Mental health mother and daughter

   Today I had a psychiatrist appointment, and tomorrow I have an appointment with a new therapist. I'm going to be honest, I hate going to any sort of appointments related to my mental health. I think that therapy is important, everyone should have access to it, and people who can't cope with life should be able to get whatever help they need. The reason I don't like it myself is just that I don't find that conventional medicine is all that effective at helping me deal with my issues.
    I've struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life. On a good day my mood is "meh" but on a bad day I feel like I should just kill myself and get it over with. I can't honestly remember a time when I was "happy",  I just sort of remember times when I wasn't quite as depressed as I am now.
   I remember it getting really bad when I was in about the forth or fifth grade. I specifically remember one day when my mother and I were moving stuff that wasn't going to fit in our new apartment into a storage unit. It was hot as hell, and I was feeling extremely cranky and complaining about how much I didn't want to be there. I'll be honest, I don't even remember what I said at this point, all I remember is that at some point my mother snapped and yelled at me, "Kristen, I'm working." before going back to moving heavy boxes into the storage unit.
  I don't remember people or places very well. What I do remember is emotions. I remember feeling scared, because mother had never yelled at me like that before, upset that I'd made her mad, and worried that she would hurt me if she got angrier at me.
   I wish I could say this was the only time she did something that made me feel that way, but there were several more instances after that where similar things happened. In all those instances, something happened that caused mother to fly off the handle, but I didn't know what happened and what I'd done wrong.
    Things went back to normal after about a year of this, but it was never the same. Before the storage incident, I loved my mother more than anything in the world, and was convinced she would be there to protect me no matter what. Afterwards, I still loved her, but I was always scared that I would do something that would make her mad.
   Something you don't know about mood issues unless you live with someone who has one, you can reach a point where you're so angry you don't care who you hurt or how badly you hurt them. If you're on the other end of that, you have two choices: make it so the can't hurt you or make it so they won't hurt you. I chose the latter. Over the years I fought back in whatever way I could. Knowing that she could get angry at any time, for any reason, it rather made it hard to have any motivation to do anything that would make her happy, when it was better to just save the energy for the next tantrum that would come my way.
  I should make this clear, I'm in no way blameless. If I wanted to, I could have kept our house clean, done my schoolwork without being asked, supported my mother during her down moments, tried to keep an open mind, remembered that even if she gets upset, she's just acting out how she was taught to behave by her parents growing up.
   That's what she expects of me. The reason I don't do it is that honestly, I don't want to. You know how in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Yoda says that fear leads to anger, hate and suffering? That's what's happened to me over time. I don't know if she loves me anymore, or if she even did. I don't know what her hopes were for me, or if I failed her. Quite frankly I don't care. Ever since that day in storage I've tried to ignore her behavior, or justify it, or just put my pain to one side so I can do what I need to do.
   That all stopped a week ago. I don't want to go into details, but mother told me what she was feeling that time, and rather than feeling sorry or upset, it just pissed me off. It was the kind of thing that you don't take out on your child who had nothing to do with it, you get therapy and work to fix it. But instead she made me her scapegoat.
   So I'm done playing the bad guy. As soon as I get a steady income and move out of the house, I'm cutting off all ties with her. Probably the rest of my family to. My cousin's still cool though.

Marketing Ideas

   I was tempted to not post today, since I did two posts yesterday, but I know that if I skip one day, It'll quickly turn into me not posting for months, if not years. I realize my writing leaves a lot to be desired, but at the moment my goal is to post every single day until it feels natural and I no longer stress about it, and to figure out how I'm going to market myself.
  My current approach is to market myself on LinkedIn. My thinking is that nobody is going to find me on blogger, since there's no way to just look at blog post on one page like you can on other platforms, so I have to make it easier for people to find me when searching. My thought was that the best way to do that was to make sure that people who are looking for new employees find me, see my blog, and decide to follow me. That way, they can tell other people in their social circle about me, show me to employees, and talk about me on their social media outlets. I expect these kinds of people will have more clout than someone on Facebook typically does, so I'll be throwing the net wider then if I just link my blog on another platform.
   I'm also looking at other blogging platforms. If the site goes big, that would be awesome, but judging from what I've seen of blogger, it's not the best platform if you want to track stats or grow your influence. I'm thinking that what I should do next is look for a platform where people can see my posts easily and an algorithm can do most of the work of marketing for me. I haven't decided which platform I want to try, but I'm thinking maybe medium's a good pick. The sites a little bland, but you can pick what you want from categories on the front page and there's a built in community, so I don't have to worry about optimizing myself, I just need to try and make the algorithm like me more.
   That's something for the future though, probably in about a year or two when I'm used to writing something every day and am comfortable with posting about myself in a public space. I figure that I can use blogger to work out how i want to brand myself, build up a community, and find a niche that I'm comfortable filling. Then I can move onto a platform where more people will see me and use what I've learned during that time to create a more successful blog.
    Or maybe someone who sees my blog on LinkedIn will be so impressed with what I'm posting that they decide to hire me. I can dream, right?

Super post 1

   While I was on Blogspot, I decided to test to see what counts as a view. From my own very unscientific

tests, it would appear that just looking at a post doesn’t count as a view, but clicking on it does. This isn’t

true on youtube, but blogspot doesn’t work like that apparently. In light of this, I’m seeing how long I need

to make a post before it triggers the “read more” feature of blogspot. I don’t think it will guarantee an

accurate view count, but at least I might see a number next to the little eye symbol when I look at my

blogspot page. 

   So today we’ll talk about notebooks. The kind with paper and a form of binding, not the electronics.

Frankly, depending on your level of wealth and access to electricity, it’s perfectly possible to go through

life without ever needing to write with pen and paper. We can talk about the benefits of teaching children

to write manually all we want, the truth is that only certain people will ever really need that skill. 

   That said, I love writing with a pen or a pencil on a sheet of paper. This didn’t use to be the case. When

I was younger I couldn’t write anything even slightly legible no matter how hard I tried. I have fine motor

control issues because of autism, and it took years of OT to help me learn how to write. 

   It wasn’t until I reached third grade that I learned how to write legibly. Maybe it was practice, but what I

think happened was that I learned cursive. I don’t think cursive should be a mandatory part of the

curriculum, but I do think that it helped me in a way print hadn’t up until then. For one thing, it looked so

pretty, for another the strokes involved in cursive are a lot easier than those involved in printing, though

printing is much easier to read. To be honest, I hope that future special ed teachers are taught cursive

and encouraged to teach it to students who have trouble writing like I did.

   I didn’t write much in class after middle school though. If I’m able to write slowly and take brakes, my

writings fairly good, but scribbling down notes is a terrible idea, since most of the time it’s an illegible

mess, and god help you if you have me try to write an essay for a test by hand. When I’m on my own, I

write a lot. Mostly to fill up the notebooks I accumulate without really thinking about it. Notebook and pen

collecting is my nerd hobby. I love finding different writing utensils and seeing how they write, and how I

can work to make what I write look better. My absolute favorite kind of pen is a fountain pen, they look so

cool and are a blast to write with. They do have one major downside though, the ink in them dries out

even if you aren’t using them. Ballpoints don’t have that problem, and you can get a good one for much

cheaper than a cheap fountain pen. I tend to stick to black pens or pens with a darker color because I

feel that it’s more professional, and it’s also a lot easier to see what you’ve written on white paper. 

   While I love notebooks, I tend to avoid planners. I don’t usually write down what I plan on doing, since

whether or not I write down goals I almost never complete them. Unfortunately, if you don’t use a planner,

you have to wait at least six years before you can use it next. The exception to this is techo planners,

since their mostly blank and you can use them as standard notebook paper instead of just planning the

goals you never complete. 

   I buy notebooks from all over the place, from the small notebooks from daiso, to the expensive leather

bound one my aunt got me as a birthday present. 

   A few words of advice to people looking to purchase notebooks. First off, don’t by moleskine, or

paperless, or any other big brand notebooks. You can find knockoffs for much cheaper at

half price books, or a similar store. I don’t know if this applies to all goodwill's, but my local goodwill has

had some good picks in the past, and It’s not a bad place to go for back to school supplies if you don’t

need a specific brand. The best places to look for notebooks are bookstores, just be warned that not

every book store carries notebooks. Another excellent place to look is at local crafts fairs, where

sometimes people will sell their own bound notebooks. If you want cheap, look for a daiso near you,

if not amazon isn’t a bad choice. 

    I mostly buy pens on amazon, since pen quality is mostly an engineering issue and isn’t affected by

craftsmanship in any meaningful way. My favorite pen brand is pilot, for both their fountain pens and

cheap office pen selections. I’m also quite fond of platinum fountain pens, if you want to get started

using fountain pens their the brand I recommend the most. Zebra makes an excellent selection of gel

pens and brush pens, but I also love tombow. I was averse to pentel, but last christmas my mom gave

me a brush pen from them that has bristles like a real paint brush, so I’m beginning to warm up to them. 

   What I love most about writing is the feeling that I’m creating something that’s just for me, that I can

enjoy. I love opening a notebook and seeing all of the empty pages waiting to be filled with my thoughts,

fears, and stories. I don’t stick to a topic for long though. My mind gets bored, and then I need to move

to something else. Most of what I write is about myself, what I think about what goes on in my life,

regardless of how small it really is. I don’t usually write to be artistic, I write to be precise, and to try and

show what’s going on inside of my head, and to make a record for whoever winds up reading about my

life when I die. I like to think of my writing as my legacy to the world, a la Emily Dickonson. Unlike Emily,

I hope to gain some notoriety while I’m still alive. 

   I’m a writer, and I hope that someday I can post more of what I’ve written in notebooks or put in

various word documents for the world, or whoever cares, online. I don’t know if anyone will be affected

by it, since I can’t read minds even though I pretend that I can. I do know that it affects me everyday,

and if someone else will feel better about their lives after reading this, that’s wonderful. If it doesn’t, than

so be it.

New year, new me (maybe)

   I don't post a lot because I worry about how I'll react if people criticize me. One of the things you hear a lot is people say is that hearing people criticize you is incredibly hard on your ego. I don't know if that holds true for me, since for one thing I avoid any situation in which I might face criticism, and for another I find that my harshest critic is usually myself. But I've been thinking lately that the thing I'd love more than anything in the world is to share, well, myself with the world. Things I don't tell anyone because I'm worried they'll think that I'm crazy, even if I talk to myself all the time without feeling any shame.
   My favorite thing to do in the world is to think. My "real" life is almost non-existent, but my "imaginary" life is grand and full of fun. I don't have a great imagination, but I love imagining things, and I truly don't understand why most people don't. Most of what people call "normal" life mystifies me, but the idea of not spending the majority of your time analyzing or questioning why things are the way they are, or just imagining that your in a fantasy world where all of your problems can be solved with magic, baffles me.
   When I think, I like to create a world where I can be someone important and special. I'd like to think that's what most people want. The world I've created for myself is a place whey I don't have to depend on anyone, and no one is depending on me. It's a world where I can just sit by myself and think about what the "real" world must by like for everyone who chooses to live in it.
    It may seem like a terrible thing, but I don't want to live in the "real" world. I don't blame anyone who wants to live in it, because it really is a beautiful and wonderful place, where even the people who are the most aware of how it works will never have full control. But I can't understand it and I've never felt comfortable when I'm there. One of the things I fully believe is that the world takes all kinds of people. Leaders, followers, people who know everything, people who will never know anything, people who ask all the questions and people who just follow orders. I don't believe in one way of living, or doing things, outside of a few general rules. I don't even like enforcing morals, since there's always a case where enforcing that moral is a terrible idea.
   But regardless of what kind of person you are, you still have to be a kind of person if you wish to exist in another person's world. People can't see another person for who they are, doing that would require they assume their thoughts instead of simply guessing what their general emotions are. For that reason, no matter where you live in, you will be shoved into a mold once you grow old enough to be accepted into general society.
   That's not what I want for myself. It's never what I wanted for myself. I don't want to just be "autistic" or "anxious" or a "nerd". I want to be someone who can be anything, depending on what the situation calls for. I want to be a voice for those who would otherwise not have them. I want to find the others like me that are out there, children raised by mothers who never had a relationship with another person, people from families where everyone has mental health issues, people whose last name may die when they do.
   If I could change the world that the human race has created to be one where anyone can be whoever they want to be, regardless of what they were born as, I would be blessed. In the absence of that, I aim to do more than merely survive. I want to live, and give my decedents enough so that their failures are brought about by their own choices and not the circumstances they were born into. I may not be special, but I at least want to be different.

November 20, 2019

   I just applied for an associates degree from my community college. As I was looking at the degree audit tool, I decided to look at some other degrees and certificates for fun. I have to say, I was surprised by just how many options there were, and how simple they turned out to be.
   When I was just starting college six years ago, I was planning on becoming a chemical engineer. That plan eventually fell down the tubes, not because I thought the classes were hard but because I found working in the lab environments to be extremely stressful. The next three years were spent trying to find something that I was good enough at to not have to study. Naturally, this ended in disaster.
  I wish that I'd taken the time to find something I could easily do. Than I would have a job, and I'd have more confidence. I'm honestly thinking of doing that now, then I would have a bigger chance of getting a job that would pay me decently.
   First I have to get a job that pays me though. I don't want to live off of my mother's money anymore. Getting a job is my highest priority right now.

Job hunting: as told by Kristen

Preface:

   Last night I had the most distressing nightmare I've had in a while, in which I, while using one of those play games for money websites, downloaded a virus to my surface. I was terrified, especially since this virus was an aggressive one that kept opening up windows and doing whatever it took to keep me from deleting it. It was the kind of dream that you wake up from being really grateful that it was just a dream and you don't have to deal with it anymore.
   So as you read this, keep in mind that I have a surface, and my biggest fear is losing it to my own stupidity.

    Now onto the job search.

Part 1: the anxiety

   The first thing I should mention is that I have an anxiety disorder. What that means is that sometimes my brain will randomly decide that a situation I'm in is horribly dangerous and do everything it can to keep my from doing it, even if I've done it a hundred times with no problem. A good example of this is escalators. I have no problem going up them, but when I was about ten I suddenly lost the ability to go down them. What happened was I suddenly got  scared I would slip while getting on and fall down and break my neck. Ever since then I've been unable to go down escalators, at least in the US (In Britain they give you more time to get on and settle in, clearly I'm not the only one with this problem).
   How it affects me when job hunting is that I'm terrified of going into interviews. I'm decent at social interactions when I'm not overwhelmed with anxiety, but when it hits than that all goes out the window. I also can't do anything that involves customer service for the same reason.
  I've been working on overcoming my anxiety for years now, but there's only so much you can do to avoid the moments your brain randomly decides your in danger for no reason. It doesn't help that I'm not naturally motivated, so overcoming my stupid fear of interviews takes a lot longer than one would reasonably expect it to take.

Part 2: the laziness

    Some people are born ambitious. They work hard, do everything they can, and don't stop until they get what they want. I'm not one of those people.
   Well, sort of. If I don't want to do something, you have to work very hard to make me do it. If I do want to do something, you can't do a lot to stop me.
   Which is to say that I don't really like the idea of working, so I try to avoid it where possible. I hate physical labor, but I'm decent at anything that requires thought (though I'm incapable of writing anything longer than three paragraphs).
   While I don't want to work, I do want a job. Not so much for money (which I mostly spend on notebooks on cheap pens) but because ever since I dropped out of college, I've just been sitting at home bored all day. The natural solution to this would be spending all of my free time in bars or hanging out with friends but, like I said, I really, really hate socializing and large groups in a loud space is my own personal definition of hell.
   So I don't want to work, but I want a chance to meet people. Not to advance myself, but just because even the least social among us gets lonely once in a while.

Conclusion:

   I want to stress that I'm jobless entirely because of choices that I've made. I could have dealt with this a long time ago, but I didn't because my mom felt that it was more important for me to focus on college, (and even then, plenty of people get jobs while in school). I've just been letting my fear of failure hold me back.
   I'm mostly just talking about this as a way making myself believe that this is real, and I guess as a way of pushing myself to find a job that suits my needs and wants. No matter how temporary it turns out to be.

November 14, 2019

   I've been working on filling up all my unfilled notebooks, in an attempt to creates something I'm genuinely proud of. I've also been working on getting a job, partly because I want tot get out of the house more and partly because my mom's getting increasingly angry at me for sitting at home all day and not doing any work either inside or outside the house (for reference, I'm 24). I figured that I'd make a step towards solving both problems by writing on this blog each day. Hey, someone might find my mindless ramblings about nothing of substance interesting. I can't possibly be the no one who laughs at things that aren't objectively funny, while at the same time disliking professional comedy.
   I don't really have a concrete plan of what I want to write, so I think it'll mostly be whatever I want to write on that particular day. I'd say thank god for writing prompts, but frankly I'm past the point where I find them helpful.
   I have a very active imagination. I don't want to say that it's "good" or "bad" because I frankly don't know, but I do know that I enjoy imagining things intensely. It's mostly escapism. I feel the same way about socializing that most people feel about math, and as a result so called "normal" life ranges from hard to nearly impossible, so imagining things helped me to cope with the stress of the outside world.
   I didn't start "writing" in any real capacity until I was about 10-11, when I got consistent access to a word processing program. My handwriting when I was in elementary school was terrible, and I didn't like writing for very long periods of time. With a computer I could write stories, though I never finished them, which is still a problem for me now.
   The strange thing is that when I was really young I was convinced that I would become an artist when I got older. Not because I liked art or was any good at it, but because the images I got in my head were so vivid, to me anyways, that I thought I would have to draw them out. What made me realize that I could write instead was when I read in a book (I think it was Lily's Crossing) that daydreamers make good writers. I was really excited when I found out because I enjoyed coming up with stories far more than I liked drawing or creating other forms of art.
    I still enjoy writing from time to time, both on paper and on one of the dozens of art programs I have downloaded from the internet for free over the years. I don't know if it's normal for people, even artists, to download art programs just for the purpose of seeing what the different brushes will do. My favorite free program is Krita, the only one's I own that cost money are Corel home and student suite and ArtRage for my Kindle fires.
   I think that's enough writing for the day. What'll happen tomorrow? Maybe something better. Let's hope I learn how to write next time.

Anxiety, part 2

I don't really have anything to talk about today. Actually I do, I'm just really scared to talk about it. I'm an intensely private person, I don't even really talk about my likes and interests to family members. The only person who I talk to about myself is my therapist, which I'm sure he thoroughly enjoys. I have a lot I think about, and a lot of opinions. I wouldn't really consider myself an expert on anything, but I've read a lot, watched a lot, and thought a lot, and I'd like to think that my voice counts for something. I might just be pretending that's true, like I pretend that I'm secretly the one controlling the world with my imagination, and everything that ever happens is my own secret will. But fantasy is all I have, and the only power I have on anyone who isn't me.
    I'd like to think we all have a place in this world, a place that we choose and make for ourselves. I want my place to be one where when I talk, people listen to me, but not because I'm an amazing leader. It's because what I say is true enough to make sense to them, and because I'm telling them things they always knew, but didn't quite have the words to articulate. I want to be a person who can tell other people what the problems they face actually are, and give them ideas on how to fix them. In my own way, I want to remake the world. I want to show people that things aren't set in stone, we can change them and maybe make it so that things are a little better. Maybe someday I'll move mountains without having to lift a finger, simply by showing people a way of doing it they never thought of.
    For now, I'm just some loser living in her mother's home with no job. I have thoughts and feelings, nothing more. I write a lot, but it's nothing if no one sees it before it's too late. That's part of why I'm writing this blog post, even though it doesn't say anything. I'm practicing, so that someday I can say something that's just a little smart.

Anxiety, part 1

    I started this blog two years ago, if the dates on my posts are correct, and posted exactly four times since I did. I have, at least, twenty blank notebooks on my bookshelves and in shoe boxes on my floor, and god knows how many blank and half blank sheets of paper in binders in my closet. Somewhere between ten and fifteen tote bags are crammed in with them, among other assorted knickknacks I've collected and have nowhere else to put. My bedroom floor is covered with blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that I have no need for and nowhere to put, but can't bring myself to give away. I also have puzzles, art supplies, regular books, a large collection of pens and pencils, various electronics and a large amount of clothes considering I avoid shopping whenever possible.
   I call myself a collector, but the truth is I'm more of a hoarder, just collecting whatever catches my eye regardless of whether or not I have the space for it. I also didn't buy any of it with money I earned, since despite the fact that I'm twenty-four I still haven't held a paying job. I've done volunteer work, but not for longer than a few months. My mom lets me stay with her and pays for my living expenses, and it leads to exactly the amount of resentment you would think it would lead to. I could argue my case and say I have an excuse for living the way I do, but the truth is, save for the fact that I'm a women, I fit the stereotype of a jobless nerd in her mother's basement perfectly.
   It's not that I can't work. There are jobs that, if I could bring myself to apply for them, I could probably get, even if I only have an AA degree despite being in college for six years. I could move out, get my own place, eat all the garbage I want, and die at thirty from untreated diabetes. It's not that I don't want to be independent, though I'm not going to pretend that living with mom isn't without it's perks. It's that I'm scared.
    Everyone has that one subject in school that, no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn't understand. For some it's sports, for other's math or language arts, for me, it was people. People just don't make sense to me. How do they know that the person sitting next to them wants to be friends? How do they know that it's OK to sit with that person and not someone else? How do they know which kids will want to make friends with them? I've been told that it's not instinctive, that everyone struggles with socializing and screws up sometimes. But the six year old who watched everyone else playing and wondered why she could never find anyone of her friends to play with is still convinced that socializing is a magical skill that she was born without. And unfortunately, no matter who you are or what kind of job you have, you have to be able to socialize with other people to a certain degree.
    Again, I could probably do it. I've dealt with people enough over the years to be able to grasp the basics of socializing, though I do find it really stressful and exhausting. It's just convincing myself that I can do it and that it won't end in total disaster. Life with an anxiety disorder is all about convincing the scared little kid in you that yes, you can do this, and even if something goes wrong, you can fix it. Honestly, my biggest enemy is myself, most of the world doesn't care about me one way or the other, but I'm convinced that everyone who so much as looks at me thinks I'm repulsive and stupid, an idiot who can't even keep a job for more than a day before she quits. I'm not saying that for sympathy, because I'm not the type of person who needs sympathy. Save the sympathy for people who are so overwhelmed by their anxiety they need your help to take care of them. I'm not one of them, at least not yet, but I've seen them on the bus or at my family reunions. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm lucky enough to be unworthy because of laziness and lack of effort, so help those who didn't have a say in the matter.

Life of a writer, part 1

Well here I sit, wanting to write in one of the three notebooks I brought with me but being unable to because I forgot about bringing a pen to write with. I don't have anyone to blame but myself, I wanted to go to the farmers market but didn't leave until it was almost certain to be closed by the time I got there. Fortunately I'm the sort of person who will warp time if it means I'll get something I want, so I made it by the skin of my teeth.
    It's not like I couldn't get another pen if I really wanted to write something down, but I've already got at least a hundred (conservatively) at home, so I'd rather wait until I'm back there. Plus this means that I will remember to check my purse before I next leave home, and not to wait until 5:30 to leave for a market that closes at 6.