Spicy Soul Survival

STILL TRYING

Lately, when I think about writing, all I seem to find is a tangled-up mess of words that are lodged in the back of my mind. I can’t find the beginning or the end – the string to pull and begin the unwinding. My insides have been tied up in knots for months, and I just can’t find a way to sort them out.

I’ve mentioned here that I think I may be “neurospicy,” that is, neurodivergent in some way. I just can’t quite find a description that fits. It makes me feel like I’m too weird even for weird. When my oldest child was diagnosed with autism a couple years ago, I took a deep dive on “autism in women, and why they’re so much harder to diagnose.” Then, when my brother was diagnosed with ADHD, the more I learned about ADHD in adults (particularly women), and the more I thought maybe THAT is why my brain feels like it doesn’t work “right.” I believed this so strongly that we decided to drop a significant chunk of money on pursuing a formal diagnosis. This is what I learned:

1. I have an above-average IQ (sweet validation, especially in those moments where I feel like a dummy because I lose my train of thought while I am speaking or can’t remember a certain word that I’m trying to use)
2. I scored “very high” in the working memory and processing speed categories, where my understanding of working memory had me believing mine was below average.
3. I scored above average, very high, or superior on almost everything they threw at me.

“Not enough data to support a diagnosis.” So why do I feel like I can’t remember a thing to save my life? Why do I know that there are things about my personality and how my brain works that I have felt the need to hide away since I was young for fear of being “too much” or “too weird” for other people? Why do I have to set daily alarms on my phone to remember to pick up my kids from school on time? Why do I completely miss appointments if I DON’T set alarms? Why does my child asking me if they can have a snack or hang out with friends feel like an assault on my already over-loaded mind?

The only data that would suggest I have ADHD (or something) was the self-reporting section, and that’s not enough for a diagnosis. “Maybe you have unrealistic expectations for yourself,” he said. I don’t feel like I do. I think I should be able to remember to pick my kids up from school at the proper time without needing a daily alarm. I think I should be able to keep my house tidy enough to feel comfortable. “It’s okay for your house to look ‘lived-in,’” he said. And I just laughed… I shouldn’t have to say “sorry, I forgot” multiple times every day. I should be able to take my dang supplements like a grown woman without my husband putting them in a bowl for me and setting them next to my water (and even then, I still resist them because “I don’t feel like it right now,” “I don’t want to swallow so many pills right now,” “I don’t want to take them before I’ve eaten,” “I don’t want to drink that much water right after I ate,” “crap! I keep forgetting to come back and take them”…….). Many weeks and many dollars later, left with more questions than answers, I’m coming apart at the seams, trying to drive home safely through waves of despair, feeling so completely untethered that I barely know which way is up.

So, now what? I just want to understand why the seemingly simple things in life are the hardest things for me to manage. Could it all just be a combination of PMDD and perimenopause with the added residual effects of narcissistic abuse? My research says perhaps. Could there be a bit of Demand Avoidance as a result of the abuse? I’m starting to think that is also very likely. Am I tired of feeling like I basically have to figure it out for myself? You betcha. I’m starting up with a new counselor in a couple of weeks…we’ll see how it goes.

In other news, I just finished another musical. We did Footloose, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to spend so much time with the friends that I feel most like myself around. It was exhausting as usual and even more so because I felt like two different people the whole time: the ragged mom/wife/home manager/business owner or the silly, fun-loving artist that I get to be when I’m with my theater peeps. There were times that I felt so completely unsettled by this dichotomy that I almost felt dizzy. The thing I realized, though…she’s still in there. The girl who loves to laugh and be silly and playfully tease her friends. The girl who is deeply moved by music and words and dancing (don’t come at me…Footloose is not a pinnacle of art, but I’m starving here!). Now that the show is over, I miss them (and her) fiercely. I don’t know why she hides away (I don’t feel like I have any control over it), but I think it is mostly because she doesn’t feel safe. She’s “too much” or too unusual for most people. The more “grown up” I get, I think, the less safe she feels. I only hope that I will find more spaces to be where she does feel safe to come out to sing and dance and play.

I almost completely abandoned this post half-way through. I still might. It feels too raw, too vulnerable to put online, but I remembered one of the reasons I set out on this project: so others like me don’t feel alone; so maybe someone would relate and know that even when things suck, God really is good. He loves you. He loves me, and He’s faithful, even when I don’t remember to think about Him. He’s still here. I’m still here. I have a beautiful family that I love so much. Even when I feel upended, He has given me a husband who is steadfast. He is my anchor when I feel I might drift away. God knew I would need him. He is the most tangible evidence of God’s love and faithfulness to me. 

And this love of beauty that runs through the depths of my soul is a reflection of God himself in the humble little image-bearer that He created me to be.