musingsofuttermadness
Welcome To My Mind
Thick thighs, witchy vibes, mentally ill but still alive đą
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My Anger Armours Me
Sometimes I hold my anger so close to my heart that it burns and leaves a branded mark.
I question why I lean into rage when I know other ways;
So many coping skills and tools yet I choose this embrace.
The red hot fire almost inspires me to survive,
Like some sort of fucked up thrill I chase to feel alive.
Anger.
The hellfire that fuels my defence against danger;
These deep emotions like fear and grief are easily buried beneath fury.
For itâs far easier to feel rage and wage war than it is to be gentle and heal the hurt underneath.
Whatâs left of me if I no longer embody fury?
Who will I be if not vengeful and hardened;
If not the goddess of darkness;
If not mistress of madnessâŚ
How will I know I am safe;
If I let go of these faces;
If I forfeit the cave of a grave I call homeâŚ
If I am no longer angry;
If rage and fury no longer armour me;
What will be left of me�
#anger quotes#poets on tumblr#adhd feels#autism#defence mechanism#addiction#recovery#emotions#poems on tumblr#quotes#rage#fury#healing#quoteoftheday
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We donât talk about this Enough
We donât talk enough about the shame and guilt and disappointment attached to ADHD and other disorders affecting executive function.
The shame of living in messy spaces and not being able to just sweep the fucking floor like everyone else. And not brushing your teeth or hair for days or weeks and eventually having to spend thousands at the dentist and get a buzz cut.
The shame of always running late due to time blindness. And this extending to being late with deadlines at work or school, when in reality you had to take sick days because your brain wouldnât let you get out of bed.
The shame of having sensory meltdowns because the world is too much, but being seen as having adult temper tantrums.
The guilt of knowing that you have so much you need to do, but you just canât, no matter how hard you fucking try.
The guilt of knowing you canât be a typical âgood friendâ because youâre often inconsistent and even unreliable.
The guilt of knowing the food youâre about to buy is probably going to gather mold at the back of the fridge before getting thrown out; but you have to buy it anyway or you wonât eat.
The disappointment in yourself when youâve been hyper-sexual for a week and now feel used and dirty and full of regret.
The disappointment you see in the eyes of the people you love when they see you curled up on the couch instead of following through on your plans, or doing the work you need to do, or doing your chores; but not knowing that youâre screaming inside to just do something, anything.
The disappointment of finally feeling like yourself, enjoying new hobbies, and functioning well again; then falling back into executive dysfunction and depression without any warning.
The shame, guilt, and disappointment of being afraid to share this with neurotypical people out of fear they might just say:
âStop being so lazyâ or âstop making excusesâ or âbut I saw you last week and you were fineâ
As a result of silencing these conversations, we continue the vicious cycle and perpetuate our feelings of utter worthlessness; we suffer and we isolate and sometimes we even give up.
We donât talk about this enough.
I think itâs time we start.
#adult adhd#adhd tax#adhd and shame#adhd thoughts#executive dysfunction#guiltburdened#mental illness#poems on tumblr#i'm not enough#living with adhd#adhd post#my adhd#adhd feels#adhd stuff#neurodivergencies#overwhelmed#sensory meltdown#autism#audhd
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Self-love is a Spectrum
I was always far too sensitive
to sound, sight, touch;
it was all just too much.
The world itself was so
loud and bright,
it triggered my fight or flight
and I always fought.
It wasâand still isâexhausting.
Sensory overload was something I experienced
but I didnât know how to define it.
So I just internalised it,
pushing the panic further and further down,
learning to mask and learn how
to ignore the overwhelm
so I wouldnât seem so weird.
For years I passed as a gifted, but strange kid
who hid the feelings of too much,
who sifted through the clouds above
that my head kept disappearing into.
Soon I aged out of the gifted label.
My potential faded
and I was left unstable,
with minimal coping skills that could get me through school;
I was drowning in expectations that I couldnât live up to.
So I did the only thing left to do.
I rebelled in an effort to survive,
becoming disruptive, defiant, defensive;
the three dreaded Dâs
of teenage life.
And when it all fell apart and I couldnât mask it anymore,
my mother took me to a professional.
And for the first time, I felt seen.
I felt heard.
No longer walking a blurred tight rope,
trying not to fall.
ADHD
Attention Deficit (Hyperactive) Disorder.
So much made sense.
I was no longer the broken daughter,
I was just different.
But still, I chose ignorance.
Only years later have I begun to explore
what my adhd and neurodiversity
actually mean.
I was so close to fully accepting myself,
and my brain,
and my mental health,
when it all started happening again.
Iâve been living in sensory overwhelm for the past few months,
looking for routes and back roads so I wouldnât have to confront
the reality that itâs more than ADHD.
Donât get me wrong,
my diagnosis still stands,
itâs still a part of who I am,
but thereâs more going on inside my mind.
A Spectrum of more to clarify.
ASD to be specific.
Autism Spectrum Disorder.
Autistic:
a word I never thought would apply to me;
an added layer of neurodiversity.
I donât know how to feel.
Iâm oscillating between relieved
and devastated.
If I had known back then that I wasnât broken,
maybe it wouldnât have been so frustrating.
Maybe I would have been kinder to little me.
But I know I canât change the past.
All I can do now is give myself permission to unmask;
and love myself throughout the process.
I know that some days I wonât get it right.
But Iâll give myself space and acknowledge
that forgiveness looks different for everyone.
There is no proven equation,
no one true answer to the, âHow do I accept myself?â question.
I suppose, in a way, self-love is also a spectrum.
#adhd feels#my adhd#autistic life#autism#autism and adhd#poems on tumblr#poets on tumblr#living with adhd#adult adhd#late diagnosed autistic#autism spectrum disorder
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Why do you stay: a lesson in the stages of grief
Sometimes the prospect of leaving
mimics the feeling
youâd have if the sky were falling down
because if there were a way out
you would have found it by now.
âŚ
Thereâs no closure
when youâre left a victim of theft,
you were robbed
because how could they stop
loving you when
all you can do is love them
even more than you love yourself
and you delve
into this spiral
of self-destructive denial
believing you are not enough,
so you confuse their so-called love
with their violence
and the silence is suffocating
you feel like youâre waiting
to drown
in the ocean of their expectations that defy
any remotely
sound
logic.
âŚ
You begin existing
around the twisting
question of
why
you stay with someone so poisonous
that their touch instills in you
a hopelessness
that only reiterates
the question that remains,
WHY
do you stay,
why
after all this time
do you still fall for their lies
upon lies
upon lies.
âŚ
You have flooded lakes
with the tears you cry
every time they break
something inside of you
and the truth
makes itself known
every time you feel the terror
you should never
associate with a home.
âŚ
By now you know
that if the answer existed
you would have found it
and so the question still remains:
Why
do you
Stay
âŚ
?
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Just Be Here
Thereâs been so much loss around me in the past month. I dread every phone call, wondering if weâve lost someone else.
Yesterday I was told that a friend, a fellow addict, passed away. He was always good to me. Welcomed me, loved me, told me to keep going when I didnât want to. He died on the table during a routine surgery. It shouldnât have happened, but it also wasnât anybodyâs fault. It just⌠is.
I went to a meeting, a support group in a way, with other recovering addicts last night. One of his closest friends was there. We hugged after the meeting and we cried and we held each other together because we were both falling apart. She recently lost her grandfather too.
Another close friend of mine stood on the side awkwardly as he asked me if I was okay, and I replied honestly (for the first time in weeks) that no, I wasnât okay. He couldnât make eye contact and he eventually said that he never knows how to help people through these kinds of things.
I hugged him and said, âJust be here.â
Itâs natural for us to want to fix the things around us, to want to take away the hurt our loved ones are feeling. But when it comes to things like grief, it canât be fixed. Only felt.
Some things canât, or donât need to, be fixed. They just need to be felt. So just be here while we feel it.
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I Remember You
Your mind isnât what it used to be. Youâre scattered and scared and lost and confused. All you know right now is that youâre not âyouâ.
Youâve told us many times that youâre âjust waiting to dieâ and itâs bittersweet that youâre getting your wish. Of course your loss is heartbreaking, but Iâm so grateful your pain and suffering will come to an end.
Youâre dying, more than ever, right now. The doctors are telling us you wonât make it through the weekend. Our family is in the process of saying their goodbyes, and I canât help but wonder how much of them you remember.
You may not remember most of my life, and thatâs not your fault, but I remember you. I remember your influence in my life. We may not have been particularly close, but you influenced my life in so many ways. I remember playing Cluedo with you, and listening to you tell me stories about your life. And I remember your favourite wool jersey that was scratchy and smelled like you. I remember the sound of your voice.
⢠⢠â˘
I remember writing this post a few days before you passed. I didnât want to post it because I didnât want it to be real.
Now youâre gone and that is far too real.
I miss you.
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Death is a Strange thing; Grief is even Stranger
The word âDeathâ can mean so many different things.
The ending of a Life, a rebirth, an indefinite goodbye.
In some cultures Death is celebrated because it signifies the soulâs transition from one realm to the next. In other cultures Death isnât the focus, but rather it is the Life lived that it celebrated.
While the varying cultural practices and beliefs about Death is fascinating, Iâm more intrigued by how each individual experiences Death, Dying, or Death of those around them.
For me, Death itself is neither good nor bad. It just simply⌠is. Itâs inevitable, unavoidable, and one of Lifeâs very few certainties. Iâm not, and never have been, Afraid of Death.
What I do Fear and struggle to accept, though, is Grief. And there are many types of Grief. As humans, we Grieve for Lives irrevocably changed, Lived never lived, opportunities never seized, goodbyes, endings, hell, Loss in general. We even sometimes find ourselves Grieving the Living. And of course, we Grieve the Dead.
I suppose I Fear Grief because it, too, is inevitable and unavoidable. With most other Heavy Emotions, we have remedies to ease the Pain. When weâre Lonely, we can reach out. When weâre Angry, we can address the cause and/or release it in healthy ways. When weâre Sad, we have creature comforts we can turn to. When weâre Afraid, we can do all of the above.
But when we Grieve⌠Nothing can take that Pain away. Many of us have tried to numb the Pain, but it always comes back. I spent years trying to drown my Grief, only to realise that it floats. I tried to drug it away, and cut it away, and fuck it away.
But it turns out I was only pushing it down deeper inside of myself, allowing it to make a home within my heart. Iâve been actively cleaning out the Wreckage of my past, and Healing the Grief I tried to ignore, naively believing that once Grief is Healed, it never returns. But thatâs not how Life works.
Grief is inevitable, unavoidable, and one of Lifeâs few certainties. At this moment in time, Iâm Grieving someone who is Dying. Iâve Loved them all my life, and soon I will be Grieving their Death.
Choosing to Love someone or something means youâre signing up for the Pain that comes with it, because itâs a package dealâand a catch twenty-two. If you never Love, you will always Grieve. If you choose to Love, you will still Grieve, but perhaps that Grief will be Worth it.
I can say, with absolute certainty, that the Love was well Worth the Grief.
And for that, I am Grateful.
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