#rant about my asd and ocd and my friend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

selznick · 1 year

Text

idk fucking know.rant ig??? not big idk

but like i ibly rlly have 1 friend that im close to and thats ive opened up to about my austism and ocd like even a bit,,,,, and like my autism is fine or whatever and sure sometimes idk how to deal with people but its fine and we joke so its cool but my ocd is like,, a legit problem for me that I dont joke about but they will,,,, like sometimes i will casually mention it around them but they will joke abt it and like kool whatever,, ocd isnt happenong rn so idc ig

but like she was telling me how she went to a hincent van gogh exhibit abt his life and depression and how she cried at the 'ear'aser in the giftshop after, , and like its a hood point,,, people like to portray him cutting off his ear as like some cutesy joke or romantic gesrure and not like a seriours mental break down and self harm,,, which like cool she cares abt mental health and uknow the seriousness of it all

except when its roght in front of her??? like i messaged her when i wanted to pour boiling water on my foot to 'clean' it and half my brain was fully on board with it and the other half was like no that will make ot worse stop,,, so i messaged her as like idk a reaching out for some sort of help or distraction from my stupif fukcing brain,,, and she was just like,, no why would you do that? and was just argueing with me,, like thats not logical,,,, and I FUCKIING KNOW THAT WHY DO U THINK THERE ISNT BOILING WATER ON MY FOOT WHILE IM TEXTING U,,, and shes just like but why would u eevn think that,, like rememeber ur precious vincent van gogh and his fucking ear and my fuxking ocd,, and shes just like,, ohhh

and i talk to her when i was worried about getting sepsis from a small cut on my toe,, and shes just like no ur fine, uve not got sepsis obvi,, and like i brought it up again cuz its the only thing my brain would think of,, and she got annoyed that i kept bringing it up and now she fuxking jokes about me being obsessed with sepsis and that i just always think i have sepsis

like sorry my brain literally cant stop worrying abt this shit,, sorry i have phantom pains from my ocd that make me worry more and continue the fucking cycle

anyway today i was like ugh im gonna have a headache after yards,, could just feel one starting before it uknow,, and shes like just drink from the water fountain,, and i tell her i cant bcuz there was like a weird bottle on it and other debris around it and my ocd cant handle that,,, and she just tells me to drink from it and that its not an issue,, and when i was like ya no my ocd rmemeber she says shed drink some from it and then i could becuz were liek made from the same stuff so same body,,, and like how can i explain in a concise way that ya u can drink it fine but u r not me with stupid brain disease that doesnt care for logical conclusions and that no we dont have the same body were not even related and the fact i was vomiting for like an entire day not too long ago so my brain has been pretty weird abt it since,, and i cant so i instead say smth like,, no were not the same body and i was sick at christmas and i would still feel ill or throw up because my brain placebo would still fuck it up

she still pushes me to just drink from the fountain cuz its not a big issue but like to me it is,, another friend had a water bottle and offered me some amd that end the conversation so thank god they were there otherwise id have to argue my own thoughts to someone,,, do you srsly think i want my actions to b this illogical,, no i want to just live and be able to carry on without brain worms controlling what i can and cant do

but like its so frustrating to have to argue logic and reason with my own brain,, i dont want to have to have the same arguement with a friend that cant seem to understand how much it affects me because im not currently screaming crying and cutting my limbs off

and it sucks becuz shes like the only person i an talk to but she just doesnt understand and doesnt seem to care

my finger has a cut on it at the moment,, similar to my toe,, and its fucking with my brain,, only thing i can rlly think of,, but i cant talk to the one person i can talk to becuz its just an annoyance to her and i should just get iver it,,, not like i can feel other pain in parts of my body that my brain is relating to it and not like i had to convince myself that my gums were a normal colour (they were) and not blue black,,,, but i cant even just b like o ya my brain thinks im dying can u distracct me cuz shes just be weird about my mental health and bring it up later as a joke

but i dont rlly joke abt my ocd,, i make some nokes abt having it but not my actual symptoms and i feel weird eevn fully talking abt it in case someone find out, doesnt take it serious and doesn something on purpose to spite/upset me,, so for her to make jokes abt my symptoms without even showsing any sympathy while im going through them just fukcing sucks,,, and like ive not daid anything bcuz idk how to breatch that topic,,,,, ummm i think u dont care abt my mental health and it makes me not want to ever talk to u abt it but at the same time ur the only person i can talk to abt it and the jokes make me super uncomfy please inhenrently knpw what my brain needs thanks,, i just,, ik shell be like sorry im not good at reading ppl so i didnt realise cuz thats what she said abt the van gogh and me boiling water foot thing ,,,, like babes u know abt my asd and ocd and im currently telling u abt my distressing thoughts,,, thats not people skills im fucking telling u im going through it like RIGHT NOW and u just do not care

ok this rant was bigger than i thought,, oop

my arm aches now and i need to frind smth to ditract me from the urge to chop ny finger off 🙃🙃🙃

#long post #rant about my asd and ocd and my friend

0 notes

spookyteeth · 20 days

Text

little different then what i usually post about but a bit pissed off and honestly just a rant

Alright, basically for context, I guess: Autism, ASD, ADHD, dyslexia, etc. (but autism is important for this rant) runs both sides in my family; we're all VERY neurodivergent. Though we're usually high-functioning and can mask well, it's still very visible. (like the magnet thing where neurodivergent people make friends with neurodivergent people because they're like drawn to them,, or something??? I like to call it 'your people finder')

The rant: In my life, I've been diagnosed with ADHD, and I am currently on medication, though something we've noticed is that I'm also showing signs of high-functioning autism. which is like, 'Oh cool, I guess I should get tested because, honestly, why haven't I before? I'm most likely going to get a positive result, and I think a diagnosis would help my 504 and shit.' So I went through the testing, which was honestly really… weird? I felt like I was being tested on only one end of the spectrum to see if I had a good reaction time, if I could read social cues, and if I could decipher figures of speech. Which was like alright, okay, I guess that's some signs that should be written down, important knowledge, I guess. So I get my results in,, waiting 3 weeks for this,, did 1000+ questions for this,, did 3 hours of testing for this,, to turn up as negative. I'm not upset I got negative. I'm not one to glorify autism or make up some shit to feel special. I'm upset because I've been looking through the diagnosis system, and the place I live has a mindset of 'you're only autistic if you flap your hands, can't pick up on how the other person is feeling, you're good at noticing patterns, etc.' or just that low-functioning autism is the only way of autism and that's not fucking okay??? I understand how autism has not been around for like a really long time (which is actually very interesting; I would recommend reading about Donald Triplett), and we really only have studies on male-bodied people (which is a whole thing about how autism is represented differently in different sexes), but it's actually hard to get an autism diagnosis. Like if you're male-bodied or female-bodied, and especially if you're an intersexed person. (Like, come on, dude, it's already hard enough for one sex to be severely undiagnosed, but two?? Really??) Though, I guess I give props for them noticing I have ADHD and saying I most likely have anxiety and a small chance of OCD.

Conclusion: I don't give a fuck if I'm not autistic or not; this diagnosis system needs to change. At least where I'm from; I'm not sure how it is in other places.

SORRY ABOUT THE LONG ASS RANT, and thanks for reading!! Please don't feel the need to respond or comfort to this, I'm just sharing my frustration.

Adding: I know self diagnosing (the one that's actually well educated not the tiktok shit where they spread misinformation so they can get attention) is common due to this, I just wish shit like this was more.. easy? Like easy to go though the process of getting an actual diagnosis, or even the chance to get one. Which, I am lucky to have that chance of at least getting tested, I admit.

#real life experiences #autsim #autism diagnosis system #RAHGGG this shit makes me feel so fuckin mad #i may completely be wrong on some info #it's just a rant though #autism #autism diagnosis

7 notes · View notes

steriotypicaloutlaw · 2 years

Text

In case anyone wants to know more about my self-insert...

Pansexual with ace-like tendencies.

Polyamorous.

Non-binary and intersex

ASD, PTSD, ADHD, OCD, Anxiety, Depression, Abandonment issues...

Allergic to bees and spiders but adores both of them.

Runs a little daycare and an art shop out of their house.

Their blood is a blueish-purple color? Idk, it changes depending on the lighting.

They change their hair color and hairstyle a lot.

Their horns and tail come as they please.

They do have a bit of a crush on Heisey (and Ethan), but who can really blame them?

They mostly wear alt and punk fashion.

Though they are known to "clean up nice".

Their teeth are all sharp except for the first 4, from the canines back are sharp, with their canines being longer than the rest.

Has a bad habit of hugging and/or kissing people they're close to when happy (Ex: when they successfully helped Karl revive their best friend as a Soldat they whooped and then lifted him up and spun him around in a hug before kissing both of his cheeks without even thinking about it.)

His ears and nose are really sensitive. Ears turn and seek out different noises to pinpoint what's coming from where (like a cat) and his nose twitches when he's sniffing the air (along with using his "Jacobson's organ" via opening his mouth when he sniffs).

Tilts his head like a dog to better understand and discern sounds.

They have 5 kids that they adopted, all of which have mutations of some sort.

Pretty hyper and full of chaotic-neutral energy.

Protective of those he loves.

Wants to revive Miranda simply to torture her for as long as she hurt the lords and villagers.

Likes introducing Karl to new music.

Knew that Ethan was mold as soon as they met, due to their exceptional sense of smell.

Was the one who convinced Ethan to show Karl the Alien series and laughed hysterically when Ethan complained about Karl's rants before joining Karl in obsessing over the perfection of xenomorphs.

Was the one who introduced Karl to cotton candy and laughed when he freaked out about it "disappearing".

Likes to boop Ethan's nose simply because it's cute when he gets annoyed about it.

Hangs out with Sal a lot and wants to be his dad.

Showed Sal "A Monster In Paris".

Squishes Sal's face and fawns over him, calling him a handsome little baby man and the babiest of babies.

Collects porcelain dolls with spirits attached to them (like I seem to) and brings them over to visit with Donna and her dolls.

Also crushing on his now Soldat best friend, had a crush on him before, but now he's living in their house and-

Stims a lot, happy stims, nervous stims, bored stims, etc.

Can hold his liquor a bit too well and is mildly scared of getting drunk and not even knowing, hates the taste of alcohol though.

LOTS of piercings and scars.

Keeps his claws a bit long as they're difficult to cut and also he has sensory issues with things touching the tips of his fingers.

Fully mutated form is some giant sapphire-blue dragon thing.

Double-jointed in odd places, like fingers, toes, hips, and one shoulder.

Long, almost snake-like tongue.

Gets cold easily (chronic iron deficiency due to mutation)

Has let Karl study him and poke around in his insides while he tried not to laugh because, "it was tickley".

Has threatened Karl that he'll fuck Sturm if he doesn't shut up. He's not 100% serious, but Karl doesn't know that.

Has mentioned several times a plan to make Sturm have the ability to switch between the fan and a normal fucking head (well, a mechanical one but still...), because he can obviously hear and understand people, not to mention he must have at least some sense of sight. He also wants to give him robotic arms for when he's using that head. He just wants to help with Sturm's clumsiness and definitely not fuck him.

9 notes · View notes

theconfusedsystem-blog · 6 years

Text

To fellow Autistic people

I really need a friend who is autistic just to rant and be ranted to about autism stuff like sensory issues, meltdowns, abelist people and just talk about stuff in general. If any of you are looking for the same thing, I'm your guy :)

A bit about me:

- I'm 17 in my senior year of high school

- I'm Australian

- I'm vegan

- I'm trans

- I have OCD, ADHD, depression, anxiety, and anorexia as well as ASD

- Some of my special interests- mental illness, autism itself, various tv shows, the weather, veganism, body language and facial expressions even though I don't understand them

Message me if you want to be friends :)

#actually autistic #autistic #actuallyautistic #autism #autistic who needs friends

6 notes · View notes

katzenkrieg · 3 years

Text

“A Rant on Papers” - or, if I’d shown this to someone 16 years ago, maybe I’d’ve gotten ADHD treatment 16 years earlier

I’ve been transcribing my old journals (I’ve journaled with some gaps since 2005 - I’m 37 now, so since I was 21), and I found this tucked in my 2005 one.

A journal entry says that I wrote it when I was struggling to write a paper for college in my second year, and that it helped me clear my head a bit.

I was diagnosed OCD and chronic depressive at, like. Nine. But no one ever suggested ADHD to me until *last year,* and I never stopped to take my own feelings about my limitations and what I can/can’t do seriously until this year. And this year is the first year I feel decent since I was a teenager. (Yes, even despite everything going on!)

So if you ever find yourself writing down or feeling things like this, do not hesitate. Read up on ADHD and consider getting yourself screened asap. Talk to other people with ADHD about how they cope. (I’ve found people with ASD also have a lot of overlap, and I benefit a lot from talking with my ASD friends, too.)

Take what you’re telling yourself seriously. Take your struggles and pain seriously. Everyone else *doesn’t* struggle with what you do. You’re wired differently. You’re not bad. You can’t punish yourself out of your own nervous system. But you can find other people like you. We’re all out here working on figuring out how to live in the world.

[CW for the following: Suicidal ideation, self-harm descriptions, intense frustration and self-hate. Also a brief mention of child abuse - which I haven’t experienced, but I mention someone else experiencing it.

Also, seriously, I’m right in the last few paragraphs. Do *not* read Night, Mother when you’re depressed. Or, hey, don’t read Night, Mother period. It’s an awful play to read/see if you’re disabled in any way.]

I am sitting in the chair on my porch – I never sit on the chair on my porch. Just like I never sit in the bathtub in the bathroom with the door closed. Or on the guest bed downstairs. Or on the small square of carpet outside of the basement bathroom, surrounded by Joss' [one of our cats at the time] butt drags and the smell of cat litter.

I only sit in these places when I'm hoping something will change – some switch in scenery or some isolation from the good parts of my life – my things, my books and computer and family – will make things different.

But it doesn't. It never makes things different. I just sit alone and hurt and ache and feel stupid because of it.

Papers make me want to just stop. They don't make me want to kill myself. They do make me want – or at least, visualize – hurting myself. A lot of images of spikes in the back, small knives, bloody slits running across palms, broken bones, pain – as though it would clear my head or punish me or prove that I am capable of something – some action. I stand in front of mirrors and imagine all the blood draining slowly out of my body. I stand near banisters and wonder what it would be like to jump over them and die at the bottom. I think about just dying – someone else doing it for me – a thug, a punk = just me, a body in a ditch – sad and alone and completely, purely, blissfully oblivious. Nothing left – all the benefits of suicide, none of the guilt. A tagline that ran through my head today.

The thing is, I don't really want to die. And I hate these days when it's all I seem to be able to think about, when I want it, when I can't do the simple, practical things and get stuck being morbid and depressed instead. I feel so alone on these days – and I know that's ridiculous, too. Everyone has papers – my parents had papers, my dad still has papers, all of the students I know and like who are seniors have had papers for years. And hell if they liked them – they stayed up late, they pushed themselves, they slacked and procrastinated, or they got little tiny orderly calendars and managed their time well (the ones with the tiny calendars always make me feel ashamed). They got things done. I know they did. I know I should.

But I don't want to. I want all of the cake, none of the cooking. I'm tired, and I want to be; I'm lonely, and the work...it's just there. It sits there and stares at me and it makes me want to weep and run and hide from it. It makes me want to crawl under some safe table in the back of my mind, some comfortable place full of cats and stuffed animals and old things, and just sit there and cry and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist.

I'm broken. I have so much inside of me – or I think I do or I wish to. I want to share. I want to explode all over people. I want little bits of my mind to go ricocheting out of my head like confetti and land all over others, and I want them to look at them and laugh or cry or understand, and then I want them to look at me and see me and want to share back. I want them to take me and hold me and tell me it'll all be okay, that I'm alright, that I'm not going to die, that they all feel like that – or at least some of them do – and they've wondered why nobody's mentioned it before – or at least nobody's ever done anything about it. And I'll look at them, and we'll both be crying and we'll both be alone and it'll hurt more than sixteen kinds of hell but at least there'll be some kind of connection between us. And maybe then if we die we'll die together, at least. Or maybe we can try to change things. Though everyone says that's futile.

And they're right, I think. Because what needs to change isn't the outside world – it's me. All those people I mentioned earlier – they're dealing with the same outside world, and they're handling it just fine. Or in some way that resembles fine long enough for them to get a college degree. I handle things by moping and hating myself. I hate every piece of my body, every fraction of my soul at these times. I wish I would burn. I wish I was in some Constantine version of hell where emo, self-absorbed assholes like me end up.

All of this suggests that it's me that's wrong, not it. It ain't down with the man, burn the establishment – it's burn me. It's if I was in the wild and this was evolution, I would not be passing on my genes. I would be a dead end. A garbage in, garbage out. A great big what the fuck was the world thinking mistake.

Which is what it all comes back to – I'm faced with a paper, and I suddenly hate myself and see failure and want to die. Which is not a reasonable response now, is it? The other thing I want is for the world to suddenly tell me it's okay to fail. Because, damn it, I just don't want to do these damn things – I don't like what they are, I don't like what they do to me (even though I know it's really me doing it to me, not the papers – the papers really don't have a damn thing to do about it). I want them to stop. I want me to stop. All these nice people keep helping me and I love them for it and they mean so much to me – but... I don't know what they want. People say do something, anything's better than an F. But is it? I mean, yes, it probably is – I know it is – nobody cares how well or not well I got the college degree, as long as I get it. But I just lock up. Some part of me wants to see that big, fat “F,” see the people coming after me with pitchforks. I'm a fake and a fraud, a bright, intelligent mind who doesn't want to do all the work all the other bright, intelligent minds have had to do. I want the easy way out. I'm not strong.

I always think my life's been so weird – crazy for a year at 10, back surgery, OCD, depression, leaving high school early, all that grief in high school in particular. But other people have the same things – like [Elise] at school. I talked to her some one day, and she told me she'd been abused when she was little. And that she went through a period of cutting herself. And then I feel bad about feeling bad about my problems – because, hell, they're nothing compared to some other people's problems. Maybe we shouldn't really keep these problems secret – maybe sometimes if we all shared the things that really hurt us we wouldn't feel so alone. All of us are so surface. Everything important lives inside our heads. How was my professor's day? I don't know. Does she/he have kids? Does he/she hate their job and wish they were doing something else? Are we all caught going forward pretending it's okay? Is that what it's all about, really? Pretending it's all alright, that we're fine, that we don't need to break or shatter or hurt, until we wind down and die?

Good God, this isn't really working, is it? I'm just being emo. Or, hell, maybe we should all be emo occasionally – maybe it'd be good for us. Really, hell if I know. I should, of course, be writing my paper. Write the paper, problem solved, point moot. Except my papers and I always end up in the same mutual hate/guilt/anger/despair crappiness. Which is just damned ridiculousness. Right now, I hate me; and I shouldn't. I should just write the damned paper. Damn, damn, damn.

- some random thoughts:

1) I should probably not read Night, Mother when I feel like this. Or maybe I should – it might make me feel better. Who knows? I would like to read it one of these days.

2) The recurring image that always comes back to me when I feel like this is of the cocooned people in the Alien films, rasping “kill me.” I think that about sums up the low points pretty well.

3) I always feel like I'm doing something worthwhile when I putz like this, even though it takes time away from what I should actually be doing. This, of course, raises the question – what should I actually be doing? This, because it provides immediate results and/or pleasure, or the other, because it's good for me and will have long-term benefits? Am I exploring options or wasting time? I think I'm wasting time and being a rat emo bastard – son of a bitch, aren't I?

#adhd #add #adult-diagnosed #depression #take your pain seriously #it's real and it's *not* something everyone else is feeling and just powering through #self-harm #i'm still shocked no one even *suggested* ADHD as a diagnosis back then

0 notes