All posts tagged person

Maladaptive Bullshit.

by admin on January 14, 2011 in Uncategorized with No comments

I had a big wake up call today. I need to pull myself the fuck out of whatever crap-arse grief psychology I’ve had lately. I’m better than this. My Grandmother used to do this. She would build things up in her head, jump to erroneous conclusions, and dramatically cut people out of her life.

I can think of 4 times when she changed her phone number so we couldn’t call her.

She was passionate and loving and generous. But, she used to spin how much she gave, or how much she cared, or how much she was simply seeking “basic respect” into a tool of manipulation. She would be loving and caring and then BLAMMO if you looked at her the wrong way and you were an ungrateful, hurtful bastard and it was the basis for her to destroy you. She did this to me.

She died alone.

Patterns.

I do the same thing. It became abundantly obvious today.

I have some serious fucking reflection to do, some serious bridge building to do, and I need to wake AND GROW the fuck up or I am going to be in the same boat.

To those I have hurt in the last few years with my fucked up, backward, paranoid behaviour, I apologise. Apologies don’t cut it, I know. I don’t actually deserve forgiveness.

I had a wake up call today. I looked within and didn’t like the person I have become.

I’ve let being a “survivor” dictate and justify my defensive, abusive, fucked up behaviour towards other people one too many times. I push people to the edge. I push people who I care more about on this planet away because of my perception that I don’t deserve them.

Right now, I don’t.

I am not this person. I don’t know who I am.

But this cannot continue.

Acceptance.

by admin on November 18, 2010 in Health, Introspectives, Relationships with No comments

I have had to do a lot of thinking lately. Some reflections have been conscious and voluntary, others have been somewhat forced on me… but this really is a time of major growth and personal reflection and I am at a real turning point in my life… where I really am aware that decisions I make now will impact the rest of my life.

It took some time to end my marriage, primarily because I thought I was the broken one. That somehow if I tried harder, that somehow if I just worked longer hours and poured all I had into things, tried to modify myself to fit… that I could somehow force it. The assumption that the way I felt was all about my attitude and laziness and was somehow my fault and was even fixable was a naive view, but still, I held it. That the failure of my marriage was my fault.

I tried really hard. Both of us tried really, really hard and both of us are good people who just worked too hard at something that was simply a matter of incompatibility. I didn’t cheat. He didn’t cheat. Nothing happened. In fact, it was the day I said, out loud, that I wasn’t happy and we needed to separate, calmly, that I knew that this was for real. It took me a long time, after 2 years of relentless, clusterfuck-style life-shock after epic life-shock that I came out the other side and realised that I was a different person.

I am on my own for the first time in my life. The first time in my life. I lived alone for about 8 months when Jason and I broke up in 2000, and I dated, and lived alone, but for the first time ever, I am truly on my own. And by this, I mean, responsible for myself with no-one to back me up or bail me out.

It’s scary.

And it’s weird.

Because I realised, with a fairly crushing and overwhelming force, that I have some pretty significant deficits as a functioning adult. I am injury prone, reckless and forgetful and I had absolutely no idea to what extent that was till I actually had to live with consequences, and without someone in the background, constantly making sure that I remembered things, or reminded me when I was being reckless, or could remind me of the time (I have no concept of time). In the few weeks I have been out on my own, I have cut myself, bruised myself, locked myself out of my house, lost my temper from mess, lost my temper from workload & juggling… and you get the idea.

I have always been so vocal about my independence… how I am A type. How I am a “high achiever”, how I can do it all, etc etc. And now, I realise that no-one can truly do it all without someone in the background making sure that it happens. There is no such thing as a self-made person.

I have ADHD. I have gone through a crapload of testing. I have gone through a crapload of medication trial and error. I have crippling autoimmune disease and a suspected blood clotting disorder. My autoimmune disease has some symptoms similar to MS, especially around cognitive function and clumsiness. I used to be a functioning person. Used to be an athlete. Used to… well… used to do a lot of things.

The ADHD stuff really is an umbrella for so much in my life and I have realised that I am not coping well with the everyday pressures of being on my own. Jason used to do things like plug my phone in to make it was charged. He would make sure I had my car keys or the house keys. He would make sure I remembered to set alarms, take medications. He would walk in at 11pm and tell me the time so I knew. He would clean up after the kids so that I wouldn’t be stressed out about disorganisation when I am already struggling to pay attention. I quite literally had a little fairy that would follow me around to make sure I didn’t kill myself.

I didn’t realise I even had these deficits in functioning until I was on my own and had to take full responsibility for my own life. My phone is never charged, I forget to set my alarm, or I accidentally leave my phone on silent when I set it. I am easily sitting up till 5 & 6am, with no concept about the passage of time. I am good at getting my work done, of course, but I am still in some ways struggling with the overwhelming amount of small bullshit tasks I didn’t even realise… I was being propped up.

That 8 months where I lived alone? I had a bad flu, fell asleep on my lounge room floor in front of the heater and my blanket caught fire. I lost 3 wallets and locked myself out twice. And tonight, I rang my ex and I told him that I acknowledge and appreciate the “fairy godmother” role he played without me even knowing. I also made it clear that it didn’t mean I was going back, but a mere acknowledgement that I understand.

So now, I have to put strategies in place to overcome these things. I have an ADHD diagnosis. I have health problems that prelude me from being able to be this A type person I always thought I was… so I need to come to a point of acceptance and say “hey, this is what I need to do to function”. I also need to stop seeing my ADHD issues, and my physical limitations of “becoming crippled” as a failure.

They aren’t failures, per se. They are facts of life that I need to acknowledge and work with. I need to take drugs for the rest of my life. There is no way around it. There is no point getting upset about it because it WILL NOT CHANGE. I will never be able to run a marathon or swim to Rottnest. I will never be able to go to Medical School and I need to accept it as a fact and let go. I will never be able to fully cope with the structures of the world around me because of the way I process information.

I need to accept that I am a good person. I am not a failure and my marriage ending was no-one’s fault.

I will need to accept that I cannot do it alone.

I will need to accept that I need to put strategies in place to help me achieve the things that “normal” people take for granted.

I will need to accept that I am a human being, not a robot. And that if I continue to push myself to my limits, I will die a premature, painful death.

I will need to accept that I need to be more controlled and rigid in the activities I choose. I need to learn to manage my time and my finances more effectively.

I also need to accept that even in spite of all of these strategies, in spite of all the drugs, in spite of all my best efforts… that sometimes… I will STILL fuck up. The strategies I put in place can help it to happen less often, but I will still fuck up. And I am not a failure for it.

And I need to stop being angry about being sick. I need to stop being angry about the almost $900 a month in non-PBS medications I need to take to function. It is what it is. I can take it, or not take it, but there is not point in complaining and stressing about it. I cannot afford it, but I need to find a way to work with it. And, when I need to take 2 days off because I am unwell, despite even the best of treatments, I need to be kind to myself and not let clients bully me.

I need to learn to accept my body and work within the parameters of my disordered view of my body and appearance.

I need to be more assertive and learn to say no… even when I want to do things, or give time, or offer… I keep doing it at the expense of my health, my finances (way too much free or discounted work which is stopping), my time with my children and ultimately, my life. And it just can’t happen anymore.

So, this week, I am working on getting stuff done. Allocating time for everything. Setting alarms. Filling my Calendar to the brim, everything, even the meals I forget to eat, scheduled. In the hope that I can train myself to function and leave time in it for me to actually live rather than exist. My expenses are incredible right now and I’ll be honest, I don’t know where the future lies. Child support, medication, debts & rent alone are insane. But, rather than complaining about it, I can’t change it, so I’ll need to start rolling with it, moving to accept that I need to earn $2000 per WEEK before I even start to do anything fun… and get on with finding the best way to do it.

Scary times, new frontiers, and WTH

by admin on August 29, 2010 in Married Life with No comments

A few weeks ago, I told my husband that I wasn’t happy and wanted to go our separate ways. I have threatened this before, usually during an argument, but… this time, I knew it was different, because it was calm. No fights, no events, nothing…. just… it has been a cumulative thing over a period of about 3 years, where I have come out the other side, suddenly realising that I am different. OK, probably not different, but, just, braver about speaking out. It is hard, writing about this stuff publicly, knowing that I live SO publicly in so many ways… but when it comes to the crunch, I am actually fairly private.

Initiating a separation is harder when the person you are married to has done nothing wrong. Well, nothing deliberate. Because the thoughts are not of getting out of a toxic situation, or an abusive one, or even wanting to be with someone else, but with having to explain to people that it’s just not right for me anymore. Because no matter how I look at it, on the outside it just looks selfish. I feel selfish and mean, and it brings up a lot of issues about my mother and her moving on to another man and ignoring her children… all sorts of things. But, at the same time, I didn’t choose to be married to someone who sits on the spectrum, and if I had have been aware, I probably would have ended it. People keep on asking “what happened?” and offering condolences, etc… but… I feel…. flat. They say that the initiator of a separation often moves through the grieving process prior to making the final decision, and I think that that is what has happened here. My marriage was in trouble from the beginning, and propped up by various events, dramas, the job of raising children, we never had the chance to actually evaluate our relationship.

And because it’s not his fault, and he is a good person, and I genuinely like him, but we just have a completely different outlook on everything… and I feel stifled. Like I can’t even have my own thoughts and feelings anymore without needing to run them through a filter (that will inevitably put it down, or find something wrong with them)… and… I have realised that I am actually pretty special. And I don’t mean that in an arrogant way… but… that… I am really smart. I have BIG ideas and see the world very differently to most people. And I used to think this was a problem with me fitting in and that it was actually me. But, I guess part of growing up, is realising that your ‘weaknesses’ are often only in the context of what other people expect you to be.

  • I am not domestic.
  • I am not an… attentive… partner.
  • I am in my own head.
  • I am a dreamer.
  • I am selfish.
  • I am neurotic.
  • I need to be reassured. CONSTANTLY. Incessantly.
  • I expect full attention with my shit, and don’t listen if I am not interested in yours.

That’s been my whole identity for most of the marriage. Feeling like I need to be less of a dreamer, less of a brainiac, less selfish, less neurotic. Some of those are issues, like, me thinking the world revolves around me, sure, but it wasn’t my strengths, which are many, but about focusing on my weaknesses, and, feeling generally crap about myself all the time because I could not fit into the “wife and mother, part time careerist” model. It was the expected role… my search for meaning being treated as laziness, flakiness and instability, rather than as adventurous, seeking and positive. My marriage, simply, makes me feel bad about myself. Every day. Because the communication difficulties with someone literal or semantic, when you are into exaggeration and hyperbole, erodes you over time. Someone who likes adventure and impulses and enjoys just laying on the beach on a school night… is not compatible with someone who is not only worried about it being a school night, but will go ahead and remind you how right they were when you are tired the next day. A person who doesn’t value money, or mortgages, with someone who love routine and security…. well… it’s just not a good mix. I feel emotionally abused, even if it is not the case – and he does too.

And it sounds like I am slagging him off even when I am writing it… but I am not. It’s just a major, philosophical disconnect, couple with a fundamental incompatibility… that…makes both of us bring out the worst in each other. And I am by no means saying that I am doing Jason a favour by initiating the separation, because that would be so arrogant… but I honestly think that he doesn’t know how he deserves better than that. We BOTH do. And it’s not a matter of seeking counselling, or whatever, we have done all of that. I am now just realising that there is another alternative… which is rather than suffering in quiet, simmering resentment and miscommunication, DAILY, we separate and try to salvage a friendship while we can.

Our friends tell us we belong together, it’s all just so much external pressure. Internally, I feel we should not have gotten married in the first place. And I think that when something so fundamental is incompatible, it’s hard to come back from. I always had the view, even if it is naive, that you should have them ‘get’ you. Like, really get where you are coming from. They don’t have to agree – that would be dull – but to truly understand how each other ticks. And I haven’t felt that way in this relationship. Because of the pressures of needing to have children fairly young, low confidence in my ability to truly… attract someone without ulterior motives… I settled into the relationship that felt comfortable. Because it is comfortable. We are friends. But, we don’t have a marriage.

And it sounds cruel. It sounds like I am leaving him, taking him away from his children because I want to go and find someone else. That’s not it at all. I want to find out who *I* am. Because I have never known. I know that I am clever, and funny, and flawed in a million ways, but everything I have ever done has been in reference to either survival, or in reference to other people. It sounds like the lamest reason ever to end a marriage. But, truth be told, I would prefer to be afraid and lonely and tired… than to live another day in a relationship where both of us resent each other equally. I think Jason sees things my way too and I think that he agrees – it’s hard to tell with him how he’s feeling… but… I think we were limping. In a huge rut. And it really just took someone to actually say it loud and mean it.

So while you might be shocked to hear the news, or might not understand… remember that it’s internal. It’s how I feel. And I feel pretty shit because of it. But, I also don’t want to be 40, 50 and 60, having the same ridiculous conversations because noone had the balls to say that it was an unhealthy relationship.

We may figure it out in the end… and of course that would be great… for everyone else. But, you know, even if I end up being the bad guy in all of this, ultimately all I am answerable to is myself and my children. And they deserve a positive environment as much as I do.

I hope this gives some insight.

The Big D.

by admin on July 24, 2010 in Health with No comments

I am going to a charity ball on Friday night for Lifeline. It’s the inaugural Black Diamond Ball and it is going to be great fun. But I wanted to take a moment and just acknowledge my amazing community of Twitter friends, a lot of whom are going to the ball, but who have also courageously shared their stories about their struggles with depression in the last few weeks. I want to particularly single out my friend Seb, who has set up this brilliant blog where he pours his heart out. Tell me you aren’t instantly smitten with this man. I dare you.

Which, sort of makes it my turn. I blogged last week about being diagnosed with ADHD and how weird that is. And obviously with the stresses of the last 2 years (premature baby, financial problems, health problems, Jason’s injury, grandma’s death) it is understandable that even the most rock solid person would be tested. And I am still very much in grieving mode. I am still aching inside whenever I think about my dear Grandma and how much I miss her already.

People spoke to me through this process as if I was coping well, when inside, I really, truly, was not. I am good at pretending everything is OK, but of course Jason bears the brunt of it. I take Cymbalta to help me get through the day and sometimes it is not enough, and so sometimes I smoke or drink to numb when things are stressful.

I have been depressed for many, many years. In fact, if you held a gun to my head I would probably say that I have been depressed for most of my life. Part of it was the curse of being “gifted” and always feeling different to other kids, but part of it was always how I had such a low opinion of myself that I was my own worst enemy.

I am going to confess something to you. It’s hard work. Without a combination of anti-depressants, stimulants, painkillers and hormones, I am a babbling, crying, screaming, irrational mess. This cool, calm, fairly snarky but otherwise quite together person is not only expensive to maintain, it’s hard work some days. I suffer from clinical depression. I need to be on medications for the rest of my life. And I am forever thankful that I live in 2010 where a) I can get the appropriate treatment and b) people, for the most part, don’t judge.

I find it hard to talk about because people still misunderstand. They think that because I am depressed that I am not happy with my life. My Grandma was a big one for never truly understanding that suffering depression is not about being unhappy with your life. She never understood that you could be miserable and suffering even if you didn’t have a reason for it. In fact, it’s really only clinical depression if there is no reason… but she found it hard to believe.

I find it hard to experience real joy. And my mood often cycles. I assume that every single person that meets me hates me, or finds me a nuisance, or whatever. I don’t take compliments. And despite my bravado, I truly aim very hard to please others because I never feel good enough.

I have a lot of anger and resentment about my “parents”, and as much as I try not to be a mean person, sometimes I am. I lose my temper a LOT. I sabotage friendships, I get paranoid and jealous and have been known to hurl things at my husband’s head. It’s certainly… tumultuous.

But, I do OK. I try to be positive and take pleasure in the little moments, and the medications help a lot. But, I just felt like with a few other friends being open about it and me going to the ball, that it might help others to talk about it as well.

A big ol' virtual swear jar and the online identity crisis.

by admin on February 17, 2010 in Uncategorized with No comments

I have been reflecting quite a bit lately about various things – my online persona, the way I represent myself on social media… how my empassioned and yet foul-mouthed rant about the Internet filter got so much attention… the whole “being in business and trying to get into Medical School” sort of thing… and I have had a bit of a realisation, of sorts.

My online persona is quite at odds with who I am as a person “in real life”. I find it quite shocking when people are surprised that I am quite refined, and sometimes even a little bit reserved in a real life situation… particularly at things like conferences or meetings… or anything else that basically isn’t me hanging out with my closest friends having a rant.

When I was in my 20′s, I built this persona around being… I dunno… a little bit fierce. Saying all those things that would give me some sort of weird Indie cred for saying the word “cunt”, or using the word “fuck” more than use the words “I” or “and”. I built an online identity for being snarky, and taking the piss out of basically anything, because, well… THAT’S WHAT THE INTERNET DOES. THe whole internet was my closest personal friends and we are all at a party where Téa said funny shit.

The internet has changed, somewhat, since I was a lass. We used to join forums, with usernames, that were a pseudonym for various aspects of our personality. not to say it was necessarily a misrepresentation or falsity; but more… it was understood that your “username” was just one aspect of the person.

I think it’s changing. With Facebook having our real names and our real friends and our families and children and mothers and cats on there, our online identities are very much becoming quite literal public representations of a whole person.

At some point “Tealou” the snarky sweary irreverent bloggy person became synonymous with Téa Brennan the mother, the business owner, the friend, the future doctor.

Our online names are now fused with our offline lives in a way that is only just starting to become apparent, and I think that us early-adopters are having the hardest time with it.

I am proud of, and unapologetic about, the content that I have produced over the years. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and reading back on blogs, usenet posts, tweets etc are really all just a moment in time record of my account of history. But, by the same token, at 31 years old, I have started to self reflect and wonder where it is going and what it all means.

I had friends over the other night, and one of my friends was talking to me and made a comment how my language was much less colourful that night. I was a little taken aback, because he’s a fairly recent friend-acquisition and doesn’t have the whole “Tealou persona” thing, where I can say things and people generally understand what I mean.

My answer to him made me really think for days, because I said to him that the whole swearing thing? I do it a) when I am feeling uncomfortable in social situations and b) that I have built this thing over a number of years that people have almost come to expect it of me.

It was at that moment, when I said it, that I realised that I wasn’t really that Tealou person anymore. I mean sure, I am funny. Sure, I swear. Sure, I can also be a bit of a dickhead and overshare. But it is such a small part of who I am that it has occurred to me that people actually HAVE come to expect me to perform a certain role.

It took a couple of very public Re-Tweets & public blog scrutiny to realise that not everyone gets the 3-dimensional me, with that persona history, that early-internet-adopter-safety-of-relative-anonymity thing, that 95% of things I say online are in jest thing…

You know, I am actually a really, really smart person. I am also quite a generous person and will help anyone out who needs it. I am a good and loyal friend and a really good mother to my children. I love them dearly and I love my friends and absolutely don’t show them how much I appreciate them enough. I am actually very shy. I have low self-confidence and make jokes when I am hurting. I work really hard and am also not terribly arrogant. I love my husband.

I think that my persona, in some ways, has diminished a lot of my strongest qualities, and it is for that reason I have decided to tone it down a bit language-wise. Not be so… confrontational and actually try to listen more.

Now of course, it doesn’t mean that I am going to change, or be fake-nice, or not swear at all. But I have decided that the “online persona” of my twenties is at a major disconnect with who I am as a person.

For those who have been on the web for a long time, how are you dealing with growing up online? Has there ever been a point where you have questioned your online identity?

…on the purging of "friends".

by admin on July 8, 2008 in Uncategorized with No comments

This is something I have been giving a lot of thought to lately, mostly because I keep finding myself on the receiving end of friendships that are not good for me.

I made a conscious decision 2 years ago to get rid of people out of my life that were toxic. I distanced myself from friends and family members that ultimately had no interest in who I am, or what I do, and would never make the effort to know either of those things.

But one thing I have noticed, as I start to get moderate amounts of success, is that I now have an emerging network of people in my life who only seem interested in what I can do for them, who I can introduce them to, etc etc. Its not that they are bad for me, per se, but they most certainly aren’t interested in me beyond negotiating discounts for their websites, or getting on a guest list, or whatever suits them at the time.

And, because I am an optimist, and even a tad naive, I often assume that people’s motivations are genuine. And no, I am NOT talking about any one person, just making a general observation.

So it gets me wondering, am I responsible for the types of people I attract? When I am friends with a person, I will give them the earth, it really is just the way I am. I will be generous, open, and candid, and all of those things that I think a friend should be. But I do wonder if that attracts a certain kind of opportunistic type of person, who will capitalise on my capacity for generosity and honesty, and then use it against me when a better deal comes along?

I don’t want to be someone who questions the motives of other people. I already find it hard to connect with people in a meaningful way, and to have that thought would turn me into a complete emotional recluse. But, I do wonder if I need to be more guarded.

I am not alluding to any one event of any one person, just in case you all email me going "are you talking about me?!?!?!" No, I’m not :), I am just genuinely curious about human nature, and whether it is actually normal to have "hangers on" or not. I would especially like to know how you actually deal with this sort of thing, because I am actually about to reach a different level of success that will make it even worse.

How do you know who you can trust and rely on? I have been wrong quite a few times, and I am feeling abit jaded, so reassure me that seeing the good in people is a good quality :)