I'm gonna remove Tumblr from my phone for a bit. It's my main way of using it, and my mental health was already... not great... the past month or so, and there's been a lot of stuff going on beyond that. Having a constant untagged stream of disasters I can't do anything about (I don't blame people who want to draw attention to the fires in Australia, or their most recent friend to be in desperate need, or the neverending slew of shit coming out of the country I'm trapped in) it's starting to make my brain... Glitch?
Like I encounter stress, I read a new Hot Take on how people are ignoring or reacting incorrectly to some disaster, and the very first answer I come up with are extremely unhealthy ones.
So I'm safe, there's no morbid reason for me disappearing, I'm just finally putting my oxygen mask on.
Hooooo boy, it’s been a while. I’m not sure if anyone I know is still active, but here’s an update I will title:
LISTEN TO YOUR BODY, IT KNOWS WHAT’S UP. (Mild suicidal ideation tw)
Obviously, worldly shit has gotten even more stressful since I made the last post (what a year it’s been, that Australia’s wildfires seem so ancient?)
The “brain glitch” I was talking about was depression. Big, nasty depression, worsened by a stressful job at an essential business that suddenly got incredibly busy with a stressful boss that was requiring me to work 10-15 hour days and oh, also... over a decade of ignoring chronic pain, which was finally coming to collect. I realized something was wrong because several times I had to choose to take a different route home so I wouldn’t be tempted by steep dropoffs as I drove home.
I reluctantly stopped telling myself the same things my parents told me (”If you can walk, it’s not that bad!”, “The only context we’ll give you for the numerical pain scale is a 10 is ‘Take me to the hospital right now’!”, “You don’t want to be ~dramatic~, right?!”) and went to the doctor about the pain through my whole body instead of trying to piecemeal it into manageable, less “overdramatic” chunks.
Turns out I have fibromyalgia.
Turns out there’s medications for that. And that there’s no “walking off” the pain (that just makes it worse), but working within your limitations actually helps like no OTC medication did.
So I’ve stepped down from my stressful position and limited my hours (six hour shifts means they can’t guilt me into staying later because I’ll get a meal violation, which they can be fined for), started seeing a doctor and taking medication that actually targets the root of the problem. I’ve started paying attention to my body when it says I’ve stressed it too much, rather than telling it to buckle down and shut up. (And as a bonus, the stressful boss got promoted to the “Covid-19 Response Team”, which means she’s never in the building and isn’t my manager anymore.) And I’ve put a very conscious limit on my “bad news intake” per day/week.
As a result, my mental health has stabilized considerably (not just my depression, but my anxiety and brain fog too! They’re comorbid with fibro! Who fucking knew!!), my pain is becoming something I can manage and plan around to a degree, and I’ve actually made baby steps toward being creative again. I’ve been able to help around the house for the first time in months. I keep joking that I don’t know who this person is that I keep seeing glimpses of, but I’d like to have her over more often.
So, for my friends that have made it this far in my ramble: I’m okay! I’m doing way better, in fact! I’m not coming back to Tumblr yet, but I usually check my Instagram (jackrabbitheart) on a regular basis and from there I can give you my other forms of contact if needed. Mwah.
Further update, a pandemic and a half later: I asked for accommodations or a position that didn't hurt me at the nursery. They had none to give, so I walked. (I've stayed in touch with many of my old friends from the nursery, out of all of them only one still works there, for various reasons.)
I got a job doing commercial/medical laundry. It was not, in fact, easier on my body. My wife and I bought an apartment. We got a dog. (Her name is Opal, she's a senior dog whose anxiety and shitty knees match my own.) I had surgery that helped both my pain and my body image (I can wear button-up shirts now!). The laundry job let me go, which was scary but we saw it coming.
Now I work for a museum that is inclusive and accomodating. They've let me slowly ramp up my hours as my body recovered from my heavily physical jobs, and mostly has me at the front desk where I can sit and not hurt myself. They have me helping plan their Pride event for this year. It feels good.
I'm learning to advocate for myself and to listen to my body. I'm learning to accept that I have good days and bad, and that just because I'm having a good day doesn't mean I need to use up all the spoons I have because I don't know when I'll have them next. They come back sooner when I take care of myself.
World news is still scary, owning a home is scary, owning pets is scary, but it's worth being there anyway.
