I want to talk more about being a weirdo and slowly finding out that it’s not me. In the last post, I mentioned that I had a rough childhood/teenage years/early twenties because I did not realize that it wasn’t just me. To clarify: I am weird. I am odd. I don’t fit in the mainstream for many reasons. I don’t like most of the popular culture popular things, which I have made my peace with at this late date in my life. But there were things that tripped me up (literally) that I figured was my own fault.
Like being clumsy.
It’s something I’ve dealt with all my life. I have run into things, fallen over things, tripped on things, etc., ever since I can remember. These are incidents that have happened to me: When I was two, I jumped off the bed (following my brother, apparently) and hit my head against the headboard. I had to go to the hospital to get stitches; I got my fingers slammed in the car door by my mother. Miraculously, no lasting damage; I broke the garage door window by hitting it to kill a mosquito (I maintain that this wasn’t completely my fault because the glass should not have broken that easily). Those were the big ones, but there have been countless incidents of me burning myself on the oven, running into the wall, stubbing my toe, etc. Oh! There’s one more incident–I dropped a weight on my big toe (a free weight). That’s another. Probably a 10 or 12-pounder.
Since I started learning Taiji, I have fallen off a ladder twice. Another thing. Driving, I have had several mini-issues with things like knocking the side mirror as I’m pulling into my garage, scraping the door against a mailbox, etc.
I have had bruises on almost every bit of my body. In fact, I would say that it’s a rare day when I don’t have a bruise. Oh, and I am keloid so I scar/bruise more visibly than other people. Currently, on my arms, I have five or so scratches/burns whatever that atre very visible.
I have called myself clumsy since I was little. As I wrote before, it doesn’t help that I am dreamy and don’t really pay attention to my surroundings because I am always in my thoughts. That’s why I think that it’s mostly me–because I am not in the present very often. Even when I’m practicing Taiji, my mind tends to wander a great deal.
The more I learn about autism, ADHD, and now dyspraxia, the more I think that maybe it’s not just all in my head. Or even if it’s in my head, that there’s a physical reason for so many things that I thought were just flaws. One of the problems with sexism (trust me, this is related) is that most of the known symptoms for these are more commonly found in men. Some of them are across the board, of course, but the ones that are not emphasized are more often found in non-men.
That’s not surprising. Eevrything medical is related to men. Men are the subjects of all the studies, even for pregnancy, and the recommended treatments are based on the average white dude. This is changing, but not fast enough. As an Asian non-male person who is twice as effective by mids as a wihte dude, it’s frustrating. Apparently, when i was in my coma, my mom kept telling my brother to bring up the fact that I was sensitive to medicines when I wouldn’t wake up and the docs were calibrating how much sedation to give me.
When I was in my twenties, I went to my shrink to get sleep meds. She gave me a dose that made me sleep for almost a full day. She told me to break it in half. Still slept for something like fifteen hours. A quarter got me down to ten. I couldn’t break the pill any more than that.
Let’s not even talk about anti-depressants. To grossly simplify it, each SSRI would work for roughly a year each at a low dose. Then, it would suddenly stop working with no warning. If I tried to take it again, it would have negative side effects. The last time I tried that, I think it was Celexa, and it made me seriously suicidal. I lost something like twenty pounds in a month and my doc, who I told all this to (icluding the suicidal part) said, “Well, at least you lost the weight.” I get that she was probably floundering for something to say, but that wasn’t it.
I am Taiwanese in heritage. That has an even worse history with mental illness/developmental disabilities than does America, which is saying something. My mother is a psychologist, which caused me to miss for several decades that she, well, let’s just say that she buys into the Taiwanese belief that mental health issues are a matter of moral failing and not actual disorders.
I will say, though, that in this case, I can’t blame my mother. ADHD, autism, and dyspraxia were not things that were dealt with forty years ago. At all. And my mother did what she could for my health (I had hyperthyroidism when I was younger, had that treated, and am now hypothyroid for life beacuse that was how it was dealt with back then) and my mental health (counseling, but with a completely wrong-for-me counselor).
I started to think I might have ADHD about a decade ago. I t was just a fleeting suspicion and then a low-key feeling. It’s only in the last year or so in talking about it (along with autism) that I’ve given it more serious thought. And in talking with the same friend, she was the one who brought up dyspraxia. We have talked several times about how it feels like such a relief to realize, “Hey, maybe it’s not me!” I mean, it’s me, but it’s not me doing something deliberately. I’m probably not helping things by not paying attention to my surroundings, but there is actually something wonky about my brain!
I can’t tell you how much better it makes me to feel that it’s not just a matter of trying harder. I’ve been trying to do better all my life, and while I have managed to get a better base through Taiji, I still fall over. I still run into things. I still have bruises/burns/cuts/scratches all over my arms and other parts of my body. If I could let it go that it’s a failing on my part that I keep banging up my body, that would be such a weight off my shoulders.