Tuesday, December 14, 2010

That at least explains all the dick jokes

So I've been going to see a therapist. It's been okay, really. She's nice. She's also an ordained minister, which is kind of cool, but also weird, because you know, am I allowed to talk about sex? Because all of it thus far has been premarital (not that I have any specific reason to talk about sex, it just would be nice to know how awkward I should feel if it were to come up). But she is a Lutheran minister, so at least I know she doesn't think I have demons. We are a demon-free people, on the whole.

I've been learning a lot of interesting things, mostly about myself, things that I already knew because somehow I have managed to become really self-aware, which I think is part of the problem, because I'm critical. Anyway, they were things I already knew about myself but didn't put together as a cohesive whole, because I have a serious thought maintenance problem. They're just...in a cloud or something. A big electron cloud, and my head is the nucleus, and Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle is directing the show. Is that too esoteric? Is quantum physics not an appropriate topic to use in an analogy? Because I have thought long and hard about this (critical self-awareness, you see) and quantum physics is the best I could come up with. My thoughts are wave packets and it is impossible to know where they are and what they are doing at any given moment. (That's not exactly what the uncertainty principle is, but for the sake of the metaphor it works. Also, the electron cloud of thoughts is hazy and green. Obviously.)

So we have been discussing what it means to have hazy green negatively charged sub-particle thoughts, along with a lot of other, non-bastardized scientific terms like "working memory" and "executive function," and oh, hey, it turns out I have like all of the symptoms of ADHD. What?? Come on.

To be honest I kind of expected it, and a former therapist recommended I get tested for it, but at the time I was busy trying to keep myself from wanting to die, so I forgot about it, then I remembered it again but put it off, and so on for five years, right up until the point a few weeks ago when I was convinced I was getting stupid and about ready to become a recluse. Because that is what I do. With everything. And, also, it's always better to err on the side of blaming yourself for things like this. I didn't want to come across as a victim or an excuse-monger, you know.

So next week I'm going to take the test, which I'm scared to death of, because 1) it's long, and I'm afraid I won't be able to concentrate long enough to answer questions correctly, and 2) I'm afraid I won't be able to think up good examples for the questions I'm asked. But maybe they've factored that into the test already? I don't know. I do know, not on the subject at all, that Ryan was overjoyed that I told my therapist I hate movies because they're too long. Because that is totally what I'm going to focus on fixing, Ryan.

But regardless of how the test turns out, I already feel better. This is validation in a way, this idea that something is wrong, yes, but it can be fixed. I remember it was the same way with my depression a few years back - I didn't start to get better until I had read a ton of research on depression and convinced myself that it was an actual, medical problem, not just my ability to fix myself. Plus, just having a term to search for on the internet is cathartic, really - today I found an article that had a 10-step guide to using a day planner to make lists and OH MY GOD THAT IS THE BEST THING EVER.

Seriously, I told my brother to get me a planner for Christmas. I'm pretty excited about this. There may also be color-coded post-it notes.

Bottom line: Things are gonna be okay, I think. They're about to get expensive, because next year my deductible goes way up, but I'm not taking classes next semester (I *may* be on academic probation...another warning sign I guess I missed...) so this is what I'm going to work on. Organizing. Color-coding. Paying bills in a timely manner and filing them in an easy-to-access-come-tax-time spot. Oh, and not being so hard on myself. In that vein, all future references to "bullshitting my way through life, desperately hoping I don't get caught" will now be referred to as "developing and maintaining effective coping strategies." I'm no expert at either, but I think cognitive-behavioral therapy and public relations may be the exact same thing.

There you go. I probably have ADD. So I'm not stupid. I'm just an 8-year-old boy.

Edit: OH MY GOD I JUST REMEMBERED THIS! The greatest South Park episode of all time!
Sad part is, that's my favorite book...I was totally yelling "It's a gold car! It symbolizes money!" at my screen the whole time... :)

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