsie #4: I’m Aware that I’m Rarely Aware”