It is now 2023, as is tradition on social media and the world at large… It’s time to reflect on 2022 and review my life of the previous year. Unlike the cliche, 2022 felt like a year and didn’t go by fast and, more often than not, slower for me than others.
2022 can be summarized by the following themes: Work, Long Covid, Going out into the world again, online dating, and Inner growth.
This post is about when I went to a book signing for Alton Brown, one of my cooking idols. I used to want to be a chef and worked in the restaurant industry, so going to buy his new book, get it signed by him, and have a word was something I wasn’t going to miss!
Pumpkin Spice Cinnamon Rolls is a recipe I created, which is to add pumpkin pie filling and double pumpkin pie spices to the classic cinnamon roll. This recipe is dairy free and doesn’t use sugar. instead, it uses an erythritol blend.
The Mariners 2022 ALDS… (Part 3 of 3). (Not a fan of this title after the fact) This post is about my experience going to the first Seattle Mariners home playoff game in 21 years! It was the first time I had ever gone to any home professional sports game in my life. Boy, was it worth it. It’s the conclusion to a 3 part series, in which previous posts are linked in the post. It was game 3 of 5, win or go home for the Mariners, the entire state was covered in dangerous forest fire smog, and I did my part by writing a prayer to the god of the mariners by visiting its first stadium site in town, and burning the prayer to the god before the game.
This post is about my experience getting an article published in the Seattle Times newspaper about the challenges of finding a therapy that works for me and learning that I was on the Autism Spectrum at age 36.
Days in a Life is a post set in a challenging time in my life, right after I had finally had sex for the first time and was a virgin no more. My cat Coco wasn’t doing well either, and I was worried she might have had a UTI. I was freaking out and was sure something was wrong with me too. You’ll have to read the post to find out. Unfortunately, I haven’t had sex since.
And finally, Long covid. In about 10 days, it will be a year since I caught covid and I haven’t recovered. While the severity of sickness has improved slowly since I’m not the same person physically, I was a year ago. If you haven’t gotten the covid vaccine or the latest booster yet, please do. You don’t want this disability. I wasn’t able to blog for long periods due to this disease. I can barely exercise without becoming so exhausted that I need to go home and sleep. There’s no cure. There are treatments, but that isn’t a guarantee because it’s basically throwing shit at a wall. Even if there will be treatments, I bet it will be expensive and not covered by insurance in America. Which is the case with conditions that do have medical solutions such as ADD or diabetes.
It’s 36 degrees Fahrenheit outside today. It’s been cold and snowing all week, and last night was an ice storm.
I called out one day this week because I felt unsafe driving to work. My Prius spins out in normal conditions; I’m not going to risk driving on ice. I may need new tires. It’s probably how the car is. I drive safely and maintain it, and the mileage is about 69k.
I’m waiting on whether or not work will be open today. One more hour and the boss will give the word. That said, I’m leaning on staying home for safety because conditions haven’t changed much since 730am.
Today is a metaphor for how I’ve felt about my life outside of work. Frozen in place, surrounded by ice.
Burned out
I’m thriving at work, getting attention for working hard, and pushing myself to do things that I’ve never done at any job before, and I’m proud of myself for that. Proud but exhausted.
In the past month, I’ve: written 4 SOPS or standard operating procedures for work and writing a draft for two more. I can do this now because of my strong relationships with my department lead, boss, and ownership. There’s mutual trust and respect. This is possible because I stuck with this company when times were tough earlier in the year. This is possible. After all, I bet on myself because I chose to respond to situations differently than I had in the past. I decided not to give up.
I’m in charge of planning a Holiday Potluck Party for next month. I’m excited about that while being worried about it being a super spreader covid event 1 year after I got covid at a Pizza party I threw at work. I’m so tired of being worried about covid… This time will be different. I will do everything I can to prevent this from happening again.
Along with this, I’m making friends at work! Didn’t think it would be possible to be friends with a boss and have professional boundaries.
I’m successful. Finally! Despite this long-ass journey to find secure work, I’m successful because I’ve worked hard in therapy, despite years of struggling to find that too. All this persistence is paying off. Next month will be 1 year since I became a manager. My time was short as a manager. However, I’m content being an assistant manager.
Long-term, career-wise, I don’t want to own my own business or manage people as a life. I don’t know what I want to do, and that’s okay. I could manage a small group of people in the future like I’m doing now, but I’d prefer not to. It’s not a strength, and my social battery drains fast.
Physically I can’t be a full-time manager. I can’t because of long covid. Next month will be a year since I caught covid, and I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I might have this for the rest of my life. Maybe it will heal on its own like some who have long covid. Possibly there will be a cure. For now, I have to live with it. I am doing better compared to earlier in 2022… But it’s a daily thing to manage.
I’ve been getting by this month, getting home, watching anime, and going to bed early.
I shouldn’t be dating right now.
I’ve had some time to reflect on how I’m living and showing up outside of work, and I don’t enjoy seeing how I am.
I go to work and come home to watch an anime show, tv show, or movie I’ve watched several times before for comfort while browsing Instagram and occasionally playing with Coconut or playing video games.
I’ve let myself go, and I’m over 240 pounds… The heaviest I’ve ever weighed. It’s no wonder, considering how unhealthy I eat.
At the same time, I have to acknowledge that I am a disabled person because of Long Covid. Next month will be a year since I caught Covid. I have a chronic illness that doesn’t have a cure and might never ever have a cure. Medicines and treatments might be on the way, but I can’t control that. I am hopeful that treatments and drugs will come because I don’t want to pray for bad things to happen. Until then, I have to accept that it is my life. I’ve become a different person than I was a year ago. I haven’t come to terms with that.
I was browsing DuckDuckGo, searching various phrases, and I found this article by Dr. Nerdlove titled “How Do I Date When I Have A Disability?“ that I came up with as a related blog post at the end of “5 Times When You Shouldn’t Be Dating”. The original article is helpful, but it didn’t nail why I’ve felt this unique frustration that I have felt this year and the past couple of years. I should be taking a date from dating, but I didn’t know why. I can’t change if I don’t understand the problem. Knowing why helps me challenge anxious or depressing thoughts that come up. Knowing why helps me set boundaries and be mindful of when I need self-care. The article is much longer and has a bunch of helpful gems in it, but for the sake of this blog post, I feel this portion nails how I feel:
“I wonder – and you’ll have to tell me if I’m wrong about this – if part of the problem is that you’re still in the adjustment period. I mean, come on, you just had your life blown apart in a way that’s changed everything for you. Yeah, it’s been three years, but that’s less than a tenth of your life; you had thirty years of living life one way, then suddenly having to change almost everything. That’s not a lot of time to come to terms, to mourn or to build the new systems that work for you. And while I have no doubt that you’re a magnificent badass with the heart of a volcano and the passion of a thousand burning suns in your soul, even Lucifer needed time to say “well…. fuck” after hitting the ground.
So it may be worth looking inward and seeing if you’re still holding yourself to standards – the “good working order” – that are literally impossible any more. Acknowledging your disability doesn’t mean you’re “not in good working order”, it means recognizing that you have a new reality and you need to adapt to it. Being upset at how your life changed and what you’ve had to give up – at least for now – doesn’t mean you’re not fit to share your life with anyone. Acknowledging that you’re lonely and feeling isolated and wanting more doesn’t mean that you’re not fit to date, it means you’re dealing with some shit.
“But it’s been three years!” I hear you cry. “Treatment and therapy hasn’t helped.”
OK… but are you sure that the therapy you’ve been getting is what you need? Is it possible that maybe you don’t have the right therapist? Or, hear me out: is it possible that you’re trying to fit into an able-bodied framework when you simply aren’t abled anymore?”
November 23rd, 2003, My father died in a car crash
Music of the post: Father Time by Kendrick Lamar ft Sampha
Two nights before, he sat us down at the kitchen table and said that he had a problem with drinking.
He said that he was going to stop because he had a problem.
He seemed sincere… But…
I was 17, so I didn’t know how to react. My first reaction was to be skeptical. I’d seen this play out before with my addict aunt—his sister.
I had long given up on needing anything from him after him being a lifelong alcoholic. From him being a shitty father.
I didn’t know then, but it would be the last time I’d see him again.
After work that night, in the middle of the night of the 23rd, he went to a bar with coworkers. The accounts given there, say that he only had one drink. Later confirmed by a blood alcohol test.
Like the many times he did before… He drove drunk.
He had been in multiple car accidents in the past, which I didn’t know about until recently after a conversation about addiction patterns on my dad’s side with my mother.
The vehicles he drove were a reflection of how he lived life.
Used, beat up junk vans with hundreds of thousands of miles on them, near death, poorly maintained.
He was a carpet and floor installer. He needed a van to store the materials he needed for work.
Always a junker from the 80s or earlier, each van being replaced yearly or more.
He ran his life, his vans on eggshells.
Booze came first.
There always was something wrong with his cars.
If he faced his problems earlier, if he stopped drinking he easily could have afforded repairs for the brakes, other engine problems, or simply buy a car that isn’t an excuse to avoid his personal problems.
A reflection of what was wrong with him.
He drank to cover up his problems. He drank to not deal with his shit. He drank to escape.
He was yet another addict in the chain of generational trauma. Of family dysfunction.
To my grandparents credit, they stopped drinking and smoking cigarettes late in life after my addict aunt caught aids.
I don’t know if anyone went to therapy, I suspect not.
I suspect not because of what I know about addiction, codependency, trauma, grief, and generational trauma.
This ends with me.
Maybe I am so comfortable working at a cannabis company because of this. Hm.
That night.
That last van was a death wish. It had a couple different engine problems which caused it a constant screech, and the brakes barely worked.
He drove home from the bar in Sodo, next to the Home Depot where he worked in the flooring department.
On his last drink.
The accident happened on top of Beacon hill, which is a couple miles from our house.
He died instantly from a broken spine.
Maybe he could have survived if he had maintained the brakes on his van. Perhaps he could have survived if he had a seatbelt made past the 1980s design on his van. But he didn’t. He chose these risks on top of driving drunk. He put himself and us, his family because he chose to run away from his problems.
Until he embodied being a living problem. As said in modern therapy terms, he was a danger to himself and others.
Another driver was disabled due to the accident crash. There was a third car involved, but I guess they were okay. More on this later.
Seattle Police came to our house, knocked on the door and told my mother what had happened.
My dad was in a car accident crash and died.
Later fragments
The morning after, my Aunts on my mom’s side came over. It was that day that I was old enough to understand, and know first hand… What it feels like to have your father die suddenly. My grandfather on my moms side died in his 40s from heart disease when my aunts were teenagers and my mom was young.
It was comforting to hear from my late Aunt Ann that they knew what it felt like to be where we were. That we would get through this hard time. And though I’m not religious, it was comforting for my Uncle Gene to lead everyone there in prayer, asking for grace from God. (I wish I could have told this story at her funeral last year.)
I was told to call my friends to tell them what happened. I managed but was traumatized for a long time after. I was only able to heal in therapy about ten years later.
After those calls, my brother and I decided to go to a friend’s house for a few days.
I felt like a stranger at Dad’s funeral. It was a decent-sized crowd at the act theater where it was hosted. (Grandma had connections in the Art community through her corporate job at Safeco Insurance). I wasn’t that sad because he had died. I barely knew the man, and he was emotionally unavailable or distant from my brother and me. I was sad for others there that I knew were sad about his passing. Because of their Alcohol addiction and many personal problems, he never dealt with them.
The consequences
As a result of dads blood alcohol level being at or just under the state legal limit at that time, he was deemed at fault for the crash.
The driver who was disabled because of the crash, sued my mother. Which led to an 8-year-long lawsuit for everything we had.
For eight years, I didn’t know what would happen. Even though my mother dealt with the majority of the shit involved, for that entire period, I didn’t know if we would become homeless or be forced to move to another state just so our family had a place to live. There wasn’t much I could do to help since I was in high school and then going to college.
I had no idea what this person looked like. I don’t know their name. All I knew was that he was a threat to my family and our survival due to spite. Yes, my dad was at fault for him being in a wheelchair and breaking bones. The injured guy did recover, and didn’t have any worse injuries. However, to sue the family for everything and spend years chasing it is messed up.
The lawsuit ended because the bastard died of a heart attack, which was in 2011. That was when I was finally able to start grieving. It took several more years and several therapists before I could process that grief.
I obsessively read all I could with the limited information and the internet to teach myself about being a man and psychology. But since I struggled to find a consistent therapist, progress was slow. Or there wasn’t any. I was stuck in a swamp and needed help. Eventually, I got it.
One story I learned about my dad is that he once went to therapy in the 80s. But, he acted strangely and later on said that he made up what he said to the therapist he saw, which made me so mad when I heard about it.
More on my experience with therapy in this post below.
It took until 2020, to try dozens of different medicines for ADD, Depression, adding many supplements, reading lots of self help articles and books, psychedelic mushrooms used therapeutically, cannabis, and not giving up on therapy to get to where I am today.
I still have healing to do. Im not perfect, and I make mistakes.
I only feel down regarding dad this time of the year. I think of him as examples of who I don’t want to be.
I take care of myself; I am mindful of my mental health. My biggest life goal is to end this chain of dysfunction.
Therapy tips and helpful information
Attached by Amir Levine & Rachel Heller
No more Mr Nice Guy by Robert Glover, The body keeps the score by Bessel A. van der kolk
The dreamer and the fantasy relationship by Natalie Lue
The six pillars of self esteem by Dr. Nathaniel Branden
Complex PTSD by Pete Walker
Dating Greatly by Brene Brown
Man’s search for meaning by Viktor Frankl
Codependent no more by Melony Beattie
Healing from a narcissistic relationship by Margalis Fjelstad
Late bloomers by Rich Karlgaard.
All of the above are on audible. Most of these I’ve read twice.
Source, how I have felt lately. Image of a recently burned tree, exposing its vascular tissue. Maybe this is why I’ve been eating so much pasta in recent days.
Dearly beloved We are gathered here today To get through this thing called life -Prince
It’s no wonder I’ve been burned out… It seems to be something I’ve experienced around August for the past three years. See these posts:
The above gif and prince song are a metaphor for my life this month. The arrows are emotional.
I’m covered in arrows, in pain, from multiple sources.
My brother has had a severe back injury that he can’t get treated for due to legal complications. A double trigger due to dad dying almost 20 years ago in a car accident… Which resulted in a lawsuit against our family. This wasn’t my brother’s fault, thankfully. It’s tough to see him suffering. On top of that, he caught covid. He recovered, but it was a tough couple of weeks there.
My mother is recovering from an accident at work which resulted in her going to the ER to get stitches. She’s doing better now but still healing from bruises. That was tough to see her hurt. Especially since she’s getting older, she’s still a go-getter.
Naturally I’ve been worried about both of them.
The quest for inner peace, to heal
I have been exhausted this month. Between my family being injured, the heat, being isolated, and grief. I think I’m finally in the last stages of healing from my past major breakups.
Me lately in this heatwave.
I’m not sure if I still have long covid, or all this mental and physical fatigue is from recent events or depression.
It’s a great thing that I’m in therapy again. It will be better going forward because I’m on viibryd, an antidepressant again.
I’ve had trouble writing so I’m going to do something different here and express myself in pictures since my head hurts trying to think.
Various mental health pictures that describe me lately…
I hope that soon I will not feel awful and be able to write longer posts. Sometimes your health comes first, and when you have a chronic illness such as Long covid, and unpredictable migraines, the only thing you can do is take care of yourself.
Here is a post that doesn’t have many views, but is one I treasure. It’s about my late cat Flip, who was a dear kitty that was part of my life for 18 years.
It’s been a long time since I feel I did something trophy worthy.
I can’t remember the last time I felt so good.
I’m starting to feel fantastic positive feelings as a result of writing that essay. I achieved a goal I wanted. This victory shows that I am capable of so much more. This shows that all the inner work I’ve done has paid off.
This blog post is part 3 of a series of posts about this experience
I have an article in a newspaper! I told my story and hopefully will help change the world for the better. Holy shit. That’s a big deal!
This is evidence of how great a writer I could be. I had a lot of help from the Seattle Times journalist. This situation shows me that I can grow as a writer. I stood up and spoke out about problems in the mental health system. I’ll be helping someone else struggling. It feels good to help others by speaking up.
What a big deal! …
Follow up details
I need to add details to the last post and the article. I didn’t mean to overlook these details. Ever have that feeling after a conversation where you remember something after the fact? That’s been me since Monday.
I did have successes in therapy. I feel I discounted how much of an impact therapy has had when it does work. I was able to work through so much with my therapist and everyone at Sound.
They had great groups and any support you needed. I can’t say enough how grateful I am to Sound Mental Health in this therapy journey. Life from April 2020 to June 2021 was good. That’s because I was in therapy. That’s because the zoom groups were so great. Those kept me going despite the lockdown social distance phase of the pandemic. I attempted to return for treatment there; however, they only take Medicaid. Disappointing that I couldn’t continue… But I get it. Those on Medicaid who need therapy need great providers the most. Just as I did during my time there.
Groups were helpful and supportive at Valley Cities while I was there. I really enjoyed the activities and the people. The employee turnover and changing therapists was too much for me. I wish I could have found that therapist match there. Oh well. I got some helpful skills out of this disappointment.
Back in 2009, I had a favorable year-long therapy treatment that helped. We worked through PTSD I was experiencing then. A year later, I recovered from PTSD through exposure therapy. It’s what I needed at the time.
Ah… I should have accepted the suggestion by the reporter to say something positive about therapy. I hope I didn’t mislead anyone about my experience. Therapy can help. It is maddening to get that help you need.
My problem has been how hard it was to get started, get comfortable, and progress in therapy. It’s been a long roller coaster ride I didn’t want. I was frustrated because now I know how it feels to be healed. What it feels like to have your work pay off. I have become better. I’ve become a better man. I never thought life could feel so fulfilling. I forgot how success feels to achieve something difficult with persistence and hard work. Therapy became my higher power. The dream is to heal all the trauma, fix the suffering as a side effect of mental illness, and break the line of generational trauma.
I’m not big on faith or spirituality, so posting thus is significant.
I’m choosing to take this as proof that I have grown as a person. I’m enough of an adult to take care of myself by finding a therapist. I know that I can follow through and win. I know there is more to dream about. I know that I want more from life.
I wouldn’t be here without therapy, psychology, the internet, and not giving up despite the heartbreak. All the therapists and social workers all the way. I didn’t give up at my lowest. I somehow held on. I wouldn’t be here without all the excellent support from my aunts and uncles on my mom’s side of the family. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have my cousins. I wouldn’t be here without blogging. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have my cats. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have my mom or brother. I wouldn’t be here with my friends. I am here because I had so much support along the way. The pandemic has shown how many good people I have in my life.
This is a victory for my values. A concept I learned with my previous therapist. This is a life-changing victory on all levels for me. I am more capable than I ever thought possible. I stood up for better mental health. I stood up for better healthcare. I stood up for civil rights. I stood up for personal accountability. I did it because it felt like the right thing to do.
I’m back in the arena, ready for the next mountain to climb.
I’ve become a published writer in a big publisher!
I’m the first family member to be published in the Northwest section of the Seattle Times! My mother, the poet, hasn’t done this. She’s been writing for 40-plus years. My cousins won state championships in high school basketball but they never did this. Nobody on either side of my family has achieved this.
I have made it, and the 15 minutes of fame are over. It was nice while it lasted. I’m grateful to have wrote that. I’m grateful for the experience.
I’m back from my break! The heatwave last week sure drained me. The break was just what I needed, and I know what I need going forward. Without further ado, here is A Unique Opportunity, Part 2.
Songs of the post: All My Life, My Hero By the Foo Fighters.
A couple months ago in April, I wrote to my local newspaper for an article pitch.
The Seattle Times has a series of articles about mental health called The Mental Health project where they ask the local community about their experiences…
“The Mental Health Project is a Seattle Times initiative focused on covering mental and behavioral health. The project illuminates a growing mental health crisis in the Seattle region, Washington state and beyond. It explores the many types of mental illness people experience, spotlights promising treatments and research, and examines actions by government agencies, nonprofits and health providers to address the problem.
Evidence points to worrying signs of a mental health crisis in the Northwest, across the country and around the world, exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic, economic fallout and the nation’s racial reckoning. The rise in anxiety is straining schools, legal systems and social services, and disproportionately hitting vulnerable people, including people of color. In the Puget Sound region, Seattle Children’s has seen a concerning increase in visits for psychiatric emergencies, and schools are grappling with the effects of trauma and stress on students’ ability to learn. Adding to the challenge: a shortage of therapists and other options for treatment.
The Mental Health Project explores these issues and more. The project is funded by Ballmer Group, a national organization focused on economic mobility for children and families. Seattle Times editors and reporters operate independently of our funders and maintain full editorial control over all coverage.
Our team — editor Diana Samuels, reporters Hannah Furfaro and Esmy Jimenez, and engagement editor Michelle Baruchman — welcomes the community’s help in guiding and informing our coverage. Please email any thoughts, tips or story ideas to mentalhealth@seattletimes.com, share them on Twitter at @stmentalhealth, or leave a voicemail at 206-464-2090.
Back in April, on 4/20/22 (Omg, both the classic stoner holidayandAutism Awareness month! I find this funny because I am both Autistic and a Stoner. I never noticed until today… Haha), I wrote to their project email account, pitching an article idea. I had read an article in the Seattle times newspaper about feeling anxious about returning to the office. I decided to take a chance and write to them about my experience in the mental health system. An Autism-centered story proposal- The lack of formal diagnosis tools for adults. I honestly didn’t expect my story pitch to be accepted… let alone published.
That week was so stressful, A classic Murphy’s Law week where what could go wrong, did. I was home after getting awful side effects from the Moderna booster shot. I felt called to write this article because of my past experience and it felt like the right thing to do. I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t take the chance to make it happen and possibly make the world a better place.
The Article after this awesome quote by Terrance McKenna, and drawn into a comic by Gavin Aung Than.
I’m 36, and it wasn’t until two years ago that I was diagnosed with autism. I was lucky to even find out.
The years before involved multiple therapists that didn’t work, medication that gave me bad side effects, and misdiagnoses. Navigating insurance was a constant struggle.
The first psychiatrist I saw prescribed amphetamine medication for ADHD. That medication resulted in three heart attacks at age 22. Another psychiatrist prescribed two dozen different medications. Only one worked for ADHD, but my insurance didn’t cover it so I couldn’t afford it. I can only take it now because there is a generic form available.
It was hard for me to connect with therapists because I didn’t know how therapy worked, what kinds of treatment are available and that it’s based on developing comfortable, trusting relationships.
I later sought help from the mental health organization Valley Cities. I went through several therapists there with no success. One left for another job, one finished her internship for college, and a couple just weren’t a good fit for my needs.
It was also around this time that I started to believe I may be on the autism spectrum. No other diagnosis was fitting completely; depression, anxiety and ADHD only partially explained the behaviors and symptoms I had in social situations. Information I found online showed me that I did have some traits and could be on the spectrum.
I asked my Valley Cities therapist at the time what I had to do to be tested. She said the only testing available was designed for children and teens, and I would have to go to Children’s hospital in Seattle or search online for a test. This is like asking a person with a broken leg to go buy new bandages and medical supplies on their own, without help.
I gave up in frustration and despair. Medication somewhat worked, but the side effects were awful. And although therapy groups were helpful, I needed an individual therapist I could trust. I had been spinning my wheels and not feeling or seeing improvement in my life. My faith in the system was shattered.
Meanwhile, I needed to work full time to pay bills, so I took a job as a cook, which meant I had to give up my Washington state Medicaid coverage. Suddenly, everything that had been covered through Apple Health, including therapy, medication, doctor visits and sleep studies, was in peril. The cheapest, lowest-coverage insurance was all I could afford on minimum-wage work.
The early days of the pandemic, and the months leading up to it, were excruciating with few moments of joy.
My 18-year-old cat died, I lost my job, and the pandemic ended the board game night I attended at a friend’s house. I was smoking too much marijuana, and drinking too often. I was close to attempting suicide. I was toxic in a breakup with a friend who didn’t deserve it, which was the last straw.
I asked my mother to bring me to the hospital. The therapist at Swedish referred me to Sound Mental Health. I’m grateful that I chose to try therapy one more time, despite years of mixed results, because finally, luck went my way. I was assigned a therapist after a consultation who could treat me. As we continued working together, I began trusting her and we clicked.
On my third appointment, I asked about getting screened for autism. My therapist at Sound found a test for children and teens and asked me a series of questions, although some weren’t relevant for my age. I found out I am autistic the week of my 34th birthday in April, which also happens to be Autism Awareness Month.
Finding out was a relief because I now have something to work off of, and I know why I behave a certain way or struggle in social situations.
With a guide and stable professional support, I spent the pandemic working on myself full time. Therapy over Zoom worked for me. I met my Sound therapist in person at a park last summer for our final visit.
These days, I’m doing better. I’m in the process of self discovery and self awareness with autism. I am seeing a new therapist through Kaiser to work on the skills I began developing and practicing in 2021, and I smoke less weed and drink less alcohol than I did two years ago.
I do sometimes wonder if I’m having brief setbacks because I felt more comfortable during the lockdown than I do in the regular world.
But I’m also thinking about how long this process took.
It’s hard enough to find a therapist who accepts your insurance, accepts new clients, and has availability during the day that fits around work schedules. How am I supposed to grow as a person on the spectrum when autism in adults doesn’t have a formal guide of how it presents, and how to fit in?
There needs to be more research on autism in adults. It’s odd that I had to find out myself by looking online. Autism presents itself differently at every age group. By not having this knowledge for adults, we are causing unnecessary harm by misdiagnosing medical conditions.
Reilly Anderson lives in Seattle and works in the cannabis industry.
Thank you for reading this post, and this article! If you enjoyed this, please subscribe and comment below!
I just made the same mistake twice and over-shared on a blog post. I took that post down now. I had a bad feeling and reread that post. I was disgusted. That post could have caused problems. I’m was best to trash it. Something just didn’t feel right. Maybe I’m overthinking again.
I’m sorry about that.
I need a break from blogging. A mental health break from blogging. I need to clear my head. Been a lot going on with my family. I’m scraping by mentally. Feeling emotionally exhausted.
I have some therapy assignments as a new weekly goal. Going to the park twice a week, going to meetup.com, and more. I’m doing this for my own sake. I chose to commit again to therapy. I’m in therapy to heal, learn, and change. I need to remind myself that this is what I want.
I made a private family matter, public. I’ve felt bad about blogging by oversharing.
I forgot to consider how that would feel to read by someone involved. That isn’t right, and I would be upset.
I made a mistake, and need to apologize.
I’m sorry.
That should have been private. I won’t do that again.
Life sure is tough right now, huh? 🙂
I wish there was something I could do to help.
This situation is triggering…
It’s got me thinking about the past. How I could’ve handled situations better.
Remembering past breakups, thinking about if I could have said things better. Been a better man who could communicate. How could I been better as a man. Thinking how I could have been mature.
Work is amazing. It’s consistent, everyone is great to work with, I like my job though it’s repetitive. I feel like I belong. I’m becoming comfortable being social. I’m grateful to have this.
Social life
Work being a rock allows me to cope with my lack of social life… It’s time. I’ll be looking for an in person group on meetup.com Time to go out and safely socialize.
Well, this isn’t true. I did go out to see comedian Ron Funches live at the Neptune theater in Seattle last Saturday. That is the first time I’ve ever gone out to see a standup comedian at a theater…. Never thought of doing that before, and the show was hilarious. It was Ron Funches and 3 comedians I forgot the names to (sorry!😬)… The opening comics were funny too, it was interesting to see the contrast of comedic styles between them.
So, keep moving forward… You are progressing in life. There is hope and good things in your life. You’re doing great handling everything. Its been a long week.
July 4th. American Independence day weekend. I don’t feel like celebrating.
Living in America feels like a bad dream. A never-ending nightmare of bad news. Yeah, there was that legislation to improve gun safety. But will it really change anything? I doubt it. It feels like another feel-good, a little too late, a middle-ground bill that pleases nobody… And the violence continues. We really need young people in charge. We really need non-corporate slaves in charge. Voting Republican isn’t a solution. Their goal is to create more problems. Way too many were cheering when January 6th happened when America almost became a fascist state.
I’m tired of Joe Biden being a caretaker president. Nothing has changed. His best argument when running was that his long record as a Senator would help him pass legislation through our deadlocked (by republicans) congress. That hasn’t happened. Sure, he has signed many Executive Orders, but those will be canceled by the next eventual republican. We gave him a good shot to get things done, to make big changes… And it hasn’t happened. I’m not voting for him again. I’m so tired of getting my hopes up with politicians only to be disappointed.
So far, he’s been the “Not Trump” candidate.
We need an actual liberal as president. Who isn’t another corporatist wearing a democrat mask? We need leadership that will be alive after their time as president is over, so they must live through the consequences. We need a president who hasn’t lived in the DC bubble, has worked a regular job for a living recently and is not wealthy. I love Bernie Sanders, but the man has done enough for the US. AOC would be a good choice for any of The Squad. There aren’t enough women holding office anyway. It’s embarrassing that we still haven’t had a woman as president. It’s fucking time.
I’m so grateful to live in Washington state. I wonder if things will improve in my lifetime here in America. It sure doesn’t look like the corporate hold over this country will soon disappear. Problems keep piling up, and these piecemeal, half-ass (aka middle ground) solutions won’t cut it any longer. So no, I won’t be celebrating this independence day weekend. Because we, as a country, are dependent on capitalism and corporations. As long as wealth exists, there will never be true equality. Never because some person will be able to be above another.
What am I supposed to do when I can be outspent by some rich person who can donate more money than I will make in my entire life? What am I supposed to do when those same rich assholes own news companies and can indoctrinate millions into what they want? My one vote only goes so far. I can only convince so many people. What am I supposed to do when a group of appointed assholes makes decisions based on their beliefs and not the law? Do we even need the supreme court? Do I even want to be an American?
I’m so exhausted from watching this country slowly disintegrate from a democracy to some nightmare straight out of 1984.
Also, fuck fireworks. They are loud and noisy everywhere these days. They cause pollution. Most of the time, they are set off late at night on a random day and time when you’re trying to sleep, just like a car alarm going off. Of all the amazing things in life, and this modern world, seeing or buying fireworks is the last thing I want to do.
Fireworks’ long history in a nutshell. 😑
Alright, enough complaining. Here are things I can celebrate.
I opened the WordPress app today and saw that the all-time views passed 5000! Wow! That’s a big deal for a personal blog like this! I’ll take it!
I dropped the ball on the 1000 likes landmark and should’ve celebrated it sooner. It happened with this post:
I’ve blogged about it quite a bit. I keep talking about it, but I am not moving forward. Well, not quite. Last week, I began seeing a therapist again. I started seeing a life coach. My scrolling Instagram for hours is paying off because most of that time is spent watching therapy-related reels and images.
I went and saw my buddy on Saturday. He’s going through a hard time, and it’s tough to see him in pain. I’m grateful to have been there for him. That I do have him as a friend.
Feels like everyone is struggling these days…
Since I started in March 2020, the hardest part of this journey has been to pick myself up from rock bottom as my life started over at that time. Relationships changed. People changed. I changed. Life changed. So much so that I’m still adjusting to this new normal.
I had to learn the hard way that the only person to save me is myself. It’s okay to ask for help. Or for support. The bottom line is that I have to be the person to do so. Others do want to help. Others want to be in your life. However, you have to advocate and be there for yourself. It’s part of being an adult. To be healthy.
Despite all the difficulties, there are little things to celebrate. So that’s something… Guess I got that going for me. 😑🙃
I’d like to thank everyone who has taken the time to stop by this blog, read these posts, comment, and like them. I appreciate it. It makes my day. Doing so makes me feel not alone because others connect with my writing. It’s the one way I feel connected to the world and others. It’s hard to cope when I take a lot of time to write, edit, and advertise a post and few people read it. Please continue to stop by.
Song of the post, United in Grief by Kendrick Lamar
(I’ve been listening to this album on repeat, it’s a new favorite and I captured this moment in time perfectly.)
I’m seeking a new mountain and life goals because I feel stuck. A couple posts ago, in Existential Blog Crisis (linked below), I wrote that I thought it was time to overhaul the blog.
TLDR summary: I don’t feel the blog name fits anymore. I chose it in March 2020 without much thought because I needed to write. I had a need to be seen, heard, and written. I didn’t take too long to choose a website name because I knew I’d overthink so much that I would procrastinate. I chose a basic free theme, later changed the music to the current theme (not digging it anymore), and here we are today. Also, I did some SEO and learned about it along the way.
The problem now…
I’m not sure what I want. Am I ready for this? Ready for a different blog? For a different life?
Am I really mature enough?
Am I really ready for more? I didn’t feel prepared for a relationship until last week with the breakup.
I should be happy. All I do is exist… In the background.
Am I ready for a different life?
I need help, and I don’t want to be isolated anymore.
I’m not happy with my life.
I’m tired of “just existing.”
I don’t mind being by myself. I’d just like some company.
The state of the world has worn me out.
Why can’t I break free to a better life? To be a better person. I’m tired of feeling like shit because I’m insecure.
I feel like a teenager trapped in an adult body. Yet, I’m alone.
I’ve been running from the few women I connect with online.
No wonder I’m going crazy.
I’m both of the following:
The Love Addict If you were abandoned as a child (physically or emotionally), you will likely carry deep fear of abandonment as an adult. Having been abandoned, it’s also probable you have no prior experience with healthy intimacy.
So you may desperately crave intimacy but also be terrified of not knowing how to do it. The safest bet then becomes wildly chasing after people who are emotionally unavailable or don’t know how to cultivate a healthy connection.
“The Love Avoidant If you were enmeshed by a parent who used you to meet their emotional needs, you learned that closeness is manipulative, conditional, selfish, overwhelming, and unenjoyable in many ways.
An enmeshing parent also abandons the child emotionally, so the child concludes that
Others can’t be trusted to meet my needs Intimacy is smothering, and I’ll take care of my damn self, thank you very much You ain’t gotta be a crystal ball reader to know how this story ends. These people live and die behind various walls of productiveness, aloofness, silence, anger, fear, or cordial superficiality.
Although they crave love like everyone else, they frequently tie themselves up in work or various other addictions. That way, they never have to revisit the painful challenge of genuine human connection.
Love Avoidants are often quite intelligent, mature, likable, and otherwise successful people who date Love Addicts or other unhealthy people they can easily manipulate to safely keep the upper hand.”
I’m short; I’m crazy. Thankfully I’m in therapy again. Maybe I’ll finally be free. I’ll break through this languishing… Finally, I’ll break out of this emotional prison. (Did I make this?)
Should I be around others? Or will my toxicity make their lives worse, like how I have made people’s lives worse in the past? To say: look at that loser, look at that asshole! Stay away from him!
Is my purpose in life to be a negative example to others? ☹️
Is my purpose for suffering?
Maybe I am a monster.
I’m tired of being a loser. I’m tired of being an NPC.
I think I upset an online friend, and I don’t know why. I might be personalizing posts and making a problem out of nothing. Reading into a situation that isn’t there. Or the piece was written about someone else.
I might have missed a good thing, a lovely lady who could’ve been interested and isn’t because I missed signs of interest. Did I mislead someone? Did my lack of confidence push her away? All because I couldn’t believe she would like me the way I am right now?
What have I done?
I hope it’s not too late.
😦
I don’t deserve better because pebbles feel like mountains
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