Underneath my yellow skin

Category Archives: Wellness

The wind and the fury

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I have so much fury that I am constantly reining in. The rage is simmering just below the surface. Or rather, it’s several levels deep because I try not to let it out. But it’s there. I’m very aware it’s there, and ever since my medical crisis, I’ve been struggling to keep it under control. I like to say that the infamous line by the Hulk, “That’s my secret Cap; I’m always angry” as he morphs from Bruce Banner into the Hulk is my tagline.

God. I watched a longer clip than the one I included above, and what a wretched movie that was. That’s the only line I remember or liked. But this one line and the way Bruce Banner smiles wryly before getting serious and transforming has stuck in my head ever since. It just hit me right where I live, and I’ve embraced it ever since.

Side note: Americans aren’t comfortable with anger, especially in women/AFAB people. There’s this eagerness to glide right by it as if it didn’t exist. In tandem, there’s an expectation that if someone wrongs you in any way, you will immediately forgive them as soon as they ask. And, sometimes in some contexts, before they even apologize.

I have my issues with the word forgiveness, which I have gone over several times. As that’s not what the post is about, I’ll move past it with great difficulty. (I don’t believe in forgiveness. That’s the TL;DR version of what I want to say.) I will say that anger was a very useful tool in geeting past some traumas, and I hate the fact that American society wants to deny that.

Thinks.

Debates.

Deep breath.

Let’s it go.

Forgiveness benefits the forgiven/perp, not the forgiver/victim. Especially as the way it’s done in this society and the religious taint associated with the concept. (And, yes, I use the word taint deliberately. Not in the vulgar slang sense, but in the actual meaning of the word. I want the negative meaning to shine through.)

Someone trangresses and confesses (because they got found out). They and/or their church immediately pressure the victim to forgive so ostentible everyone can forget and move on. THis is to the perp’s advantage, by teh way, because they are the ones who want the transgression to be forgotten. I’m talking about high profile transgressors, but it happens in less public occasions as well.

I don’t know when this happened, but there’s been a shift in Christianity that made it the burden of the victim to forgive their transgressor the second the latter asked for forgiveness. I mean, Christianity has always been on the side of the transgressor–


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Big braining and small braining, part three/seven

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Let’s talk more about how I brain–or don’t. One of the most frustrating things is to be told not to worry/be anxious, etc. Or to be told that it doesn’t help. Of course it doesn’t! I already know that. I try not to talk about my anxiety because I know it doesn’t help, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I hide it better than most, but it’s still pretty bad.

I noted that when I had my medical crisis, I came out of it with my depression down by 90% and my anxiety down by about 60%. Now, it’s because up to depression about 80% of what I used to have and my anxiety is about 90%. I’m talking of the original depression and anxiety. Granted, it’s still down from what it used to be, but it’s still not great.

It’s so frustrating to know that much of my problem is (literally and figuratively) in my head. I am am used to thinking my way out of my problems, and I can’t do that when my brain is the  problem in the first place.

Side note: I have been working on my Taiji/Bagua routine. I have it somewhat hammered out in that I do all the Taiji stretches/warmups every day. I also do one section of the Taiji Solo (Long Form) every day. In addition, I do the Swimming Dragon Form (left side or right side) every day. All of these are easy and gentle, which is why I can do them every day. Before, I had all my weapons rotating on a weekly basis. This was fine when I only knew a few weapon forms. Now, though, I know…let’s count them. Sword Form (left and right); Saber Form (left and right); Cane Form (left and right); Cane Form with Saber (left and right); Double Saber Form (right); Double Fan Form (right); Fan Form (right); and I’m learning the Bagua Knife Form (right). I’m almost done with it; I’m hoping to finish it in a month or two. I also do a staff/spear set that is not a form. I’m hoping my teacher can teach me the two-person forms for the staff/spear–they’re all very short. Or the two-person form.

I want to work on Push Hands (which is the basis for the two-person form. I’ll write more about that later.

Back to the weapon forms. I was doing the forms a varying amount of times a week. The Double Fan Form I do every day as it’s my newest form, and I want to make sure it gets in my body. Plus, I’ll be doing it for the next demo, so I want to have it down.

When I knew four or five weapon forms, it was fine to practice them all every week. I did one a day, and I was good to go. Now, though, it’s overwhelming. The whole routine takes up to two hours, and that’s too much. I was starting to hate practicing my weapons. Or rather, not hate, but dread. That’s when I needed a change.


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The way my brain works (or not), part five

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I want to talk more about my brain, neurodivergence, and the constant masking I do. And why I don’t want to have a/any romantic relationship(s). At least, that’s the plan. As I have shown over and over again, I don’t always stick to the script. In yesterday’s post, I wrote about autism and how the stereotypes of who had it prevented me from seeenig it in myself for decades.

I got a decent amount of sleep last night. In fact, more than decent. Nine hours in total! That’s almost unheard of for me. Now, I’m exhausted. I always feel more tired after getting good sleep than before it. It’s because my body realizes how sleep deprived I am and then demands more. Before that, it kind of grits its teeth (stay with me) and just deals with it because it thinks it has no other choice. Once it become cognizant that I actually have a choice about how much I sleep (to a certain extent), it wants more. I don’t blame it, mind. I just find it hard when I actually do right by it that it then wants more.

I’m a bit down. I was talking about the channel of the Discord I’m in that is a chill place to hang out. Today, I was reminded of how I was still an outsider in several ways. One is because the Americans in the British-centric Discord have been talking about having an American get-together. I don’t think I’d be comfortable attending because of my immune system  issues, but I was interested in hearing about it. We all suggested places, and my contribution was Chicago. Several people suggested Southern cities, and that was when I knew that it was not for me.

I’m not going south of the Mason-Dixon line (and yes, I chose that for a specific reason). In 2026 with all that’s been going on, I’m just not. I mean, look, my own city/state has been iffy, but that wasn’t our fault. Let’s not forget that we were invaded and besieged by our own government half a year ago.

As a Taiwanese American bisexual agender person who is old and tired, I’m not going to the south. I’m just not. They are enacting a raft of anty-queer laws AND anti- immigrants laaws, and I don’t feel safe going to, say, Nashville. I don’t care that it’s a major city–it’s still in the Deep South that is DEEPLY hostile to people like me.

I don’t want to be the one to bring it up and make everyone feel bad, but I also resent the fact that I have to be the one to bring it up. Yes, I know that’s part of being a minority of the minority in a group, but that’s one of the reason it’s such a fucking drag to be a minority.

I haven’t brought it up because it’s all theoretical right now. We’re talking about ‘oh, wouldn’t it be cool to do this?’, which is far away from having an actual plan, not to mention an actual date. And, as I said, the chance that I will actually go is slim. But if it’s in the south, the chance of me going is zero. I just will not go. I am not willing to put myself in that position nor the discomfort it would elicit from me.

I hate that I have to think about this and weigh my discomfort at bringing it up with my discomfort of actually going to the south. I will say that I’ve always been chary of going to the south, but now, I just won’t do it. That’s not even a question in my own mind.


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Thinking about thinking (and my brain), part four

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Let’s talk more about my brain and how I think. In yesterday’s post, I was talking about how the stereotypical depiction of autism prevented me from recognizing that I might be autistic until just a few years ago.

One thing I  mentioned was how I know not to natter on and on about my obsessions because it annoys other people. I also don’t mention them for another reason–because they are precious to me and talking about them with people who don’t feel the same way can make me feel some kind of way.

One trait of autism is being easily swayed/manipulated. This was another reason I thought I could not be autistic. When it comes to important issues–I am an unmovable force. Take abortion, for example. Once I realized what it was and how important it was for the autonomy of women, I have not wavered in my support of it. And, by “it” I specifiaclly mean abortion. Yes, I am pro-choice, but in this case, I want to emphasize that I specifically support abortion.

Side note: It irks me how pro-choice has been crafted to mean, “Yes, it’s so terrible that some people have to get abortions, but we support them in their difficult moments”. It can be terrible/hard/traumatic, but there are plenty of people who felt it was an easy decision and felt relief/joy when they had it done. That never gets talked about. No, it has to be all about suffering and tragedy–as does most things that traditionally pertain to women.

Side note to the side note: When I decided I did not want to have children and realized I didn’t have to, I felt such a sense of relief and joy. I could not explain it, but I felt as if a million-pound weight fell from my shoulders. I knew deep in my heart that this was the best decision I hahd ever made in my life, and thirty-five years later, I feel it even more strongly.

That’s another thing that at that time, women were apologizing for–not having children, I mean. I looked for anyone who felt the same way (remember, this was before the internet was the behemouth that it is now). I found one anthology from women, writers and not, who decided not to have children. I was so eager to read it, but to my disappointment, every single one of them apologized, excused, or made themselves smaller as they talked about their decision not to have children.

If I were to write for an anthology about my decision not to have children, I would be celebratory and jubilant. I’m not being hyperbolic; if anything, I’m understating my emotions.

The other thing I read that stuck in my brain was an article about mothers. Not because of the article itself, but because of the commenter who was brave enough to say that she regretted having children and why. Other commenters chimed in with similar sentiments, and it was the first time I saw an honest conversation from women who wished they hadn’t had children.


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More about my brain and how I think, part three

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Let’s talk more about my brain, how I think, and the difficulty  I’m having with sleep. In my last post, I talked quite a bit about how I never really thought I could have autism because the stereotype of it did not feel like it fit me–at all.

I didn’t want to go on a thousand-word rant about the patriarchy because I’ve done it many times before, and it wasn’t the point of the post. But let’s all acknowledge that we know that the patriarchy has a long reach.

It’s not often than I say plainly that the patriarchy is the reason I reacted in a certain way (or didn’t), but it’s completely true in this case. I had no idea I could have autism because the image of it in my head up until maybe four years ago was of a boy (probably white, but not necessarily) between five and fifteen.  Someone who fidgeted and stimmed constantly, and, of course, someone who was awkward in social interactions and could not make (or sustain) eye contact.

None of that fits me. Except maybe the last. I don’t make eye contact, but I can do the ‘look at their nose’ thing.

When my autistic friend told me to take an online autism test unmasked as much as possible, that was eye-opening. The test itself talked about masking and how so many autistic people did it automatically. They wanted you to take the test as unmasked as possible, and they even padded the scores to include masking.

Knowing all that, I still struggled taking the test without automatically masking. I have been doing it most of my life–for fifty-years plus. I don’t know how to be unmasked any longer. It had a Likert scale and would make statements like, “I feel comfortabel with my social skills in a crowd”. Then, of course, you had to pick a number. 1 was like highly agree, 2 agree, 3 neutral, 4 disagree, 5 highly disagree or something like that.

The instructions explicitly said to put down the number that described you before you put on your mask–and I had no idea. As I said, my mask was installed in me at such a young age and so firmly, I just could not imagine myself without it. I tried. I knocked a point off here and there, but I honestly had no idea what to score myself. That’s how ingrained the mask is on my face. Er, on me.

I scored in the low range (meaning the very bottom of I could possibly be autistic). The thing that was important, though, was that it opened my eyes to the idea that I might be autistic. It might be harder for me to find my way to what the actual truth is (and I don’t know if I’ll get tested or not), but just knowing it’s possible that I have autism has lifted a huge weight from my shoulders.

The thing is that even if it’s not autism per se, it helped me realize that I definitely have some kind of neurodivergence. I’m pretty sure it’s autism–just heavily masked. When I look at a list of the traits, I fit most of them–at least in my heart. Oh, and there have been studdies that suggest that transgender and nonbinary people have a higher rate of autism. Which is very interesting to me.


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Groups, labels, and feeling at home, part two

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One thing I’ve been thinking about a lot throughout my life is how much my sense of being an outsider is me and how much is them. Them meaning society. In yesterday’s post, I wrote about how there’s a channel in the Discord to which I belong that is really good for discussing various topics. It got threateneed to be age-verified when Discord switched to that (not getting into the inane politics behind it, but just, ugh), and some people who never visited the channel thought that was just fine.

Here’s the thing. It’s the one channel I felt comfortable talking about queer things, nonmonogamy, and an array of other things that did not fit into the other channels. In fact, the channel was created (before my time) when there wasa a college student (19 or 20, I think) asking questions about sexual slang. I gather this was in one of the general channels, and some people were uncomfortable with it.

Then, one of the owners of the Discord created the channel for After Dark topics and said, “Don’t make me regret this.”

We got that lifted when the threat of intrusive age-verification became a reality, for which I am profoundly grateful. In this channel, we have talked about music, dating, lightly touched on politics, and, yes, sex. We’ve talked about nonmonogamy/polyamory (and what the difference is), whether men and women can truly be friends (and introducing nonbinary/agender people into the question), and have encouraged people to go on dates.

The last few days the channel has been super-busy. No idea why, but the messages have been flying. We’ve pondered what ‘milkshake’ means in the classic R&B song of the same name by Kelis. Boobs? Butt? Blowjobs? Je ne sais quois? I’ve always thought it was the first, but I’ve heard people say it’s the second. Never heard the third or fourth until today. Other people said it’s what she has within–pretty much the same as the fourth.

How did we get on this topic? Because it’s been stuck in my head for several days, and I shared that in the channel. I think it was tangentially related to something that was going on in the channel–though I’m not absolutely sure. My brain works in werd ways (which is the whole point of the last ten or so posts), so who knows what connection it made?

Side note: when I was  younger, I would write or talk in ways that just assumed others could see the connections I was maknig in my brain. They were so clear to me, I couldn’t understand why they weren’t as clear to other people.

We also talked about dating woes people have had and muffins. Those are not related topics, byway. Oh, and it was muffins and cupcakes. We were discussing the difference between them because someone shared a meme about them. It had something to do with what the actual difference was–was it just the frosting? And then we migrated to talking about did that mean muffins were tops and cupcakes were bottoms? Because muffin tops were a thing.


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Sleep, perchance not to dream, part three

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Sleep. My enemyy. I wrote a whole novel–no, forget that novel. We don’t talk about that one. Let’s move on. I have been fighting with Morpheus since I was a kid, and I am giving up hope that I will be able to adjust it any time soon. I spent all of the last post talking about how much I’ve struggled with my sleep–and it doesn’t seem like there’s anything I can do to fix it.

I feel beaten down and defeated–and I know at least some of it is my own damn fault. Nerodivergence or not, I–you know what I’m not going to finish that sentence, either. I’m very hard on myself, and I think even when I can recognize that I am neurodivergent, I don’t fully accept that it has an impact on me. Or I downplay it and feel like I’m a lazy person, anyway.

It’s hard to say because while it is a big deterrent, that doesn’t mean it’s not up to me to do something about it. I think the problem is that I need to do the one thing I really, really don’t want to do–which is set a firm bedtime. The problem with that is setting a firm bedtime doesn’t mean I’ll be able to sleep on time or enough. In fact, when I put an emphasis on my sleeptime or forcing myself to go to bed, I become very aware of time passing. That makes it harder for me to fall asleep, and I just lie on the couch with my eyes wide open. Even when I close them, I can hear the metaphorical clock ticking in my ears.

The problem is that the little tweaks I do don’t work. Moving my bedtime up or back by an hour–nope. Melatonin–nope. Sleeping pills–a hard nope. Warm milk, herbal tea, warm bath? Nope, nope, and nope. Exercise before bed? Nope. Exercise during the day? Nope. Valerian? Fuck no! Reading before bed? Nope. Napping earlier? Also nope.

Side note: I have this thing about not trying the last and desperate option because–and I admit, this is screwy logic–then I’ll have nothing left. When I was deep in my depression and had tried so many meds, my therapist suggested EKG. I demurred because I felt that was the last option. If it didn’t work, I would be totally bereft.

I know it’s faulty logic, but it’s the way my brain works. It’s the same with the end of things. I hate the last in any series because it means the end of that series. I really liked a British series called Prime Suspect, based on the books. It’s about a female cop (detective? I think?) who had to fight sexism as much as she did the baddies. By series I mean there was a movie every year or so–looking it up, it spanned 15 years, had 7 series and 15 episodes. So I was basically right. The last series, series 7 had 2 episodes. I could not bring myself to watch them, and I still haven’t. I just could not bear to see the series end.

Now, I could go back and watch the whole series (if I can find them to stream. I don’t have any of the streaming services that offer the series, apparently. Sigh), but I’m not sure I want to do that. I adored Helen Mirren back then and for decades to come. Fairly recently, though, she’s said some things that make me like her less. Also, I don’t know how well the series will hold up. But it was incredible at the time.


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Sleep is as sleep does, (my brain), part seven

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Let’s talk more about burnout, sleep, and how the hell I can do better with both. I’m pretty sure the lack of the middle one is causing the first one, but I feel helpless to do anything about it. My sleep is wild these days. I had to get up before noon for my class, and I went to bed fairly early for me (5 a.m.), and I planned on getting up a quarter to twelve. Instead, I fell asleep, snoozed, and got up several times. At eleven or so, I woke up and just could not go back to sleep.

I have a weird thing in which if I have to get up at a certain time, then I’ll wake up early and keep on waking up until I give up and get up for good. It’s so frustrating because I could get an extra hour of sleep if  Iwould just stay asleep, but my anxiety does me in every time.

When I used to fly frequently, I would often get an early morning flight because it was the cheapest. If i had to be at the airport at, say, four in the morning, I just was not going to sleep that night. Even as I’m writing this, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. I’ve nodded off, slept for a few minutes, started awake, and repeated the cycle.

There’s no reason I couldn’t just go to bed now, but I won’t for whatever reason. I know what will happen, though. If I stay awake for ten more minutes, I’ll be up until five or six. This is just the way my brain works for whatever reason.

I’m exhausted, and then I can’t sleep. This cycle is the worst, and I know that I don’t help myself. I think the thing I need to do if I can is take out the self-judgment. I was talking to A about how hard it is not to be negative about oneself in addition to the actual problem. After all, we’ve been told all our lives that we’re lazy; that our brains were broken; that we just needed to try harder.

I can’t tell you how many different things I have tried to get better sleep. In fact, I listed several ways I tried to get better sleep in my post from yesterday. Every time, I had hope in my heart that this would be the answer, it wasn’t. There is nothing that has worked–except Taiji. And that took several years before it helped in the sleep department. Before I studied Taiji, I got four to five hours of sleep a night. Afterwards, I pushed it up to six, maybe six-and-a-half, inch by inch. Now, I get six to eight, depending, and it’s mostly on me if it’s less because I set my alarm for the same time no matter when I go to sleep (unless I have to get up earlier).

Why? Because I’m hoping in vain that it’ll spur me to go to bed earlier. I have mentioned that I would like to go to bed by 3 a.m. Now, it’s more than  half hour past that. 3 a.m. to 11 a.m. is my ideal schedule, but I have rarely been able to stay on that schedule. After I got out of the hospital (after my medical crisis), I was sleeping 10 p.m. to 6 p.m. I never did that even when I was a kid. I have never gone to bed before midnight–even when I had a 7:45 a.m. class in college. In fact, during that time, I rarely went to bed before 3:30 a.m.


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The importance of sleep (and braiiiiins), part six

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Let’s talk about sleep. Again. Forever. I struggle so much with it on so many level. Before I get into it, here’s my post from yesterday about how autism and ‘socially awkward’ are often used as an excuse for creepiness.

I’m mad thinking about it again. Why are we so quick to excuse bad behavior from men*? Or to say “that’s just the way he is”? Or, even worse when little boys pulled the hair of little girls, “He’s just showing that he likes you”?

By the way, stop that bullshit. Seriously. Stop it the fuck right now. We do not need to be teaching little girls that abuse is acceptable. And, no, I don’t think that’s being hyperbolic. A boy hurts a girl, and she’s just supposed to accept it because he “likes” her? No. Not appropriate and not acceptable.

In the same vein, don’t make kids accept hug or force them to hug anybody. Bodily autonomy is important. I have heard because it excuse it because faaaaaamily. But family can do bad things, too. The vast majority of abuse of children is by family members.

I have very few absolute opinions–one of them is that kids should never be made to hug anyone they don’t want to hug. I have read the reasons why people are for it, and none of them make one whit of an impression on me. They just sound like noise in my ears and mere excuses. “You want to make Granny feel welcome!” A warm smile and a “so glad to see you” can do that.

Hm. I just thought of something. I am very much someone who doesn’t are about labels in general. Male, female, Christian, Jew, Muslim, age, etc. I understand that it’s important to most people, and I can respect that. I mean, if those aspects are clearly important to someone, then I’ll be respectful.

I vould add familial labels into that basket. This is heresy as an Asian person, but I don’t think someone should be accorded more respect just because of their position in the family. To make it clear, I think everyone is deserving of a base level of respect as a human being. But I do not and never will agree that someone deserves more respect because they’re a day older or a man.

I think it’s because of my mindset that I am so absolute about not making kids kiss and/or hug anyone they don’t want to, regardless of family connection. And partly my neurodivergence, too. If you would not make your kid hug a total stranger, then why make them hug someone they see once a year? Or even more often than that.

Kids have such little autonomy as it is; they should not be forced to give up even more of it. This is a hill I would die on.


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Brain brain go away, part five

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Talking more about how my brain (doesn’t) works. Here is my post from yesterday toxic positivity, toxic gender stereotypes, and why both of these things have made me struggle with burnout.

I started out this series by wainting to talk about how my neurodivergence led to my current threat of burnout, but then, as usual it exploded out of control from that point. By the way, I tend to use neurodivergence rather than autism because I know that my brain is wired differently, but I’m not sure in what specific way. I’m pretty sure it’s autism, but i have not been tested for it.

I am still kicking myself for not thinking it was even possible, but that’s really not on me. The stereotype of autism ever since it’s really entered society’s conscience is of an adolescent (or now, kid) white male who has no social skills, doesn’t like to be held or maintain eye contact, and is constantly stimming.

Side note: I am so tired of ‘but have you thought that maybe he’s just socially awkward?’ bullshit when a guy does something creepy. All the endless excuses that maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But, no such grace that maybe the woman (and it’s almost always a woman) he’s creeping on is autistic herself and doesn’t need that shit.

Also, you can tell when someone is socially awkward in general versus them targeting a select  few. Someone who is socially awkward is that way in general (as I said), and the level doesn’t change too much from person to person. When it’s a creeper, it’s much different and done with a laser-sharp focus.

Side note to the side note: This is one of the most frustrating things about being harassed–feeling like you have to prove it over and over again. There’s never enough evidence that it was harassment and not something else, short of broken bones (or broken other parts)–and sometimes not even then. When #MeToo was happening, so many men were making it about them. How they were scared to approach women and say anything to them.

I mean…what?! That’s your takeaway from #MeToo? How hard it is to be a man? But of course it was. It’s always about the man. That was the whole fucking problem in the first place. When there’s a shooting these days, my immediate thought is, “What pissed off man shot a place up again?” Because it is overwhelmingly men–and most of the time, white cis het men.

Yet, we never talk about it because…why?  (Holds in a 2,000 word rant about patriarchy because I just cannot.)


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