Posted by:
Cold-Dodger
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)
Date: September 04, 2016 09:03AM
What I know is that I have been diagnosed with ADHD. I cannot afford my medication at the moment, but I have coping skills now I never had before that should hold me over temporarily. What I suspect is that there is a serious, perhaps diagnosable, side of OCD symptoms to boot — I notice this especially in my thinking. I have a lot of cognitive/emotional impairments to sort out, and I don't know if I know all the names of what I may have yet, but it's dire to find out what because it makes it impossible to hold a job because it makes being around other people a living hell.
Mormonism has taken advantage of my weaknesses and made it all worse in a hundred ways, but I was primed to struggle with or without Mormonism by my genes. I am convinced of this now. I spit on Mormonism because it is not true, and it is not even benign: it is a false cure and it lies to you about its lies to keep you subscribed. So, the whole first two and a half decades of my life being a "detour" for my mental health that ended up being a dead end didn't help, but there remains much more for me to figure out besides religion.
My father, a chiropractor, thinks he screwed me up because I was the only of his children he had partially immunized as a baby. I'm the only one who has had major cognitive impairments and mental illnesses, or at least been vocal about them. I'm the only one of his children who has made a habit of thinking, investigating, researching, and articulating my stance on something with the end goal of explaining it all to him, because he's always been the guy whose opinion was the word of God. He's a humble man, don't get me wrong, and I love him very much, but this is the sort of relationship I have had with him and my mother too. I say this, in part, so anyone who has been following my posts can understand my obsession and frustration with trying to make them understand. I do not share their enthusiasm for homeopathic remedies and their intense hatred of the medical establishment anymore. The text I said I sent them several posts back was, in part, about trying to implore their help seeing someone, a professional, about this and that... But I felt like my plea was falling on deaf ears. I got the impression they were receiving me as the stereotypical hippy leftist atheist child who bashes your religion and then takes advantage of your battered psyche to be a mooch and a druggie. So, I snapped and sent them a text full of my grievances with them but only after telling them I never wanted their financial assistance ever again. :/ I probably made a pretty stupid move biting their hand, but I've got to leave them behind in that sense sooner or later anyway, and it's already been long enough. Oh well.
I thought the urgency of being helpless would help get me a job, but those kinds of feeling, for me at least, don't translate directly into actions in my mind — those are the cognitive impairments I talked about. Or should I say emotional impairments? I don't know which. They blend together. The weight of how much there is to grasp and do, the necessities of life and having to do it on my own — these things weigh on me, overwhelm me, and frustrate me, so that to avoid getting anxious and depressed at clinical levels I have to mentally push the dish away from myself and walk away, if possible, to stay centered.
This is useful for rejecting the poisonous messages of hatred for others and also the self-contempt that one is forced to hear and feel daily within the Mormon bubble. But when it comes to getting and holding a job in 'the real world,' a world that favors extroverts... dear God someone help me! Because on my own, I'm no good at this stuff. It may be my willingness to self-diagnose is my naivety that Mormonism kept from maturing and these are the frustrations of someone who is having to learn how to live his life. Perhaps, to do justice to my own folks, I used them as a crutch too. Only these crutches were not my idea. My parents and their religion were in my face every day, every waking moment of my life. When I'm having a moment of introspection, I have no idea how much of my struggles are religiously induced, i.e. they wouldn't exist at all if I had been raised in a healthier social environment with access to better information, and how much of it would exist anyway but has been made worse by misdiagnosing it with Mormonism for so long.
I love writing. Writing forces me to slow down and articulate things I may not otherwise be able to understand myself if I never broke the frenzied funk of clustered thoughts that represents my default mental setting, as it seems most the time anyway. I loved writing before I was an exmo. It was how I coped with being a missionary when the same levels of anxiety and depression in other kids, I know now, would have gotten them honorably discharged and sent home. But they don't get sent home honorably when they are convinced — based on their lack of good information plus all those moments with priesthood leaders — that all their problems boil down to thinking about the ladies and merely 'saluting' that thought... if you know what I mean. Any understanding of my condition in the world where I could be 'honorably' anything eluded me. So I tried to do the mission thing to the best of my ability even though every impulse and fear I have made every day of 'wearing the mantle' like rubbing my brain with sandpaper. Writing helped me through it all. I kept a daily journal and filled four thick volumes. I've been tempted to burn them, but perhaps I shouldn't.
Perhaps, in another show of fairness, I developed my people skills — or rather the coping mechanisms I needed to deal with people in a minimal capacity — on my mission, evaluating every day in my writing. But 'lest I stand at risk of some TBM lurker getting too excited at this admission, may I remind my readers that I was motivated to push through my discomfort because the alternative was an intense feeling like I was a sinner in the hands of an angry God who would utterly lay waste to my life and kill me last just to teach me a lesson — ok, not quite the 'kill me' part, but I was afraid he would take one of my parents from this earth at that time just to get me to be serious (as if I wasn't already taking it too seriously). But really, I wished that God would just kill me already. I think this form of OCD-like behavior and thought patterns — and the sheer level of what you feel! — is often called Scrupulosity. I don't know much about it, though. I just want to say that writing, or the people skills I have developed in tandem with my writing ability, has saved my life probably more than once, and is how I reached out of my personal Mormon bubble and get the emotional validation I needed to shatter my ignorance without the shame.
I want to make a pledge, and I mean this, "I will not harm myself." I won't do it. I refuse to contemplate it anymore. It's these 'outs' I have neural connections to that may be blocking me in many ways. I don't get the job, becaue I'm afraid, and also because mom and dad are there in the back of my mind. They won't let me fail and they've always protected me from pain. Likewise, when people say they want to harm themselves but they don't want to die either, I think they're saying that life is so painful that to cope they've had to attach themselves to the idea that there is a place where the pain stops and they will be protected from feeling the pain they cannot escape ever for very long. They use the idea as a floatation device in a mental/emotional hurricane. Well, I say 'they,' but I mean me. These are the reasons why I think of these things. I never wanted to stop existing, nor did I ever merely say things to get attention. At some point the idea occurred to me and took on the flesh and blood of practically in a moment when it provided an 'out' for whatever pain I was feeling (yet again) at the time. I don't want to die, though. Does anyone? I just want the frustrations and disappointments and humiliations and depressions and anxiety attacks (the pains) to stop... But they keep tormenting me.
I hope some of this makes sense. I'm not asking for anyone's help beyond perhaps a comment with something supportive in it or containing useful information somehow. The rest of it, the writing process, is for me for the reasons I said, but somehow it doesnt have the same effect if I'm not writing it TO someone besides myself and with the intent to share it.
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 09/04/2016 09:09AM by Cold-Dodger.