I’m going to let y’all in on a little secret: I can be a bit of a ditz sometimes.
There’s a trait in Sims 3 called “Absent-Minded” which means the Sim will sometimes just forget that it was doing. It me. It so me.
Which makes it super difficult for me when I’m working in a group for a Thing. I’ll get excited, pile on responsibilities…and flake out when yet again, I’ve taken on too much. You name it, secular organizations, theater groups, Second Life roleplaying sims, I get burned out like a mofo quick.
It’s been a source of stress for me, which sometimes leads to me not doing anything. Not signing up or showing up or getting involved in shit. Which for someone who wants to do more, sucks rancid goat balls.
Once I got my poor folks insurance way back in 2009, and once I was settled in Minneasota, I started the path of “Okay, I know I’m depressed and shit makes me anxious, how do I fix it?”. Said path was like those haunted house rides you see at the midway of carnivals.
Hey, Feminace, you’ve never been on those rides because sudden jumpscares make you cry.
Actually, “exaggerated startle response” was the first of many words I learned in this path. “Generalized Anxiety Disorder” was another. “Borderline Personality Disorder” was something I’d only heard of in that movie with Winona Ryder where one girl stashed rotten eaten chickens under her bed. I knew what “PTSD” meant, but never thought it could ever apply to me.
And finally “Inattentive ADD”.
I was a straight A student growing up. I never made a mess, and from ages 12 to 19 I was tasked with cleaning not just my room, but the entire house twice a week. My room – spotless. Teachers loved me. Administrators gave me special projects to do, like raising the flag in the morning, which I did faithfully on time. How in all of the hells could I have ADD?
Insert some research of my own here, and little more there, and some more over yonder, and whelp, guess I was wrong.
My grades and cleanliness were expectations imposed on me – the second I got out of the house, I couldn’t keep my space clean to save my life. As for my grades, a combination of never learning how to study, being in a major I didn’t want to be, and depression and anxiety lead to me nearly ending it all, and dropping out of college in the second year.
Now, even medicated up the wazoo (I have an app that lists all of the meds I’m taking), I have a hard time starting projects. My desk remains a mess, shoved over to make room for Weasel to demand pets and doze off.
Mostly importantly, I have a hard time doing shit that is expected of me. I hem and haw. I freeze, not knowing where to start. I flail, and then I flake.
As I try to understand the funhouse horror show/cast of characters that is how my brain works, I had to finally speak up.
When I was tapped to be part of this merry band of bloggers, I was asked if there were any accommodations that I would need to make working with these folks possible/easier.
And I spoke up, and plainly. “Look, I’m not good with keeping on task. I need my hand held. I need to be checked in on.”
Saying it made me teary. It felt like admitting to being a failure as an adult who is supposed to have her shit together already.
But it wasn’t a problem. And so I started making it known to other things that I had to do that involved other people – my forum-based RP group, the party room committee for CONvergence, my own partner.
It’s never going to get more comfortable for me, but I hope that in the long run, I’ll be more reliable to others.
And since writing this is making me sad, I need something to cheer me up. Y’all know what that means: