Always Tired

 It's been more than five years and nine months since I wrote this post about now I had been tired for more than five years. I'm sorry to say that I have not gotten any better since I wrote that post.

I don't think I've completed reading a novel in that time. I believe the travel book that I keep in my car is the same one that I was reading way back then. The idea behind the car book is to have something to read while I'm waiting for appointments or for take-out to be made or to read before a movie and eventually I'd finish and move on to something else. It used to take me about a year to finish a car book.

I get enough sleep.

Before I did TMS I was sleeping between 11 and 14 hour each night. Even on weekdays. I would go to sleep that early. After TMS my sleep adjusted and I sleep between seven and nine hours a night.

Still always tired.

On a good day, it's just being tired. On a bad day, it is straight up exhaustion.

Doctors, for the brain and the body, have been of no use.

Not currently on any brain medication. Haven't been on any since October or November of 2024.

No trips to Utah planned.

Be well.

In My Opinionation

For Christmas, my brother gave me the first two seasons of Blossom.

I started watching it a week or so ago and just finished the first season.

Included with the first season is the original pilot episode. In that episode, Blossom's parents are still together. When the first episode was released, Blossom's parent have been divorced for two or three years and she lives with her dad, which was a brave thing for a TV show from 1990 to choose to do.

Also, when the series starts, Blossom's brother, Anthony, has been in recovery for drugs and alcohol for a while. In the pilot, he's maybe only a couple of month into recovery. He's isolating himself from everyone and Blossom only sees him once, when she's up late at night while she's in the kitchen. I think the show would have been more interesting if he had been at the beginning of his recovery when the actual series started.

For the most part, the show is still enjoyable. It's very much a product of it's time and genre -- multi-camera sitcom. I'm enjoying the nostalgia of it.

However, this was one episode, so far, that really pissed me off. It's called "The Geek." In it, Blossom is tricked into going to a dance with a nerdy guy. A jock, played by the second Jimmy Olson from Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, talks to Blossom about going to a dance and she gets excited and when she says yes the guys says, "Great, you'll be going with this guy." and out steps the nerd. Throughout the rest of the episode, Blossom agonizes over not wanting to go to the dance with the nerd Six, her best friend, even points out the Blossom was tricked, but Blossom dismisses Six. She makes up an excuse to not go to the dance then feels guilty about what she did. Then she offers to go to the dance with him and he turns her down and he gets the last work by saying, "It doesn't feel good getting turned down, does it?" And Blossom agrees! She was wronged! The jock and the nerd tricked her! AHHH!

Anyway, looking forward to the second season.

Also, Six is the best. She was when I watched the show in the '90s and she's still the best.

To Use an Old Metaphor

I have no plans to go to Utah. However, I think about going to Utah everyday and often desperately wish I were there already.

It's Gonna Happen, Sorry

 Dear Kid From the Autism Forum Who Doesn't Like Being Touched,

As someone like you, someone who hates being touched by people, but is several years older than you, it's my unfortunate duty to tell you that there is nothing you can do about it. People will touch you, on purpose and accident, for the rest of your life.

Accidental touches will happen. The only way that I know how to avoid these kinds of touches is to never go out. I haven't yet figured out how to do this. I have to go to work and go grocery shopping and I like to see the occasional motion picture and the picture house. I hope you understand that accidents happen and there's nothing you can do about it.

Unfortunately, on purpose touching by others will continue to happen, too, and there's nothing you can do about it because most people don't understand and touching COMFORTS them. They don't get a pain in their stomach when a hand is rested on their shoulder. They don't get an ache and prickles that can last for hours in the place where the hand was rested. For them the touching feels good.

When I was a kid, probably around your age, I got up to courage to tell my extended family that I didn't like being touched and asked them not to hug me anymore. For the months orI was ambushed with hugs by the people who were supposed to love me and care about my feelings the most. They thought it was hilarious. When I confronted them directly, they pretty much insisted I lied about not liking to be touched. Then, as I stood dumbfounded, I'd get hugged again. Eventually, because I stopped reacting, they stopped all the extra hugging and touching and went back to the normal amount. It was more than I wanted, but better.

A lot of people on the forum suggested that you tell a teacher or the principal. I don't think that would help.

Have you, or a friend, ever told a teacher that you were being bullied? And then the teacher talks to the bully and tells the bully that you, or your friend, told them that you were being bullied by the bully? And then the bullying gets worse? Yeah. What's going to happen if the teacher tells your class that you don't like being touched is that you're going to get touched more and, as long as it doesn't get violent, there's nothing that the teacher can do except remind the class that you don't like being touched. That doesn't help.

Maybe telling a teacher could help is the teacher is touchy-feely or has the class do massage circles. Maybe they'll stop calling for massage circles or allow you to sit out without drawing extra attention to it. Maybe.

Friends are an interesting case if you tell them. Some will treat it as a joke and will touch you more for a while. Some will understand and do their best not to touch you and if they do they will apologize. However, this will only last for a month or two at most and then they'll forget and the casual touching will start again.

And it doesn't stop once you get out of school either.

I have a coworker. I've worked with her for years. She's very kind person, with some horrible politics, but she's kind. She's also a toucher. As she moves past me, she'll put her hand on my back. When she comes up behind me to ask me a question while I'm sitting at my desk or checking my mailbox, her hand is on my shoulder. Every time.

I've told her that I don't like being touched, more than once, and she sort of stops for a while. But the touching comes back because, as she's told me, to her touching is REASSURING and COMFORTING. She's heard me when I say I don't like being touched, but I don't think she really believes me and I know she doesn't understand.

The one thing I haven't tried is just freaking out on people. I don't like making people uncomfortable. I hold in my desire to to let out a big reaction until I'm alone and let it out then. Maybe freaking out on them when they touch you is the answer. Maybe it'll get the message across and people will stop touching you. Maybe it'll get you sent to the principal's office in a conference with your parents. Who knows?

Who knows?

I know it's not the answer you expected and I'm sure it's not the answer you wanted, but it's my experience.

Good luck and be well.

ticknart

A Little Annoyed

 I watched The Fault in Our Stars this evening. I read the book, years ago, because emotionally I'm always a 15 year old girl, and remembered most of the details.

Anyway, spoilers for an 11 year old movie, there are two moments that bothered me:

1. When Isaac introduces himself he says he has a glass eye. The shot is close enough to then show both eyes moving with the exact same dexterity. Uh, not. That's not how it works. Sorry.
2. Near the end, while Gus is dying and in a wheelchair, for many scenes, he's still wearing his artificial leg. I mean, it's possible that he might continue to wear it, but it's unlikely that he'd wear it when he felt so tired and awful. It just bothered me.

Otherwise, the movie's fine. The acting is pretty good and the well deserved vitriol toward Van Houten works really well.

Stars granted.

Captain Janeway

So, I'm watching the Star Trek: Voyager documentary, To the Journey: Looking Back At Start Trek: Voyager, and I had to pause to get a thought out. It's a thought I had before, but didn't share.

Kate Mulgrew was not the first Captain Janeway. Geneviève Bujold was the first Captain Janeway.

For the most part, I adore Kate Mulgrew's Janeway. She is the cool aunt who knows everything about anything and will tell you bawdy stories and sneak you sips of wine. She loves you unconditionally and will run into a fire to pull you out.

Geneviève Bujold, from the few scenes that I've watched, was not like this. Her Janeway was more like the quiet, stunningly beautiful librarian. She saw you and respected you and wanted you to achieve greatness, but she lets you succeed and fail on your own merits. She might not jump in if she sees you having a problem, but if you ask, she will help you to the best of her ability and you will be all the better for it.

It's interesting to think what Voyager could have been if Geneviève Bujold could have handled the schedule. I don't know if it would have been better, but it would have been spectacular, in a very different way.

Hot Take?

To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Numar is an important movie.

It's definitely not a great movie. I'm not even sure that it's a good movie. It's an important movie, though.

Back when it was first released, I was in high school. There was only one actual city in the county I grew up in and that city had less than 5,000 people. Hell, the whole county, all 2,000 some odd square miles of it, only had about 50,000 people. Yeah, I grew up rural and it's pretty darn redneck, with the little good and lotta bad that brings with it. But...

To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar played in the local movie theater.

I got to watch a story about three drag queens traveling across the USA and being loved by a small town in middle America.

I got to watch this movie with my friends surrounded by a surprisingly large number of hetero couples who seemed to be enjoying themselves.

If I remember correctly, the movie was even #1 at the box office for a week or two. The movie wasn't just watched by New Yorkers and San Franciscans, you know.

Sure, there were better movies along similar themes that came out around the same time. Jeffrey and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert come to mind right away. I still find Jeffrey delightful and Priscilla is wonderfully heartwarming/breaking. Unfortunately, both movies did not play at my movie theater. The nearest independent theater would have been over two hours away and, at the time, I didn't even know it existed. I knew these movies existed, but I couldn't see them. I did see To Wong Foo, though.

(Funny that, with only one exception I know of, the three movies I mention all starred cis, hetero men. But it was the '90s and, as the song says, you take the good, you take the bad.)

How many weird kids with the weird friends who were trying to figure themselves out got to watch this movie and, maybe, see a bit of themselves up on the screen?

Yeah, it may not be a good movie, but I think it's an important one.

Oh, and if you haven't seen any of these movies, but want to, please be aware that the language and some of the ideas are very much of their time. There's a good chance that parts will make you uncomfortable. 30 years of (some) positive growth will do that to a culture.

A Confession

I cannot sing the high note in "Take On Me."

The Cube

Let's play together!

The game:
Imagine a desert.
     How big is it?
     What is it filled with?
     What do the surroundings look like?

In the desert is a cube.
     How big is the cube?
     What is it made of?
     What does it feel like?
     What color is it?
     How far away are you from the cube?
     Can you see through it?
     Is it solid or hollow?
     Where is it in relation to the ground?
     What is its orientation?

Also in the desert is a ladder.
     Where is the ladder located in the desert?
     What's its position in relation to the cube?
     What is the ladder made of?
     What type of ladder is it?
     How large is the ladder?
     How many rungs does it have?
     What is its age?

A horse comes into the desert.
     What color is the horse?
     How big is the horse?
     Do you know what kind of horse it is?
     What is the horse doing?
     Where is it in relation to the cube?

There is a storm in the desert.
     What is the size of the storm?
     What is the distance between the storm and the cube?
     Is the storm passing by or staying in place?
     Is the storm violent or calm or somewhere in between?

Flowers bloom in the desert.
     How many flowers are there?
     Where are the flowers in the dessert?
     How close are the flowers to the cube?
     What kind of flowers are they?
     What color(s) are the flowers?

My answers:
The desert is vast and flat: no dunes, no rock, just sand from horizon to horizon.

The cube floats several inches above the sand, with a point facing down. It slowly rotates, but it's off center and looks wobbly. If it's hollow, it's too small for most people to stand up inside of it. It's made of three different materials: a bright pink plastic, some sort of gray metal, and wood that's brown but hasn't been stained or painted. The pink plastic is very shiny, but the rest of the cube is dull. It's all very smooth, but the three materials feel different from each other. I can't see through the cube. I think it's solid, but it's also coming apart at the edges.

The ladder is close-ish to the cube, but not touching the cube. It's about the same size of the cube, maybe a little taller. It's an old aluminum extension ladder, spattered with paint. Oddly, I don't see any rungs, just bare rails.

If there's a horse in the dessert, I don't see it. Maybe it's over the horizon? Maybe it doesn't exist at all?

The storm is as large as the desert. It's everywhere. Very dark clouds. It's not really storming, though. Rain occasionally spits down from the sky and gusts of wind come and go, but the storm doesn't break. It's staying in place and when it does break, the Earth will shake.

Many flowers are scattered around near the cube and ladder. They're dead, though. Brown, dry stems sticking out of the ground.

Meaning:
The desert represents your world view; your idea of the world you live in.

The cube represents you and how you see yourself in the world.

The ladder represents your friends.

The horse represents the partner you are subconsciously seeking.

The storm represents the obstacles or problems in your life.

The flowers are your (metaphorical) children. (Like the things you create and nurture and care for.)

Accuracy?
It feels pretty accurate. Not in a good way in many places. *sigh*

How did yours come out?

---

I first came across The Cube way back in high school through The Cube: Keep the Secret by Annie Gottlieb and Slobodan D. Pesic. I find the book every seven or eight years on my bookshelf and re-imagine my cube. I thought it would be fun to re-imagine it with you, this time.

You can find deeper analysis in the book and online. They break down colors and materials and species and whatnots. However, I've never come across an analysis that talks about a cube made of multiple materials. I wonder how often that happens?

It’s Been Awhile

The short: lithium poisoning.

It's a interesting experience to be sent to the emergency room, get interviewed by the check-in nurse, then be pushed to the front of the line, in front of people with their arms wrapped in bloody dishtowels, because your brain isn't working properly.

But the poisoning isn't what I'm here to write about.

In my ongoing attempt to correct my brain problems, I spent seven weeks doing TMS. Five days a week I had an electromagnet put to my for up to 20 minutes. Once a week, I met with two doctors who run the clinic, but weren't actually at the clinic because their main office is in another city, to check my progress. When it was becoming clear the I had no progress, the doctors started bringing up possibilities for what is causing my brain problem. After discussion, one of the doctors asked me if I am autistic.

This caught me off-guard.

To the best of my knowledge, autism is not a cause of major depressive disorder. Autism does not cause a person to wake up just as exhausted as you were when you went to sleep. Autism does not cause you to sleep more than 12+ hours a night, if you don't have an alarm to wake you up. Again, to the best of my knowledge. These are the things that I was hoping TMS would help fix.

And yet, it stuck with me because I have... tendencies.

Last year, I brought up autism to a psychiatrist, and he blew it off completely.

Having it brought up to me by a doctor, though, that's different. That's an external source, listening to me describe myself, and coming to a conclusion that maybe I'm somewhere on the autism spectrum in a way that affects my life.

I took several online tests for adults to see if I may fall somewhere on the spectrum. All of the, every one I've taken, say that it's quite possible that I am on the spectrum. Every. Single. One.

So, what next?

Based on the research I've done, diagnosis will cost me $4500-$8500. That's not counting travel and hotels, because nothing is local. Sure, everyone offers video conferencing for the testing, but I can't be myself, for better or worse, on a video call. When I'm on a video call for more than 90 seconds my brain starts shouting at me to get off as soon as possible; I'm the same way on a phone call, get off as soon as possible. So, if I am going to do this, I need to be able to do this in person.

If I do it at all.

Because, honestly, what good would an autism diagnosis do me?

Sure, there's that simple elation of getting a diagnosis. That moment of feeling not alone. But what's next?

I'm not suddenly going to want to join a community and make friends. My depression won't go away because I have a label. I won't feel again. I won't be able to stop masking. I still won't be whole.

But... knowing would be a good thing. Knowing more about myself, understanding myself better, would be good.

While I'm pretty sure that I fall somewhere on the spectrum, I don't know if I'd even be able to get a diagnosis because, based on my research, for diagnosing adults they want to speak with someone who was an adult when you were a kid so that they can get an idea of who you were back then because, again according to my research, an individual on the spectrum couldn't know how to mask when they were young. And I don't think I can trust my parent's to give an honest account of how I was when I was younger.

When I've brought up the idea of getting a diagnosis to them, my dad is indifferent. He says that if I'm autistic then I'm high functioning, his words, and it shouldn't matter because I live a life. Also, I don't know how much my dad actually saw me as a kid. I think, to him, I was a bit of a mystery: a kid who wasn't a kid the way he thought kids should be. My mother, on the other hand, seemed offended at me even considering that I might fall on the spectrum. She worked with autistic kids when she was an aide at an elementary school. Not the worst of the worst, but pretty bad. Kids that really couldn't function if they didn't have a constant guiding hand and I did not need that kind of help growing up. There are no other people, who were adults when I was a kid, who I spent significant time with. My parent's are my only option.

Am I willing to shell out up to $8500 to have my parents possibly derail the process? I've read too many stories online about someone who had their diagnosis process stop after the adult person was interviewed. To not even get the chance to describe yourself would be terrible. More than disappointing. Legitimately terrible.

****************

I don’t know if I’ll be writing again. I want to, but I just don’t know.

Be well.