Tag Archives: Mental Health

Struck by Seratonin Syndrome

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I’m back, but out of work on Paid Family Medical Leave

Thank my state for being civilized with paid medical leave. An outlier in the US.

Since the second week of February, I’ve been experiencing new strange symptoms. Some went away, such as increased dry mouth, thirst, and excessive sweating while sleeping. Some symptoms did not. The concerning ones stayed.

My brief history of prescription medications

As a man long familiar with prescription medication, I am all too familiar with the risks from side effects. Prescription drugs and specialized support in preschool saved me from a seizure disorder I had as a toddler. I haven’t had a seizure since. Thankfully.

The only other time I needed medical attention was began seeing a psychiatrist for help and was prescribed Vivance, an amphetamine medication used to treat ADD. It caused me to have a heart attack in my early twenties. Worse yet, when my mother called him to tell him what happened, he coldly said: “What do you want me to do.”

After recovering with no damage to my heart and healthy results from tests on my heart, I tried again with a different psychiatrist. I discovered that I had severe chest pain or other similar heart attack-like symptoms with every other amphetamine-type medicine for ADD. In 2010, there were two nonamphetamines ADD medicine options (the exact same as the day, to my knowledge), Strattera and Guanfacine. The former didn’t help. While the latter did help, it wasn’t generic. It wasn’t covered by insurance (Typical because insurance companies play these games to make a profit over helping people. AND add insult to injury and tell you to try medications you’ve already tried before.)… Which meant it was $150 a month in 2010 dollars. I couldn’t afford it until two years later at Washington Apple Health.

After changing jobs and careers a couple times I learned first hand how screwed up insurance companies are with coverage regarding medicines. Whatever they say the cost of prescriptions is on your plan (with the exception of Washington Apple Health which is state Medicaid and covers stuff 100%) is a lie. Often they say they cover non generic, but try to fill it and they decide they don’t want to because it’s “too expensive” aka not profitable. (This is the case Even if you are paying for private insurance). Even if it’s the only medicine that works for you. The only place to get the actual price is to ask a pharmacist outside of your insurance what the out of pocket price is. No matter the insurance company or coverage, the bullshit was the same. It is confusing, deliberately made to be hard to understand your coverage, and if you have a serious accident, you go into debt. Lots of jobs tie insurance to it. Lose your job in most states and you lose coverage. If you are poor in America, you’re fucked.

Back to the future

2023. All these years later on my personal mental health journey for sanity and I’m still struggling with the same stuff as 13 years ago. That is to say, to find a medicine to treat depression that won’t kill me, or makes my life worse than before taking it. I’m glad to say that Guanfacine works to treat the ADD I have and became generic a couple of years ago, so it is affordable. My struggle with antidepressants continues.

What is Seratonin Syndrome?

“Serotonin is a chemical that the body produces naturally. It’s needed for the nerve cells and brain to function. But too much serotonin causes signs and symptoms that can range from mild (shivering and diarrhea) to severe (muscle rigidity, fever and seizures). Severe serotonin syndrome can cause death if not treated.”

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/serotonin-syndrome/symptoms-causes/syc-20354758#:~:text=Serotonin%20is%20a%20chemical%20that,cause%20death%20if%20not%20treated.

Usually, when googling symptoms online, it’s common to get a worst-case scenario for whatever health-thing you are going through.

In this case, it was true.

I started having these symptoms two weeks after my doctor suggested that increasing the dose of my antidepressant could help with depression. Since I’ve been taking this medication for months without side effects, upping the dose didn’t seem to be a risk.

We were both wrong. While I eventually returned to work on February 22nd, and worked the next day, I had to take Friday off due to a migraine. And despite work helping me out with reasonable accommodations by adding a new policy, and buying me sound-reducing earplugs, and me buying brand new sound-dampening headphones, I had another migraine sick day last week.

So, while these symptoms are diagnosed as serotonin syndrome by my doctor, the noisy environment likely didn’t help. Being autistic and having long covid each make me sensory sensitive.

Therefore, starting today I will be off work under paid medical leave until the 27th to recover. And I didn’t know until today, that I have wait 15 to 20 days to receive this pay. Which is bullshit. The process is annoying when you’re healthy—figuring it out while sick is cruel. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was due to lobbying by the insurance industry. 15 to 20 days for an online application is unacceptable.

Well, I did it and now I have to wait to complete my application. The insurance company won’t (I asked the people at the doctors office). Can’t do anything else.

At least I am able to write again. I physically couldn’t due to headaches.

Even before this happened, I wondered if continuing was worth it. I loathe the SEO process, and having to advertise to get readers and feel that I’ve lost my purpose of blogging. I do not want to do SEO for a living or social media marketing. It feels like this is the only way to get noticed. Reading about how to articles or forums feels like I’m surrounded by snake oil salesman who only care about making money over the content. I lost the few friends I made doing this for different reasons, and its going on three years of blogging. I don’t want to blog for a living.

Does anyone still care about this blog?

The Highs and The Lows of 2022

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2023 written in sand on a beach

Happy New year!

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.

My favorite posts which underperformed:

Close Encounters of the Good Eats kind.

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

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)

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.

The top 3 posts according to readers:

Moving Mountains

This blog post is about a time I felt depressed and down on myself after a recent breakup.

Close, but no Cigar

This post is about my only brief relationship, which happened in June 2022.

Unique Opportunity, Part 2.

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

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.

https://theunknownreillyblog.wordpress.com/2022/09/10/living-with-long-covid/

A Long Shadow over Thanksgiving…

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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.

https://theunknownreillyblog.wordpress.com/2022/08/02/a-unique-opportunity-part-2/

All said, I’m grateful to have turned the corner.

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.
Intergenerational trauma infographic. Understanding how pain is passed down until someone works to heal it.
Ways we numb emotional pain charts.

Unique Opportunity: Epilogue

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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.

https://theunknownreillyblog.wordpress.com/2022/08/02/a-unique-opportunity-part-2/

Part 1:

https://theunknownreillyblog.wordpress.com/2022/05/12/a-unique-opportunity/

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! …

Someone told me "whenever your life is feeling stagnant or as if nothing is happening, that means you're being given the time & space to heal & release the baggage that you cannot carry to where you're meant to go soon..." I haven't looked at shit the same since.

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.

Faith is an act of trust in the unknown. Alan Watts
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.

Source

I’m back to square zero. I gotta figure out the next goal. What do I desire?

Unique Opportunity, Part 2.

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Feel the fear and do it anyway.

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.

This is the Finale of this post from May:

https://theunknownreillyblog.wordpress.com/2022/05/12/a-unique-opportunity/

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.

Seattle Times staff

https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/mental-health/about-the-mental-health-project/

Back in April, on 4/20/22 (Omg, both the classic stoner holiday and Autism 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.

“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering it's a feather bed.” Terence McKenna
From the awesome Zen Pencils. Source.

I was diagnosed with autism at 34. We need more research for adults.

https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/mental-health/i-was-diagnosed-with-autism-at-34-we-need-more-research-for-adults-mental-health-perspectives/

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!

Past posts:

Copyright Reilly Anderson 2022.

I’m taking a blogging break.

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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.

Less time away from my phone will help too.

I need experiences to write about.

Gotta get my groove back.

Year 2 of blogging

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It’s been two years since I started blogging!

My social life is mostly online… And that’s not enough anymore.

I certainly didn’t plan on this, on my social life being this way. Last Thursday, I went to see long time friends and neighbors perform live at a local bar. It’s the first time that I’ve left the house to go to a public place during a busy time in almost a year. It was amazing.

The Marshall family band is classic folk-country and played it before it was cool, and still are master musicians, and still getting better. Nostalgic, comforting, sad, beautiful. They’ve been the soundtrack to my past. A past now bittersweet, and a different life. (If you like, check out their music in the link below)

https://marshallfamilyband.bandcamp.com/

I’ve left to visit family, and my buddy C a couple times, but not in months. Between the fear of catching covid, work becoming my main focus, then getting covid, it’s been a solitary life.

Back in the before times… Before the pandemic, in 2019 (wow that feels so long ago), I was in the process of rebuilding my social life from scratch.

From scratch with friends. Love my family, but everyone needs friends. For a long time, I’ve been like a hermit. Mostly because I was in survival mode. It’s been lonely, as much as I enjoy solitude. Family visits help, but they’re only so often.

I’m online way too much. As much as a boon the pandemic was for personal healing, my social life has been paused. Everyone’s has. If it wasn’t for the social media dominant life due to the pandemic, I wouldn’t have appreciated or noticed how many people that care and like me as I am in my life. Several chapters with people ended. Deaths, and an awful break-up that where I was an asshole. My mistakes, my choices resolved in the worst possible way.

I’m not quite there yet. I still feel weary of public places with lots of people. Or places with close quarters such as grocery stores. Not that I can right now. I’m slowly healing from long covid. I’m excited to go into the world. Yet at the same time being mindful of my physical condition.

Soon.

Unfinished business I want to resolve

Dear neighbors: I’m sorry for the pot clouds I make smoking weed. This is my choice, and I never intended for it to affect others. I didn’t realize it’s been so bad, so long. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve been selfish and didn’t take this into account. I honestly thought the smoke blew east due to how the wind whips around the backyard. This must be really annoying, and I hope that it hasn’t caused any problems. Thank you for being so patient and considerate.

To the neighbor and ex friend who I ghosted, and haunted two years ago: I’m sorry. I feel like I didn’t clearly say this back then. I feel like I left things ambiguous and that’s not fair. I misconstrued your words, and posted parts of it online. I promised to make amends, and broke that promise. I don’t expect us to ever make up, or for things to change. I don’t expect forgiveness. I wish that I could go back and change my behavior. What I did was unacceptable. I was an asshole. I’m not sure if you read those blog posts that are now private or deleted. Even if you never did or never will, and that’s understandable… If there’s anything I missed, I’m sorry for that too. I’m sorry.

This whole situation was a wake up call, and I have worked to improve myself. I haven’t done those things since, and won’t ever again. I will continue to respect your privacy and boundaries, and leave you alone.

I don’t feel like I’ve been a good friend for a couple years.

Once again, that’s on me. I’ve been distant, a flaky communicator, and not put enough effort to making friendships work. Not being emotionally available is a large factor. I wasn’t, but am now because I worked on it. You gotta make social events happen as an adult. Now that I have a consistent work schedule, and there isn’t the incipient threat of the plague, socializing can resume. It still feels weird, even though covid isn’t completely gone, and will be a part of life. That’s life. It goes on, and you learn to cope and grow as you’re in it.

I don’t want to dwell on the past. Ruminating has been a problem I have at times and it’s something I work on with anxiety.

Despite everything, life is alright. Good at times. All of this is because I’ve grown, and value self improvement.

The best thing I can do is to learn, and let go. If I don’t let go, I’ll miss out on the present moment.

Merry Christmas 2021

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Coconut by the Xmas tree.

I’m sorry for disappearing

I’m sorry for not following through on the 10 recipe posts that I promised. I thought I could do this. (I need to start over and plan this out. On a schedule I can reasonably work on) I have professional experience and training doing so. I’m ashamed that once again, I failed. I need help with this mean perfectionist inner voice. I need to get a new therapist… It’s been too long and it’s time.

I didn’t plan this gap of 2+ months without a post. I had two emotional events happen shortly after the previous post. It’s almost 10pm, and I’m writing this on the fly. I feel that I have to post something. I owe it to you.

I obsess over my mistakes and my faults. I haven’t forgiven myself for anything I’ve done wrong. I feel I deserve to suffer and be punished. If I don’t get from others, I punish myself. (Lately I’ve started to talk back to these thoughts saying “Blame yourself once and move on”, a great quote from The Simpsons)I don’t like this part of myself. Or the shadow part of me.

I’m alive, doing great at work, and okay overall. I have zero reason to be afraid of failing there. I work hard, my bosses trust me by giving me special tasks, and they see management potential in me in the future. I even got a small raise, and a bonus for the first time ever.

I should be ecstatic, but I’m worried about the other shoe dropping.

I’m so fucking tired of the pandemic. At least 1 more year of this in the US, and longer for many other countries. Someone I work with tested positive, so I’m worried about that. Everyone wears masks, being vaccinated is required at work, so the odds are low. I’ve had some minor symptoms, but I’m not sure if this is due to covid, my sinuses, or regular work fatigue.

I haven’t had a covid booster shot yet, it’s been about 2 months since the second shot wore off, and I have to wait to get tested again since it’s a holiday weekend. Maybe there’s openings tomorrow.

I’m also exhausted with the state of US politics and the news. It feels like the end of the world… I know this is bad for my mental health, but I feel I can’t stop.

… I need help with my personal life. Not sure where or how to start. I just kinda exist.

Song of the post:

Time to Return to Therapy

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I’ve hit a wall with blogging

Which is: I don’t know what I want. I’m not sure what purpose it serves in my life. Last year, I had many things to work through and express. Now, the biggest problem is why. Why do I blog? Why write? Or the most significant obstacle I have in life… Why do anything?

I know there are answers out there and people who’ve been here before.

More than anything, I’m long past “working hard” on everything. Life feels like an endless carrot on a stick.

I’m tired of never being enough. Never being healthy enough, never making enough money, never being attractive enough to date, and so on.

I’m tired of self improvement. I want to feel enough. Maybe I’ve been isolated far too long. I’m so exhausted from the pandemic.

I’m lonely and don’t trust anyone. (Especially myself)

I’m lonely but love solitude. I want a romantic relationship but feel so unconfident in myself. I want to trust people, but I’m wary of being betrayed, lied to, or taken for granted. I am being hurt again or hurting another person because of my actions.

Despite being vulnerable about my emotional life on the blog, I’m most afraid of being rejected by anyone close after I open up to them.

I can’t be invisible anymore. I was a chameleon for many years, and I refuse to be that anymore. I don’t want to suffer like that. Being average is okay. I want a healthy amount of attention and interaction.

I realized that because of the COVID pandemic, my trust in people in the US and the world has imploded over the vaccine refusal. Over the resistance to wearing masks.

I’m worried about getting COVID-19 from a third of the population, even though I’m fully vaccinated and been careful. I guess, rightfully so after exposure at two different jobs.

I need to return to therapy

Its been 3 months? 4? I honestly can’t remember. This year is fuzzy. Feels like the days blend.

Whenever my last appointment was with my therapist and treatment team… Its been long enough. The original plan was to take a short break to reassess what I needed for treatment. I didn’t know what my health insurance would be like, but now I do. My new plan is in September.

Therapy work list:

  • Trust issues
  • Social anxiety
  • Pandemic PTSD
  • Help with healthy friendships
  • Life coaching
  • Helping me get unstuck from this unsatisfying loop.
  • And many other issues.

I’m tired of having an anonymous life. Tired of not being satisfied with life. Tired of complaining. Ugh.

Man… When will I be fixed?

Thanks for reading!

I’m Back Baby!

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I’ve been away from blogging

(the featured image is of a cherry grown from a tree I planted 10 years ago. It fruited in July. A timely metaphor for this period of time.)

I can’t point to any one reason why I haven’t blogged this past month-plus. Guess the creative tank was empty. I tried to force myself to write a couple of times over the past month…

Last month I installed an app that tracks my phone use. It’s called “StayFree” (I’m not being paid to say this, though I’d sell out too). And my results have been… Embarrassing.

Screenshot of the app Stayfree, showing app use time.

I have a severe internet addiction problem. (Though I guess the app missed all the time I spent listening to audiobooks on audible. I don’t count that time since it’s good for me.) This has been a problem, especially in the past year. But damn. 274 hours?! Oof.

Picture of WordPress app data.
Wow, I expected my total use time to be much lower than 8 hours 😐. I certainly didn’t spend much of that writing.

The content I did write didn’t feel up to par. I don’t know. I’ve felt scattered and unfocused when writing. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself or attached to perfectionist tendencies. (Edit: Today, I cut up and saved the valuable bits. Which became this post)

Whatever it is, I feel like my life is at another transition point. I think a shift to something new.

French Toast, Donny Burgers, Peanut Butter, and Lemon Slushee Weed oh my!

It’s been a bit since the last blog post. (34 days!) I’ve been busy. Well, not that busy… More focused on doing well at my new job. Hyper-focused. I like what I do for work: trimming weed, my coworkers, and the company. (I wish that I could post pictures. I can’t because this is a form of social media. I wonder if it’s okay a)

Eat, work, sleep. Repeat. As for writing, it felt like the creative well was low, and I needed a small break.

Everything is going well, and I’m slowly feeling secure the company will last more than four months. ( I have no reason to see that they’d close or fail. Thanks to anxiety… )

I’m giving it my all, and I am happy to. The company’s goal is to have the best cannabis in the state. It’s a mindset shift. At my last job, they also had high standards for trimming, but you can only do so much with average-quality products. It’s so refreshing to work at a company like this. It’s like a high-end restaurant… Without the soul-destroying stress, heat, or snobbery.

Last week, we were ‘bucking’ to cut cured, dried branches of product to a smaller size for storage, and the workroom smelled like french toast. The kind that uses fake high fructose corn syrup, imitation vanilla extract, butter, and ground cinnamon/nutmeg you can find on a grocery store spice shelf.

A huge perk of working with weed is the aromas. The best stuff or dank can smell like so many things, from diesel, skunk, to flowers, to a tropical island, to french toast. Grown ideally, it sticks to your gloved hands.

Picture of weed in a mason jar. Strain: Peanut Butter Crunch.
Pictured above: Peanut Butter Crunch cannabis. I received this as a sample to smoke. Getting samples is a perk of working in the cannabis industry. Thanks Fire Bros! This strain is available at recreational stores in WA state!

They’ve been around for five years, built a massive new warehouse to grow multiple times more products due to demand, and hired people to meet it.

The work is pleasant yet challenging. I feel it’s opened my mind to a time when I enjoyed being the best I could be. To grow every day at work. I had this at my last weed job too. It’s a very different culture when everyone is in the same building. My previous job was at a branch location. (Except for our growing team. There is a massive warehouse where our weed is grown. It used to be in our building.) It’s a nice change to regularly see the owner and upper management doing whatever needs to be done. They ask how we’re doing. They want feedback for improvement and mean it.

So many green flags, yet I’m paranoid. I’m trying not to worry about the other shoe dropping. I don’t want to lose this job: good people, a good workplace, and good company.

Once again, the coronavirus pandemic has been the antagonist.

https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/vaccines/How-Do-I-Get-a-COVID-19-Vaccine.html

(AKA: Yes, but) I had two separate covid scares week. I felt sick on Monday — fatigue, fever, muscle soreness, and common cold symptoms– so I left work after 45 minutes. I drove to the drive-thru testing center and got a precautionary Covid test to be safe. The test center said the results would be ready in 24-48 hours. So, I had that stress, along with not knowing what was up.

Tuesday morning, the first covid test was negative! What a relief… I’m just sick with a cold. So I took it easy. I had just enough energy to fill my ballot and drop it off at a local community center voting drop box… Driving there in my new car!

I finally have my car! A 2013 Toyota Prius! All thanks to my Dear Aunt M! Love you, Aunt M!

Picture of 2013 prius
Yeah, like that. I’m not comfortable sharing my car yet. This’ll do for now.

Wednesday, I went to work driving by myself in my car for the first time in… like, 7 or 8 years. That whole time I was sharing a car with my mother because it was convenient, and I couldn’t afford another one because of poor mental health and working minimum wage jobs. My mental health has dramatically improved due to therapy and the right mix of medications. If it weren’t for my persistence in my health and good decisions, I would not be in this good spot where I have options. I still have the stuff to work on, but I’m treading water. I’ll take it. With this, I can progress. I am so grateful for all of that.

I worked the day, double-masked for safety. I got through the day but was exhausted. I should have stayed home.

Thursday morning, I turn on my phone and get a message on slack from one of my bosses. Another potential Covid exposure at work on Monday. The appointment was canceled, and everyone who got tested got a sick day. I got tested again and had to wait another 24 hours for a result.

Friday. That morning the result was: Negative! Whew. It seems most of my coworkers tested negative too, which is reassuring. I decided to take Friday off, too, as I wasn’t much better.

In Summary, Two negative covid tests but a bad cold. Waiting for test results is fucking stressful. While we have a mask mandate at work, it could be enforced a bit more. I feel there needs to be a company meeting going over what masks are considered safe (A few coworkers wear neck gaiters, which don’t provide proper protection) and how to properly wear a mask (Aka over the nose, on at all times inside). We need a vaccine requirement for employment.

I’m fucking tired of being considerate anymore. Way past being patient. It’s been 16 months. The pandemic is still raging, and I’ve done everything right. It’s fucking bullshit that only 50% of people are vaccinated at this point. I wish our government would save the remaining vaccines for the kids under 12, send the rest out to the parts of the world that want them, and force the unvaccinated adults (who do not have a valid medical exemption) to pay for them through our insurance system. I want to run up to a denier and shake them. Don’t you care about kids? Don’t you care about the elderly? Don’t you care about the sick? Don’t you care about the well-being of your friends or family? Don’t you care about your fellow human?

This lyric from A change gon come by Sam Cooke sums up how I feel right now as an American, as a person of the world:

“Then I go to my brother
And I say, “Brother, help me please”
But he winds up knockin’ me
Back down on my knees.”

This came up on Genius.com for the song lyrics:

“This line refers to Blacks in the United States who did not openly support the Civil Rights Movement. Often, these people were afraid of violent retribution, and preferred to keep their fellow men “on their knees” in front of whites to avoid conflict. Cooke’s record producers were especially guilty of this.

They were more interested in keeping him popular among white listeners, than allowing him to speak out against race-related injustices in his music. This song was the first politically charged recording of Cooke’s, and was his way of “getting off of his knees.”

Ironically, the track was initially buried on the B-side of a semi-popular single by his producers. Rather than being released to stand on its own, the executives were too worried it would degrade Cooke’s popularity with whites.”

https://genius.com/1300893

It’s no wonder why another civil rights reckoning is happening during the pandemic. (Fucking stalled in the Senate by the same people making the pandemic worse, Republicans). Everyone is equal in the face of a virus. Corona Virus doesn’t care about your skin color, your feelings, your politics, or anything about you. It exists to spread in ideal conditions. The only way you are safe is to get the vaccine. To wear a mask and distance themselves from others.

You know… I need a Pandemic Anger Anonymous support group. Something. Another year of this? Ugh.

Oh, I finally feel a sense of peace and understanding regarding all the grief I went through last year. I’m sorry, and I vow never to act that way again.

It’s nice not to have that weighing on me every day… on top of 2021’s stuff.

Rest in Peace, Aunt Ann.

Thank you for reading this; I realize I haven’t been consistent lately… And I want to get back on the blog horse. If you enjoyed this, please give it a like, and tell me what you think in the comments! Don’t forget to subscribe to my email list for updates!

Please GET VACCINATED, wear a mask indoors or near people, that covers your mouth and nose. Wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance (6 feet) from others to fight Covid-19! 

© Reilly Anderson. 2021. All rights reserved.

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