Blah blah, words.

So I've seen so many people self-diagnosing as having ADHD. Which, hey, I think it's valid to a point. By that, I mean I've talked to way too many people who think they understand ADHD...but they don't. They think (and this is not an exaggeration) that salad always going bad at the back of the fridge is ADHD. They forgetting your keys a lot is ADHD. That fucking FIDGETING is ADHD. It's not. It's not even close.

So, what is ADHD like?

It's like a toxic friendship. One second, you love it. After all, you're the life of the party (because talking to someone with a bizarre way of looking at things is pretty entertaining)! You're known for your zany antics or loveable quirks... Until you're not.

Then you're irresponsible. You're a child. You're lazy or you don't care, You're too much and not enough. You're fucking Pippin from LOTR.

See...I met this guy on Tinder. Wonderful guy: the type I've been hoping to meet. He's funny and sweet. He laughs at my jokes... We clicked, and I felt I could be myself with him. I felt SAFE to be myself with him. And the more we talked, the more I loosened my mental leash.

Big. fucking. mistake.

See, ADHD is...a lot. And this is why I said I think self-diagnosis for ADHD is valid to a point. Because everyone has experienced symptoms of ADHD. It becomes ADHD when it goes too far: when you struggle in school, at home, in relationships. When it bleeds over into every part of your life like wet ink, it smears onto everything you touch.

Simply put, if you haven't broken down in ugly, heart-wrenching sobs because of your ADHD, is it really ADHD?

And I know I sound heartless. Yet, at the same time, I'm old enough to have lived through the "ADHD is so fun and quirky! Look at me with my adorable ADHD vibes!" era. I've seen this disorder treated with everything except respect. After all, when you have ADHD, you're the comedic relief. You're the sidekick. You're the joke.

Because let's face it: ADHD without the laugh track is just too damn depressing. It ruins lives. It makes me hate myself. It makes me feel like a failure.

And not because of the inattention or the brain fog or inability to do basic fucking tasks. It's the way I'm constantly trying to stay afloat. I'll have it managed and then SURPRISE! I forgot to watch out for that trait--the one that hasn't been an issue for long enough to think I'm safe--and I'm back underwater.

...

Look...

I am me. And part of being me is having ADHD. I can't take away one without the other. And for the most part, I've learned to love myself...

So I haven’t written an entry in months. And the first topic? My weight... I feel like that says something about society.

Seriously, though: I need to talk about this. Since returning to IU, I have...gained some weight, and am now what medical professionals would call “morbidly obese”. Not overly thrilled about it, but there it is. 

Now here’s the rub. I don’t want to be obese. 

“Wow, no kidding!” I can hear you say. Well, shush. 

You see, obesity runs in my family. Both grandmas, my aunt, my uncle, etc, etc all struggle with their weight--and have done for decades. 

I look at them, then I look at me...and I see that a more serious approach is probably needed. Not to mention I’m on medications that are sometimes prescribed to help people gain weight (looking at you gabapentin).

So what’s a girl to do? 

Surgery. 

Possibly...

...I hope so...

Ollie and I moved in on August 15 and classes started on August 23. So far, things are going well. It’s hot as hell, though! Plus, it’s humid.

I got a bike which has been...interesting. There are pros and cons to using a bike at IU when it feels like a flaming inferno outside.

Pros:

It’s much faster than walking. Which means I’m able to get to classes on time. 

It’s a good workout. Like...damn is it a good workout. I honestly want to die after I get to wherever I’m going. I’m also getting stronger each day, so riding to classes is getting easier.

Cons:

You get really sweaty. Now this isn’t a big deal...because it means I’m obviously getting a good workout. That being said, I get dehydrated very quickly. I also have to worry about overheating. (Honestly, it’s just the heat. It makes everything worse.)

Twelve days to go. And oh boy, am I nervous! I keep having mini panic moments. (I don’t want to call them panic attacks, because I don’t think they are. They do make me want to cry/puke, though.) 

I think I’m feeling this way because I don’t feel ready. There’s still so much to do:

Clean out my dressers and bring them downstairs

Go through my clothes and decide what to bring

Go through my room and decide what decor to bring

Pick up new table and give old one to Goodwill

Get lamps

Get TV stand

Go through photo albums and decide what pictures to bring

Okay, writing it out helped. It’s not as much as I thought it was...still...I’m anxious. 

Also, I know I’m going to be homesick. After all, it’s been six years. I didn’t realize it, but I’m going to miss Zeno so much. Yes, we’ve grown apart after getting Ollie (for which I feel immensely guilty), but he’s still my boyo. I love him so much and I don’t want to leave him behind. That being said, I know he’ll be fine. I also know it’s better that he stay here. 

It doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to feel heartbroken and guilty for a while.

The thing that’s causing the most anxiety, though, is the fact that there are so many unknowns. What will my apartment look like? (There weren’t many pictures.) What about the surrounding area? Where will I get food? (I have an idea, but are there any places closer?) Will Ollie like IU? How are we going to get the couch into my apartment?!

Also, is the apartment complex haunted? Indiana University is notoriously haunted. And the building was built in the 1960′s, so the chances of spectral residents is high. If it were just me, I wouldn’t care too much. But that’s just it. Ollie’s going to be there. Will he be alright if there’s a ghost? What if there’s something bad there? 

I’m planning on bringing some religious stuff from home. You know: a few crosses, the standard Mary statues, some obligatory saints medals that were dipped in holy water from the Vatican...

Goal for today:

Go through my clothes and decide what to bring

Go through my room and decide what decor to bring (and put them in the pile downstairs)

Before you get excited...it’s in Pittsburgh. Why? Because God wants to punish me and my midwestern-dwelling ways...obviously.

Now, do I want to drive myself all the way to whatever state Pittsburg is in? (It’s Pennsylvania.) Yes. 

Do I want to get in my old Honda CRV and drive like the wind? Or like the wind, but wind that’s determined to get to Pittsburg and back in a day? Also yes...

Because this is Anthropologie we’re talking about. The chance to get their furniture--hell, even a coaster--at a lower price? COUNT. ME. IN.

And, by the way, I’m talking major discounts. Potentially 70% off discounts. 

I want that sweet, sweet boho/eclectic style. 

So, I was playing with Ollie. We were using Thanos. It’s a purple sock filled with stuffing and a dead squeaker from a $7 toy he killed a while ago. It’s called Thanos because...well...it reminds me of what I would imagine Thanos’ dick would look like. Flaccid, at least...

Anyway, we were playing and I was trying yet again to get Ollie to release his toy. I tried ‘drop it’. Nothing. ‘Release’. Nothing. ‘Let go’. Nothing. Then finally, ‘out’... 

And he IMMEDIATELY released the toy. 

Just...what? Excuse me? Are you telling me Ollie’s known how to release his toys the whole time? 

Part of me feels guilty. We played fetch-and-tug for a solid half hour and he LOVED it. My poor boy was giving me clues the whole time, too. 

Warning: SPOILERS

Fuck. YES. All the times June tried to escape and failed, all the times you just wanted her to get revenge. Finally, we got some satisfaction.

Fred showed his true colors in the end. True to his manipulating ways, he tried to weasel his way out of the situation. He just kept trying to find the right method to save himself, but nothing worked and I LOVED watching him panic. 

Poetic justice. “Please, I have a son. A son!” Bitch, did you forget who you’re talking to? All those women had their children ripped away because of you. He was literally on the receiving end of his own creation. 

It’s especially satisfying as a woman, because let’s be honest: there is hardly ever any justice for victims of sexual assault. 

After SIX years, I will hopefully be returning to Indiana University Bloomington. And this time, I’ll have Ollie with me.

It’s only been a few hours and I’m already desperate to know if I’ve been allowed back. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the next few weeks...

(and I’m doing it FOR FREE)

Here’s the thing...if your dog has behavioral issues, they aren’t going to magically change into a well-behaved dog on their own. You need to put in the work. 

I’m thinking of making little “Diary of a Dog” videos about Ollie. One of my greater regrets concerning Buster (”Gaboo”) is that I didn’t take many videos of him. 

Finally, I’ve found a medication that truly helps my depression. The crazy thing is...I’m rediscovering parts of my personality that I’d forgotten existed.

So, what have I learned now that I’m able to think clearly for the first time in years?

The longer you have depression, the harder it is to tell the difference between you and your mental illness. I genuinely believed I was just lazy and unmotivated. I used to think, “This medication helps other people... Maybe it’s me? Maybe I just have a poor work ethic.

Mental illness does affect how you function. Again, I got to the point where I thought I was the problem--that I was simply not trying enough. After being on my current medication for a while, though, I can see empirical evidence that refutes this misconception. 

I’m able to do well in school. I’m getting A’s in my classes--completing assignments early. I’d forgotten how much pride I take in good grades. 

My loved ones see a difference. According to my family, I’m “not as angry.” They’ve also reported that I’m more relaxed and smiling again.

My dog is happier. Ollie is very sensitive, regularly mirroring my emotional state. For example, I had a migraine today and he refused to leave my side.

I’m hopeful again. It’s like the wall that blocked me from seeing my goals is crumbling. I’m working toward my dreams again, able to see that they’ve been patiently waiting for my return to the path.

The end lesson?

My neighbors are having a bonfire gathering. During a pandemic. No social distancing...no masks... We are doomed. What’s worse is that they are interrupting my pleasant reading hour!

I now understand why Jason Voorhees kills trespassers. Because as a proud introvert, each unnecessarily loud noise emitted from their face-holes fills me with angst. Go away, random people. Can’t you see I was trying to enjoy a quiet evening? *Shuts window whilst sending a withering scowl which no one will see*

Note: I know Jason feels the same way. People? No. Begone! *Stabs and slashes* Sometimes, he probably kills campers out of annoyance. 

I forgot about this journal...

Ollie continues to be creepy. He has since learned that licking my face with persistence will arouse me from even the deepest of slumbers. I’m tempted to buy a face shield, but think it would be too bulky for sleeping.

We keep getting the timing wrong. Bug spray aside (it was an easy fix, nothing worth noting), the timing of our journey continues to allude me. One day, we arrived at 7am. Staying for an hour, we were accosted by a woman demanding Ollie be leashed. The wretched banshee. Next, I over corrected and we came at 5am. We were met with utter darkness. Not even my flashlight could penetrate its terror.

We ended up returning to the safety of my old, yet beloved, Honda CRV and waited an entire hour with nothing but the sounds of Ollie’s panting to pass the time.

Dog + raccoon = rabies shots for me. Ollie is a dumpster fire. A living shitshow when it comes to off-leash hikes. At least, he is during the summer and fall. Possessed by ancient primal instincts, he has decided to hunt. And I do mean hunt. To put it simply, he now wears a bell whenever off leash. Oh, and I’m technically immune to rabies...

In other news…

Confirmed green thumb. My rubber tree cuttings have sprouted roots and one lucky specimen (since named Milton) is proudly potted and perched on my windowsill. Fred, the christmas cactus, is doing well--as is a new addition, Georgina, an American rubber plant.

Firstly, f*ck you, Adderall. Coming around here, causing my depression and sh*t--for six years. Now I’m stuck in bed, writhing in the non-fun way. Why? WITHDRAWAL. 

Again: with-f*cking-drawal. 

What kind of sick bastard are you, Adderall? Punishing me cause I dared to want a life without you. You don’t own me! You never did! 

Ollie is a creepy dog. Today, I woke up (at dawn) to humid, distinctly canine breaths flooding across my face. I kid you not, Ollie was just sitting with his face mere inches from my own--his tail making a ‘thump thump thump’ against the floor. This clearly means he’d been watching me sleep. Just a skeevy pup.

Did I mention it was 4:30 am?

Bug spray is a lung-killer. Avoiding a repeat of my “jeans will stop mosquitos from biting me” mistake, I ended up nearly blinding myself with a massive cloud of bug spray. (I was coughing for at least five minutes.)

Dogs + tall fauna = nervous owners. Last time we went to Funks Grove, he ended up with a splinter in his paw--and so we stayed home yesterday. Apparently, he understood more than I’d thought, as he refused to venture off the main path today. 

He normally goes off trail at least 50% of the time. I can’t complain, though, since the forest has exploded with life, meaning the fauna has become a 4.6ft sea of vegetation--meaning my only hope of keeping tabs on Ollie is watching for the occasional times his tail breaks the surface like a fluffy shark’s fin.

In other news...

Possible green thumb. My rubber tree cuttings have started to form definite roots! I’m trying not to assume that I’ll be able to actually grow a legitimate plant from them, but their progress is promising.

Potential nature-thief. I doubt I’ll do it--there are too many reasons not to--but I’m so tempted to find a plant in nature that I could actually grow indoors. The disease and pest hazard alone, though, continue to stop my kleptomaniacal lust. Still...maybe I could get some grass seeds from the wild specimens at Funks Grove...? That would be a fun little thing to grow indoors: grass.