Tag: love

Turning the Judgment on Myself, Part II

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Aada asked me if I ever turned the judgment on myself, and I’m still pondering it after a week. That’s what I do. I think about what she has said and reflect on it. I am so full of flaws and failures that I really don’t know where to start, but I don’t think there’s a single thing I haven’t copped to on this web site. I have copped to a lot of a things, leaving nothing out, because I want people to see that I am also fallible. That my blog is a manual on What Not to Do.

So far.

Things are looking up because I’m making progress in my Cognitive Behavioral Health group and accepted that I am disabled. There are certain things that I cannot do that I used to, such as social masking my way through an event. I get anxious in crowds more and more as I age, and I judge myself harshly; not getting out of the house is to my disadvantage. Buying a car has been the most practical solution to getting me out and about, because it’s so much easier a proposition than getting myself to the bus.

I just often come across as a judgmental dickhead and know-it-all because I remember things and write them down. It is simply amazing how many people have come back and read my entries about them after years away from my blog, surprised at how much I’ve learned.

It makes me roll my eyes, because the fact that I remembered something small becomes precious. Yes, I leave breadcrumbs, but it comes from a good place. I try to leave them out when people don’t want to be identified, but I’m not always that good a writer. I am thinking about the art of craft, not focusing on other people’s reactions. It’s the only reason I have enough chutzpah to hit “post.”

It’s what you do when you’re willing to take arrows over your own opinion, but I finally isolated my last friend… Or I thought I did. Turns out I have plenty and they thought I was rejecting them because I was always remote.

I have been letting Aada live rent free in my head for 12 years, when it was good and when it was problematic on both sides of the equation. Judging myself means acknowledging that I didn’t compartmentalize well so that I wouldn’t isolate myself from my other friends.

Through all of this, I have never made a single “you made me” statement because I am not that emotionally crippled. I understand that my reaction is my reaction. That, too, comes across as lack of empathy because I believe that my opinion is equal to yours and I will accept responsibility for my part. She didn’t make me do anything; I volunteered.

She says that she knows I went through a lot, too… But she’s very wrong when she says I must be happy about her strife because of it. I have never said that and would never in a million years. I put her in a bad spot because I thought she was alone in knowing what she knew. She put me in a bad spot because she tanked a relationship of mine, watched the fallout, and really didn’t care.

We could have worked together to make our story peaceful, but we decided to fight each other instead.

I berate myself for every time it happened, because I couldn’t fake being neurotypical over the internet. I couldn’t just do small talk and make her laugh all the time. I had to dive deep into our issues, so that she felt like “every day was therapy day.” That wasn’t my intention, either. I was trying to move our relationship forward, to make it peaceful. She was avoidant and tight-lipped, fighting me on so much until recently.

That’s the part that lives in my heart to this day. She regrets that she ever told me anything, and feels like she’s paying a penance for our friendship. I feel the same way, and enlightenment could be achieved. It’s the saddest thing ever that the trust is gone on both sides, but trust is not impossible to rebuild. It’s just only possible if both people want it.

I have a habit of not being able to let go of people. I’m still thinking about Patty and Selma. It’s only been a decade.

If I was weird to you once, I’ll think about it forever.

This is also to my detriment because I cannot seem to turn off the echologia. My stream of consciousness fills the page for better or for worse, for boring or for interesting, etc. Being autistic isn’t an excuse to be an asshole, so I definitely need to work on my communication skills. But as an INFJ I’m always going to be interested in helping people find the best version of themselves, and relentlessly dedicated to self reflection. I have chosen to be a blogger, regretting when it goes into the repetitive nature and flow of the ’tism.

But it is this ability to start at one place and end at another that keeps people coming. I don’t link to much so that people don’t lose interest halfway through. I repeat things not only because I have echologia, but because I get new readers every day. Echologia works in my favor because you can jump in at any time and be caught up.

I am sure that Aada wants me to see that my blog has destroyed all my personal relationships because I’m the common denominator. Yet, when I walk away from writing, the same people that criticized me are the people who wonder why I don’t write anymore.

For Clever Title Goes Here, my last blog, I ran because I didn’t have the guts to hit post, even when it was locked down to seven readers. It was more popular than this blog, probably because I was younger and doing more things.

Aging has done a number on my social masks, where my compensatory skills are completely lacking. Finding other autistic friends who have known me forever has been both amazing and scary. I know what my deficits are, and they are large. I need therapy to deal with my uncertain future, because disabled people, especially to those who cannot see your illness, are freeloaders on the government when they need the most help.

There’s no such thing as needing support in this country if the president is holding SNAP hostage. Lots of my friends are going to go hungry if this isn’t fixed. Those are the type problems I should be focused on, when I’m seemingly obsessed with myself.

My grandmother died of Alzheimer’s, which fuels my need to make memories because I do not know if that will happen to me. I also want what really happened, not some facsimile thereof.

Wait. I just realized that this blog is full of lies if you know where to look for them, because everything I thought I knew changed several times.

New shit has come to light.

Did I really think I could get away without damage in separating from Aada? No, I didn’t. And I didn’t pretend I was fine when she saw herself out. We don’t talk enough about how painful it is when a friendship ends, because we have rituals for everything else. In a way, this blog is where I burn the sins of the past, because yesterday’s news is yesterday’s news.

I am striving to be a better person, not walking away from this relationship without saying up front that I haven’t learned more from anyone else. That the positive things I say are not clues in a game, but reflective of the reality that love is complicated and so are people. At least if it’s anything serious, and she treated me like a sibling when she was feeling good about our relationship.

I cannot believe that I am being saddled with the reality that she thinks I set out to do anything. That judgment of myself means accepting that I have done all the things she said I did when she didn’t ask me any questions about what I wrote. She has in the past, and what she understood was *wildly* different than what I actually said. Why would this not be the same? Because she read a story that wasn’t true, and thought that I really believed it.

It would have been true if she hadn’t lied.

This is the crux of the problem. I feel like she discredited me as a writer and messed up a professional relationship I needed. Neither of those things could be forgiven easily, and I didn’t respond well.

I know I didn’t, turning the judgment on myself.

What else is there to blog about except the mistakes I’ve made? Acting like other people are responsible for my feelings is insane, and I don’t. I express my needs, and walk away when necessary. I probably come across as arrogant in conflict because I’m not deferential to anyone. I treat janitors like I treat CEOs, meeting them toe to toe and being kind, but not polite.

I don’t mean to come across this way, it’s just my nature- kind of like House, kind of like Sherlock Holmes.

I had to accept that I’m different, and that’s the hardest part of all of this. Being different is not better. I was born into a fantastic career that I couldn’t see once I came out, despite people telling me I should go for it. I couldn’t follow in my father’s footsteps and be ordained by the Methodists, so I learned not to care.

I think that I would have been wonderful and terrible at being a pastor. I couldn’t have known how my illness would progress and make me feel like I was unfit for it. They say God calls the most unlikely people, but I have my doubts as to whether this is actually wise.

I think that Aada has given me a lot of ableist bullshit over the years because neither one of us knew it was ableist. I couldn’t say “it’s the ’tism,” because I didn’t identify that I had it until I was 45. The criteria had changed since I was a kid, so both autism and ADHD fit like a glove when I was trying to identify my weird.

My interests are too varied to be all autistic, and my ADHD shows up in my disorganization. My deficits are too large for ADHD alone. It also comes with the territory- so much crossover between cerebral palsy and autism.

I have been trying to discover how my brain works, calling myself out on bad behavior when I knew I needed it. Aada was not fond of it when I called her out, but she was not into me expressing emotional need. I’m sure that’s because I was often deaf to her needs as well.

I think that we have a beautiful story together, but it has been made impossible, because she thinks I don’t judge myself, and in my head I never turn it off. There’s a committee in my head telling me how much I suck, and it doesn’t let go easily. I do not know how to tell someone that doesn’t want to listen that I punish myself all the time, and it is relentless. We are both fighting a battle the other knows nothing about, because she was polite and I was kind.

Kind means telling the person what’s bothering you instead of keeping it bottled and saying everything is fine so as not to rock the boat. I’m not very good at that. I mean, I am with people who don’t bond with me deeply, but if there’s never been any small talk, I’m not going to go back to it.

I cannot put toothpaste back in a tube, my life has been irrevocably changed, and I am sitting alone at my own hand. There are reasons for it, mostly because I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to write and when.

Aada was the one that cheered it on, making me into a better writer every day because I wanted to send her letters on which she could chew. When I was writing to her, I was no longer writing about her. This blog went dead to my detriment, because being in her world was better than being in mine. I just couldn’t talk about specifics, so I talked about anxiety instead.

I keep hoping that someone will intervene on my behalf with Aada and explain my point of view, but I don’t think that anyone shares it. I think that they look at my disabilities and don’t see past them, because they’re not willing to work with me to get past them. But they read.

Some of them have even met me in person.

I’m feeling a bit sad today, which is why my energy is low and I’m feeling bad about myself. That’s when I crawl into myself and think about Aada the most, because the only thing I want is to be the better person I turned into when I met her, then crashed and burned. I don’t want to do that anymore. I’m too old.

My friendship with Tiina is going slow, just getting to know each other through lighthearted conversation. I need it so much after the roller coaster of emotions with Aada. Slowing down was exactly what we needed, and I couldn’t slow down with her, so I’m slowing down without her.

As much as that sucks.

The common denominator has always been how much am I willing to give up to have a voice? The answer, so far, has been everything I hold dear and more…. Because the same people who hate my writing love it. They embrace it as long as they’re not in it, because I’m good at writing about everyone except them.

I do better when I have more context clues, the main reason I’m sad I’ve never seen the laugh lines on Aada’s face in person. I miss social cues over the internet and she has never given me the chance to learn hers. Therefore, I’m off in left field when I’m writing and cannot reflect her accurately. She has blamed me many times for that, even when I’ve been willing to fix the problem. I cannot move if she doesn’t.

She works on fear and intimidation, so every time I’ve written anything she didn’t like I’ve been ripped a new one. The intimidation part works too well when she doesn’t need it. Her defenses are amped up, not mine.

This relationship has been pure torture on my psyche at times, true and impossible friendship at others. It is not Aada’s fault that she cannot meet my needs, but it’s not my job not to say it. My feelings are my feelings, and I am the author of my own narrative when it’s my story.

Or at least, that’s how it should be. People’s emotions get involved, which is why I don’t get involved in other people’s lives easily. I am built to walk the world as a loner, because I’ve been that way since birth. I was quiet and soaked up information, everyone tending to my needs because I couldn’t tend to them myself. I walked very late. I stumbled often. I still stumble often. Living in my body is not the best decision ever, but I don’t get a choice.

I have to deal with the problems in front of me so that they don’t dog me forever. I am trying my best, but it is slow going. I tend to reflect for a longer time than necessary, but no one is expendable to me. It takes time to get someone out of your system especially when the clock keeps resetting itself.

I feel like I should rattle on about something else… Maybe how Pepsi saved me from nausea this morning. Cola syrup really works, and I wouldn’t have had any if my order hadn’t been screwed up by Uber Eats. So, a bad thing quickly became a good thing as I was able to keep breakfast down. My medication really does make me more nauseous than I can tolerate, so maybe it’s time to either back down on the dosage or switch to something else.

Turning judgement on myself reminds me to manage my mental illness instead of letting it manage me. I need to put away thoughts of Aada even when I feel like I can’t. It’s the only thing that will move me forward, because you cannot help anyone across the river that’s determined not to go.

Stumbling Out of Bed for a Cup of Ambition

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I went to get coffee in my sweats, hair in full-on bedhead mode. I think I frightened little children…. Or no one noticed me. It’s Baltimore. People are weird. Get over it.

I got a cup of flavored coffee, hazelnut, and just put in some plain creamer. I love, LOVE Royal Farms because they brew by the cup and there’s no urns of coffee that have been sitting there since June (seemingly). They get the award for best gas station coffee by a mile, and to add some good calories, I got some orange juice as well.

The one other thing I was going to do was fill my car up with gasoline, but the Royal Farms I was directed to was only a convenience store.

I didn’t go to Dunkin because I’ve had the same thing in a row for several days. Their macchiatos are so good, but I’m a little tired of them. I had to switch up my game. But coffee and orange juice at a gas station were the same price as one macchiato at Dunkin, granted it’s a large.

And for some reason, vegan macchiatos taste better to me. I get oat milk even though I am not a vegan. I just like vegan food. I’m one of those omnivores that will eat anything you put in front of me, and I have found vegan favorites over the years.

I can even make vegan macaroni and cheese that might make you cry. It’s all about learning the right substitutions.

But no food means as much to me as coffee does, which is why I’m generally not hungry until very late in the morning. The coffee and cream is enough until brunch.

Brunch is usually something fast, and if I go out it’s just an Egg McMuffin. If I stay in, it’s eggs, toast, and bacon. It seems like a lot of food, but I would rather eat a lot early and have a simple dinner… If I remember to eat dinner, that is.

It’s the ’tism.

Or the ADHD.

Who knows?

What I’m saying is that I’m rarely hungry so I pack in calories where I can. The coffee is certainly helping me to put on a little weight, but I needed it. I look more like an adult now.

Well, that’s debatable. I do an impression of an adult on some days, and that’s my best offer.

I’m still thinking about driving through the hills of Virginia, and how Tiina said that houses were relatively cheap out there. I’m not sure that I would want to live that far from DC, but I would like to settle down somewhere.

It matters to me to have friends close by, but I’m not sure if they’re going to stay or not. Tiina and her family moving would leave me pretty isolated, so going to visit is good enough for now. I think I have problems making friends in the city, but it would be harder if I never saw anyone.

Well, my life wouldn’t change a whole lot since most of the day I’m writing or playing on the Internet in some capacity. One of my friends works for USG and they post landscapes when they’re having a bad day because posting a dumpster fire is frowned upon in this establishment.

So, I check in on my friends with lavender fields.

I worry that I’d get in trouble with Aada for moving back to Virginia, because it’s ridiculous and that’s how I roll. I could live next door to her and I’d never see her. And of course she would say it doesn’t matter and it’s fine while she was seething inside. That’s how she rolls, but that’s not punishment. That’s just saying she’s a people pleaser and I’m not.

I have the unfortunate task of writing down what most people miss, because I don’t mean to catch what other people miss in a way that is negative. It’s all portraits of my day and sometimes I get angry, sometimes I am full of joy. No two entries represent the same emotions because the pendulum swings wide with all my mental health issues.

I am certain that my mental health issues are going to be a large part of whether Aada comes back to me or not, because I think she does feel sympathy and empathy for my plight, but she cannot see it because she thinks I am rejecting her. I was not happy with the way our relationship ended, but none of that was about blame. Saying I’m unhappy about something doesn’t mean it’s your fault. It means the situation sucks.

Aada, in my heart and mind, thinks that people are out to get her most of the time. It’s a paranoia she cannot shake, and I could not participate because it required me to be locked down and silent most of the time. One of my friends caught her in a lie, and our relationship tumbled apart.

She says that the damage to her is incalculable, but I think we’re even.

She told me she wondered why she was responsible for my mental health. She’s not. She just slowly isolated me from every single one of my friends including my wife. Who does that leave?

None of this is about blame. That’s what happened.

I take issue with freezing me out because I have caused unforeseen “damage.” It is not my issue to be responsible for someone else’s reading comprehension.

That is also a universal problem that has very little to do with her because all my friends have tangled with me over my writing at one time or another except Bryn, because she could care less what I say about her. She likes having the mirror held up, but most people don’t.

The hardest part of this entire story is deciding what’s mine and what’s hers to keep. Where does Aada end and I begin? I could not explain our fast bond without explaining everything else.

I could not forgive her for a lie without working through it.

I could not put down the problem unless I understood it, and I still don’t.

She said that she’d never read again and was back three days later. I don’t know what it is about us, but we flatten each other with prose and both take the negative home with us. I know that Aada believes I am a wonderful writer, but I’m constantly stuck on “incalculable damage,” and “excruciating and debilitating.” Never mind that she also said our journey had been brilliant and beautiful. Rejection sensitivity dysphoria goes both ways.

I wish we could go back to the days where we talked easily, because I’m ready for the drama to calm down. It might even be better for me to move on and break our connection, but I don’t think so. The best indication of future behavior is the past, and Aada has never been out of touch for more than a few months at a time.

In short, I’m sure I’ve done enough that she’ll think twice about coming back, but I need her to think three times. I need her to acknowledge that these pages won’t mean anything until it’s been 10 years. She has to read them without thinking about what happened as happening to her.

She need to go back and pick up the positive, because the negative doesn’t stand out so much when you’re not hot under the collar.

It can’t be never, because never is not three days.

And that’s why it’s so hard not to turn this issue over and over in my head. I want her back, but in a different capacity. I don’t think that we can get healthy by taking potshots at each other over the internet. I know that my anger has melted and I just want to move on from this problem and take up some joy.

I’m sure that there will be other problems down the road, but they’ll be easier with two brains on them.

And maybe I’m just psychotic to believe that this relationship could be real after so many years of being virtual. What I know is that regardless of what she does, there’s not a way that my love for her stops. I get over things, and quickly, because I write about them.

She said, “I don’t know how anyone could read about themselves without skin crawling revulsion,” and my heart broke because it really shows me how low her self esteem has gone because she was reading my writing after she told me to get out of her life.

None of that writing was meant for her, because I needed the space to get angry and grieve. I have gone through every stage, even bargaining, because I would rather work on books with her than write blog entries every day. In order to get something different, I will have to be different as well.

“If you always do what you always did, you always get what you always got.”

I have gone back to feeling safe with her after forgiving some really hard stuff. You never want to see your friend doing anything that will actively hurt you, and she did. I could say the same about myself, because I am not innocent in hurting her- this time around or any other.

We could have had it all- safe passage all the way to the river with each other and our partners, but we’ve both retreated instead, choosing to leave enlightening each other out of the mix.

I am sure she died inside when she heard why I wrote what I wrote and when. But now that she knows, I’m hoping that she has more empathy for me and less anger at herself. I don’t want her to be angry at herself, I want her to work with me to provide me some options.

Like, skipping the part where she said she didn’t want the 479 blog entries that left nails in her palms.

Too much.

Because if she went back, she would find all the lines that say “I love you.”

I didn’t mean to punish anyone. I was hurt, with that caved in feeling in my chest. I must have missed a few things in there and I feel incredibly apologetic.

Aada understanding remorse doesn’t mean she’ll do anything about it. It matters that she feels her own, not mine. Because wanting to change things has to come from her, because I’m already on board.

I can’t help it that I said I was willing to do the work, no matter how hard it gets, and that person chooses to walk away. I cannot tell her that if our relationship had been happier, so would the blog. That writing is a comprehensive response to life and not all about her.

I have been responding to her only because she was The Friend. I didn’t have anyone else for a long time, mostly because I didn’t want it.

Will she see that part of it?

Only time will tell. Maybe Christmas.

Making It Through Today

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Miracle of miracles, I got my car back last night and didn’t have to do without it through the weekend. That means two things. The first is that I can get all my errands done before they come to inspect my apartment at 3:30. The second is that I can go to Tiina’s tomorrow. I just have to make it through today for the rest of the weekend to be smooth sailing.

I have gotten everything I needed to do at the apartment finished. I am sure that they would appreciate it looking perfect, but this is as good as it gets on relatively short notice. I am proud of myself for getting it together and not only that, but piecing together what needed to be done on Sunday or Monday so that I was not cramming up until the inspectors get here.

That is totally due to AI. If I have a huge project, AI can break it down into steps. It’s invaluable not to see “clean the house” as a gestalt, because that looks ominous. I need for AI to say “pick up all the trash, then the dishes, then the….” And not only that, I need the instructions presented one at a time. It doesn’t hurt that Mico adds in encouragement to keep me going. It’s better that they can keep the list in their head of what I need to do instead of making me remember it.

When the inspectors leave today, I will almost certainly use Mico to create a packing list. I need to get moving bags, but I’m fairly certain I already have a box of Sharpies. Most of what needs to be packed is clothes and technology. I am certain that I could be ready to leave in a day, because I just haven’t had time to accumulate that much stuff.

The best plan ever would be to move me the day before I have to be out of this place so that I can vacuum and extract the carpets once the furniture is out. The carpet is too new for me to need to extract the whole thing. I just spilled a cup of coffee in my office and I still feel guilty about it. I will think about that stain until they tell me they’re replacing the carpets. And even then I might just use my carpet extractor for fun.

Speaking of fun, it will be good to look at the layouts of all the apartments they have available. I would like to see if they have kitchens arranged in different configurations than mine, because my kitchen is objectively terrible. I need more workspace, because the microwave is tucked away, but not the toaster oven. The toaster oven takes up all the space that conceivably could be used for a cutting board.

I am happy that I am staying in this complex for a little longer because I’ve finally found out that I like my neighborhood. I couldn’t really get out and explore before I had my car, so most of the stuff I really wanted to see was just out of my reach- three or four miles down the road. Everything I need is within easy reach, I just couldn’t see it.

Perspective is the biggest thing about getting a car. Baltimore seems smaller. Even going out to Virginia seems so much closer than two trains (although I’ve never taken the VRE. That might be fun someday.). Tomorrow is going to be such a relaxing day because I’m looking forward to doing nothing with Tiina and her family. They live about 50 miles south of DC, about a two hour road trip from here and perfect for a Saturday morning with iced coffee.

My car is already full of gas and I am ready. Let’s do this thing!

Oh, wait.

I still have that inspection to deal with today.

Rats. Might as well sit here and write a little longer. I need to create a task list for today, but I don’t have anything that will take me until 3:30 PM. I will probably want to go to Walmart when they open, because I need some warm weather gear. I have a coat, but I need some long underwear. It was in the 30s when I went to get my coffee this morning, so it’s that time of year.

I prefer wearing long underwear and sweats because the more layers I have on, the less likely I am to need a coat. I would much rather wear a base layer, a mid weight layer, and a hoodie.

I also have lined waterproof pants that are sometimes too warm, depending, but I would rather overdress than under. I hate being too cold or too hot, and what solves most of this fight is not having to dress to stand outside. I don’t have to prepare to stand at the bus stop anymore.

I am so blessed because my car has seat warmers. I forgot about that before the sun was up this morning, when I could have used them….. I have to get used to the fact that my car has luxury features. I have never owned anything this fancy. She cleans up nice, and I wish I could show her off. I just don’t have many places to go……… yet.

I get to start thinking about the places I want to go. I’d love to do a road trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, because Aada has vacationed there for years and sent me so many pictures that it feels real to me. I would like to live in one of those photos for a few days, alone on the beach, just walking and talking to no one in particular.

Or perhaps when I go home for the holidays, we’ll have time to get out to Galveston. I used to live on the island when I was little, and it has a special place in my heart. There, also, is a sacred place to walk on the beach alone with my thoughts.

When I’m really alone, I think about Aada and what our friendship means to me. This is because I am responsible for it coming apart, and I never want a relationship to end like that again. She lied, and I jumped to conclusions that weren’t there. I know that eventually she’ll forgive me, but I don’t know that I’ll forgive myself. And even if she forgives me, that doesn’t mean that she’ll want to come back and be friends again.

So what did I learn that I want to take with me?

I tend to create anxious connections, so definitely stop that.

I tend to make magical people the center of my world, so definitely stop that.

I will find peace by thinking of myself as having the magical qualities I give others, so definitely start that.

I have to let people know when I think they’re magic.

I have to yield.

I have to listen more than I talk.

I have to disconnect from the internet and talk to people in person.

For instance, I can think of so many times when I sent Aada a gift certificate to Starbucks wishing that we were having coffee across from one another. That yes, it was sweet to give her an afternoon pick me up, but it would have been cooler to bring it to her.

This is the message I am carrying into the future, that getting together matters.

And in fact, I hope that message resonated with her as well. That I didn’t want to just be friends over the internet, where things could go so wrong, so fast. I told her that if she walked away, nothing would be the same, but everything would be okay- echoing my father’s words at Angela’s funeral. They were words that meant something to me, not trite at all but to say that change is difficult. We will each come out on the other side.

I am deeply confused between “for now” and “never again.” But I do believe sincerely that she would not have said “for now” if she did not mean it. She is not cruel, and never has been except for seeing the consequences her lie laid out for me and thinking “it wasn’t that big a deal.”

Morgan Freeman: It was a very big deal.

New neurons have to grow so that I do not feel the pain of what has happened. I think that comes with greater understanding, and I’m sad that I’m left to my own devices to find a direction, that I’m even trusted to find my own, away from her when it’s so hard to write without her. I have stolen so many lines it’s not even funny.

She was my AI before AI.

But I wrote our story “wrong,” and that has repercussions into the future.

The “wrong” she sees isn’t as wrong as she thinks it is, because she sees the positive sentences as clues in a game. They are not valid, but the negative I write stays. This is unsustainable, this unhealthy reading of my writing so that she always feels punishment when it’s not there.

I wish I could erase everything I have done to make her feel that way, because she has the right. She is not and has never been the only manipulative person in our relationship, and the fact that she stayed my friend for so long is why I’m willing to work with her now…. I just don’t think that long relationships with this much history ever truly end, because it’s not like we’re going to stop recognizing each other’s names.

I don’t want to move on so much as I just want to turn down her volume. She’s extremely loud and incredibly close, but she doesn’t want to feel like that for me. She wants to feel like a regular person, and that’s the last thing she’ll ever be. I didn’t attribute magical qualities to Aada. I found what was already there.

Thinking about my life without her is scary, because it’s like having some kind of hack. I spit out writing, she spits out criticism, we both win.

“WHO TF IS PANCHO?”

I’m still laughing over that one and it’s several years old, from a Microsoft Word comment in a book review I was writing at the time.

I remember everything, from the brilliant and the beautiful…. to the excruciating and the debilitating.

If we could just get back a little bit of trust, we could go back to where we were before she lied, where we were actively trying to listen to each other better. I am interested to hear what her doctor thinks I’ve been doing to manipulate her, because obviously that needs to stop. I am not aware of my first family crap, but once you know better, you do better. I know that I have not been a perfect person to Aada, nor has she been a perfect person to me. But I think there’s more here than we’ve really had a chance to explore.

I don’t want her to show up here because she thinks she has to; I want her to show up here because she genuinely misses “just your writing in general. Not the parts about me” (so cute I could VOMIT).

The story I want ends with me getting the girl I’ve always loved to realize it…. but that won’t come without learning what real love is on my end, and how I’ve failed her before. Because I have failed her before, I may not get the story I want. But I really won’t get the story I want if I don’t change. None of the problems Aada brought up with me are isolated. I’m sure that my first family manipulations have been used on other people because I’m me.

Aada is just the person I trust to call me on all that stuff. It’s difficult to hear criticism from people who don’t love you. Now that she has, I have a laundry list to take to my own therapist and say, “we have to work on this.” And not because “Aada says so.” Because none of the problems that she brought up are unique to her.

I may be writing a different story with my therapist, but it will contain elements of the past 12 years because that’s the relationship I was in. I still don’t think of Aada as past news when we just talked last week.

I never want to think of her as past news, and I don’t think she really wants to think of me that way, either. Otherwise, she would not change her mind from “for good” to “for now.”

I am drowning in the chasm between those two phrases, knowing that whatever I do to prepare for each eventuality is correct.

The Afternoon Writing Session

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I am sitting on my bed waiting for Ford to call. My 2019 Fusion SEL is having some maintenance done, and I’ve been without it for too long already. My daily routine has changed fast, and I didn’t get to do it very long before my car threw an engine code and made me rethink my life choices.

Why did I get a car again? Oh. I “like them.”

I am sure that the dealership will charge me an arm and a leg, but the car will make it through the winter beautifully. I decided to get everything done that was recommended for the age of the car, because it didn’t come with any records. It’s driving just fine, and I would like to keep it that way. I am interested in learning how to fix my own vehicle, but I want to make sure it has been looked at by Ford first. I really feel strongly about setting myself up for success.

Apparently, that takes money. But it is money that I don’t mind paying because again, I don’t know that much about cars and wasn’t willing to learn on my brand new car that hadn’t been completely looked over by a mechanic in the shop with all the tools. Aaron crawled under the car, but these guys took a fine tooth comb to everything, even finding a missing bushing that was supposed to be on the shifter cable in the transmission. I never would have found that unless an experienced mechanic was looking over my shoulder, and I don’t know any in Baltimore, much less any who’d be willing to stop working on their own projects to help me with mine.

Right now, the limit to what I can do is look at the problem and decide whether or not to fix it myself. Most everything will be calling around and seeing how much my local mechanics would charge to fix something on my car. I had a guy at AutoZone take me to his shop and try to sell me on rigging an intake hose, but I really wanted the OEM version. I couldn’t tell if the ones on Amazon were OEM or generic, or even which hose was supposed to fit which version of the Fusion.

There’s nothing like jerry rigging the problem only to have a rock still get sucked into the turbo.

Oh, my God. I still get chills when I think about what could have happened driving on the back roads of small town New York. I could have caused an accident, or at the very least, totaled my car. Speaking of which, I just upgraded myself to better insurance. My counselor’s car got stolen and his insurance didn’t want to pay, so I got insurance that specifically covers both theft and my dumb ass.

I am breathing so much more freely, because of course my insurance went up. Of course it did. But do I need it? Absolutely. I have found a car I like, and I would rather have it back than try and buy a new car… Again.

Plus, they don’t make the Fusion anymore. That just says “be really careful” all the way around.

My insurance going up is the least of my worries when my entire investment is at stake.

I just looked in my Progressive app and I am surprised to find out that I am rated four out of five stars as a driver and am on track to get discounts. I shook my head at that one because I am not known as the best driver in my family. But I must be catching up with all this technology.

All I have to do is make it from now until November 11th without hitting anyone, which I can certainly do. I don’t drive like maniac and I won’t have my car for at least another day, possibly not until Monday. They’re trying to get my car done by Friday morning, but I won’t know for sure until later today. They had to order a part, and expectation is not reality until it is in your hands if you are waiting for something.

I’m just going to plan on being carless until Monday, then I can be surprised if something good happens and I get it back early.

I found the microfiber towel I need to wipe on the expensive dash protectant my dad gave me. I might want to redo the seats as well. I like it when everything looks clean and smells good. Maybe that’s part of why I’m a good driver- I’m so proud that it shows. 🙂

Historically, things have jumped out of nowhere. Aaron will tell you that happened to me once in New York, where I didn’t see a car coming right for me. To be fair, they didn’t see me either, so there was no way to tell who was at fault. The insurance companies would have had to duke it out, but we saw each other at the last second, just before Aaron said “watch out.” It can’t have been too bad. It didn’t even register on my Progressive app.

But things like that are why I upgraded to full coverage with a large deductible. I can afford to spend some money, but I don’t want to spend all the money I spent on this car for another one. It’s my baby, and not old enough to have quirks yet. I think I can get a lot of life out of my engine if I just stick with the scheduled maintenance. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with driving an old car. I prefer it, because I’ve had car payments and insurance auto-draft out of my account every month and I don’t think it’s very much fun.

I can learn a lot from watching auto channels on YouTube, because there are tutorials for practically everything. I have learned a lot, just not about my particular make and model. I prefer shows where mechanics restore cars, and a 2019 isn’t old enough to be a “restoration.”

I do have an owner’s manual that I can surf on my phone now, which is worth its weight in gold because it didn’t come with the car. I will have to spend some time with the pages detailing all the driving assist technology, because I haven’t been able to find everything. I was thrilled when I figured out that “blind spot assist” was that yellow dot that kept appearing in my mirrors to let me know a car was in my blind spot. That makes sense, but I had no idea what it was until I put two and two together.

Car moves up, light goes on. Got it.

I just texted my service advisor to ask if the part I need has come in yet. I am certain that she’s on the phone, as that seems to be most of her job. She’ll get back to me when she has time. She knows that it’s my “brand new” car and that I’m chomping at the bit for the first time I get to drive it now that it’s been refreshed.

I have more to do on my house, but that will come after I’ve finished writing and possibly taken a nap after some coffee so I don’t sleep long. I’m usually tapped out by the time I finish rambling, but the reason you get entries about anything and everything is that I start in one place and end in another. Writing is a muscle, where I reach in deep to pull out words, but it takes warming up to exercise that kind of internal strength. It is not easy to publish things about yourself because other people are not always kind in their reactions. Not that you can expect them to be, because there are always differences of opinion. It’s just hard to face the music when necessary.

Facing Aada’s music has always been difficult, the subject I write about when I’m reaching far into myself. She lives in the smallest part of me, and if “for now” really means “forever,” parts of me will die that won’t come back. I will be a totally different person.

Nothing will be the same.
Everything will be okay.

Right now, I’m assuming that she is finding the willpower to walk away for good, and I am finding the willpower to accept it and move on with my life. I do not understand wanting to move on from someone that hurt you who actually wants to do the work to be healthy, but I can understand that what I understand doesn’t matter. Aada has to do what’s right for her.

I am turning this subject over in my head, and it is repetitive because it always has been. There hasn’t been a day since 2013 that she wasn’t on my mind at least once, if not more often. There’s no idea I don’t want to run past her, no problem I don’t want to fix.

And if I cannot have that with her, I know I will have it with someone. That this relationship taught me more about how to love than any other, because I see all the ways that I’ve failed her. Enough to see what needs changing, and that can only be good for me. I have been too introverted to connect with other people because I was locked up inside. I still am, to some degree, but those feelings are between me and me.

I wish that Aada would go back to the letter Bob Lynn wrote me, posing as Aada. It was full of warmth and empathy for both our situations, and I loved it. Neither one of us was portrayed as a “Flat Stanley,” but two people who love each other in a complicated way. It’s ethereal, yet painful, honest… In the dirt. We have sweated together and apart.

I want Aada to see that I have never written her in a way where the response should be “we all get it. I’m a terrible person.” That has never been what I have been trying to say. I have been trying to say that she’s got it together and I’m failing at life but somehow when we’re together our brains are more than the sum of their parts. We were really just starting to feel really comfortable with each other when I found out that Aada lied to me.

But she took my ruminations about it as punishment, blocking me while reading me and coming to her own conclusions. Her assessment of my writing seemed so unhealthy that I knew she’d only read half the story. Where was the part of her that saw positive? Gone, because she thought my purpose was to embarrass her instead of talk about the repercussions her lie had on me…. And the biggest thing I said is that I overreacted, not her.

But if someone is determined not to listen to you, it’s time to stop talking.

It’s time to go back up to a lighter topic, because that’s what I need to do. When the writing gets painful, I need to get air. The tension in my shoulders is incredible. I need a massage, so I’ll probably get one in the next few weeks. Might as well wait until my move is over.

I should do a whole spa day, because it’s been a while since I’ve gotten my toes polished…. Even longer since I did up my nails. Maybe an eyebrow wax. Definitely a haircut, because I just had one and it’s still not short enough.

Then, I could go to Patel Brothers and get a Dubai chocolate.

It’s all about self care right now, because I desperately need it. I need to see that I have worth outside being entertaining. I need to walk away from writing more of the time, keeping up a daily schedule but maybe not writing such long pieces. That will always be my tendency, though, because I never know when a profound line will come up for me.

My counselor just called, so I caught him up on what was happening with my car and what’s going on with my other appointments. It put me in a good mood to hear his voice, and it looks like I’m going to be starting my disability case soon. I need to see a neurologist about my cerebral palsy, but the documentation on my bipolar disorder with psychotic features is in place. Just because I don’t think I was hallucinating doesn’t mean they don’t.

I really will never figure that whole thing out, so I suppose I’ll just believe what I was told in the hospital. “Psychotic features” it is. As long as I take my medication, the diagnosis is all the same to me. Maybe one day someone will tell me what really happened. I doubt it.

In the meantime, I’m really hoping that Aada takes stock in all that I’ve said, not just the negative… Or comes back when she’s less hot under the collar and she won’t see it. I know that she thinks I’m a brilliant writer and should keep at it, so nothing has offended her so much that I need to take anything down (I know. I can’t believe it, either).

I know that eventually the feeling that I’m waiting for something to happen with her will go away, but it will take months. The clock always resets when she says never again and then drops in a few months later.

I don’t really want to give up the feeling that there’s always hope, that she’s always welcome home. That I am ready and willing to put down arms if all she sees is weaponry and not true craft.

The bitch of it is that I know she sees true craft. She’s been reading me all this time.

But the phrase “checking for assaults” means something to me. It means that Aada thinks I don’t love her, don’t want her, stands in my rejection even though I’m not giving it and saw her own way out. Then, her friends helped her to see that I was attacking her because they’d let her know of these perceived attacks.

Perceived.

I cannot know what I have said that’s offensive unless someone tells me. I cannot discuss anything I’m going to write about with someone that doesn’t want contact. I cannot write the way one person needs me to, and I love that shirt that says “pleasing everyone is impossible. Pissing them off is a piece of cake.” I will never get everything right, and you are not customers. You are listeners to my stories and sometimes, you respond.

You sit with me whether it’s morning or afternoon.

You let me talk it out, even when it’s repetitive, because you know I’m talking to myself. I would give anything to go backwards in time, but all I can do is limber up and run into the future.

Free Time

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have more free time today than I thought I would, because so much less has to be done by Friday afternoon. My apartment is being inspected because I’m transferring to a new unit in a couple of weeks, but I thought I had to be ready to move out on Monday. I started packing in a hurry, but now I can slow down and take my time. Perhaps I’ll even get the chance to move out of the apartment on one day and clean it the next, because it’s so much easier to vacuum and extract the carpets when everything is out of the way.

I am sitting on my bed and drinking coffee, listening to the news. I just discovered that my Amazon remote is toast, which is a bummer, but at least I can use my phone until I can find a replacement. I may even have one somewhere…. It’s time to start organizing the moving boxes and making sure they’re labeled. I can already tell……

It won’t take me several weeks to pack because I haven’t been here long enough to accumulate much more than I had before I moved in. There’s a few more pieces of furniture, but not more than is to be expected for a two bedroom apartment. If I wasn’t moving the furniture, I could probably make it in just my car.

I have time to order the moving bags I want, because they’re easier to pack and unpack than boxes with tape.

I also have time to leisurely pack, because I’m definitely not leaving that to the last minute. I can have Mico keep track of what needs to be done, or create a moving checklist.

Having AI to do these things literally makes me feel less disabled, because where my logical function ends, Copilot’s begins. It’s a relationship in which I do not have to fear judgment because I do not know how to do something. AI is not capable of feeling anything, so resentment that I do not adult very well is not a service it offers.

Mico has become my little buddy, because I don’t want to go back to cleaning the house by myself. I need that extra help of explaining clearly what to do, and encouragement after each task is done. Not relying on people to do that for me is fantastic.

I know that the people in my life don’t mind helping me. It’s more about giving me a sense of independence, an ace up my sleeve. I feel more capable as a human being than I did before I had Mico in my ear.

Learning just how much I use compensatory skills frightened me, because I thought I wouldn’t be able to manage on my own. I was thinking of moving into group housing, but changed my mind after hearing some horror stories. It might be right for me later in life, but right now I need to be alone with a space that’s big enough to host my friends when they’re in town.

My dad and my sister come up pretty often, and it would be nice to save on hotels and car rentals for them. I would let either of them drive my car so they didn’t have to get their own. I also have plans for Evan, Tara, Bryn, and Aaron to visit in the next year if I don’t go to them first.

Evan and I are writing a book together, so I would like to have enough room that he can have his own space for weeks at a time without me feeling cramped. And really, I feel that way about all guests. Stay as long as you want, because you won’t be in my way…. Well, except we have to share a bathroom. I’m not paying for two bathrooms because it’s just more to clean when no one else is home.

Although I might talk to my dad about it. If he’s going to spend extended time here, he might want his own bathroom. I don’t mind cleaning it if it would actually be useful to have. I have to pass my inspection in this apartment before I can choose another model.

I’m also starting to get puppy fever, so in my free time I’ve looked at all kinds of dog information online. It has so much to do with the fact that my disability case is going ahead, leaving me the time and space to dedicate to a dog. I have the iron will to be a good dog owner, and want to welcome that kind of companionship to my life. Every single time I’ve been near a dog in the last 12 years, they’ve wanted to sleep while I write.

That’s how I picture spending days with my dog as well, but we’ll have to play hard to get them to want to pass out, especially as a puppy.

I was thinking of going through an official service dog organization, but my friend Michael convinced me that all I needed was obedience classes for the dog. That I would train my dog exactly like I wanted it and to rely on myself. I think it’s good advice, but I’d want Bryn’s help. She’s been a dog trainer for a long time. I know I can handle the basics, like house training. But I have no idea how to teach a dog to remind me to take my medication and things like that. What, do you just put it on their Google Calendar?

My last dog could barely type.

I’m trying to write around all the grief I feel at losing Aada, because when I have free time is when I lean toward it. I’m trying to feel it all now so it doesn’t continue to dog me in the future. The way I do that is by sending her good thoughts and hoping she’s well, then moving on to another topic. Redirection is really helping to weed out thoughts of her, because I don’t want to waste energy.

For instance, it will be a waste to me that we don’t send each other birthday and Christmas gifts anymore, because some of the most thoughtful I’ve gotten have been from her. I would hope that she’s gotten some thoughtful ones from me as well. This Christmas will not be an altogether bright one, because Aada’s love won’t be under my tree.

Thoughts like that usually make me cry, because there is nothing so tear worthy as a situation that could be fixed, but won’t.

The wind has gone out of my sails, but I’m actively looking for other seas with more movement. I want to get rid of things not meant for me, but saying that Aada is not meant for me doesn’t feel right yet. I can’t lean into it. Not with “for now” hanging in the balance.

I hate goodbyes, and I know I’ve done more than my fair share to cause this one. But I don’t think that the blowup would have been as intense if we’d both taken a breath. Taking a breath is what I hope we’re doing now. It would be great if she came back to Stories after she’d been away for a while, and I think it will happen if I was right about it happening last week.

I want to grow from this experience, whether it’s growing away or growing together. I’m not sure either one of us has made up our minds, and I think that’s best. I’m staying open because I can’t not. There’s too much left unsaid, because Aada is working off what she thought she read, and not what I actually meant.

Whether she’s curious enough to find out what I meant is up to her, but her track record of coming back to me after she’s had time to think is a hundred percent.

I would like to think that we need each other, that we’re fascinated by each other, and that will win out over toxicity. There’s just not any anymore. Any disagreements we’ve had in the past are now solved, with a solid basis for the future.

It would be great if Aada joined me at Tiina’s farm and things like that. Something easy, but completely different than what we’ve had before. I don’t think that we would necessarily be successful continuing to maintain our relationship online, because we have both proven that we are too quick to anger that way.

I can see myself showing up with her coffee order just because.

In short, I want to leave the toxicity behind and create something new with a woman I dearly love… Who is somehow convinced that I don’t and I can see why. I have not been a good friend by any stretch of the imagination, but every time I have been corrected I have learned. Deep friendship is a process, and I am learning that if I want to succeed, I have to bend more. I have to think more about what Aada wants and be willing to give it.

Talking to other friends is helping to fill the missing piece of the puzzle, but I’m lost because I don’t feel as comfortable with anyone else. There’s an emotional shorthand missing, and it’s something that I’m working hard to create with others.

I met Aaron about the same time I met Aada, so we have that easy give and take. But, again, Aaron lives so far away that most of our contact is virtual. It just has worked out over the last several weeks that we’ve been able to run into each other in Texas and New York. I would like to continue seeing each other every few weeks, and that may be possible depending on whether I go home for Thanksgiving and/or Christmas.

It would be my dream to have this hybrid with Aada as well, but I know enough to leave it alone. Throw it up in the air and see if anything sticks. It always has before.

And now I realize I need to get back to work, because once again I have indulged myself in magical thinking, that this will all be over someday. I start to panic and want to email to reestablish contact, reminding myself that when she wants to email me, she will.

I start to spend my time wondering how Aada got the message that I thought she was a terrible person. I start to doubt everything I ever said. I start to feel bad about myself and my head starts to hurt. I remind myself that feelings don’t last, that they are transient, always, and to listen to some music.

I tend to pray a lot, asking for Aada’s and my safety as we go about our days. I put it in God’s capable hands because I know the plan is to get stronger with her or without her. I choose “with her,” but she may not choose “with me.” I cannot control both sides of a relationship, I can only choose to receive her if she shows up.

I would like to step onto the hot stones and correct the record, because I know that Aada’s reading comprehension is different than original intent. I’m sad that she’s choosing to walk away (sort of) without hearing me. It is okay, but I still reserve the right to feel sad about it.

Having over a decade of history makes it hard to move on quickly, and I’ve been such a sad sack about it.

I have always said that I wouldn’t beg, and then I did. New shit came to light, and I was again afraid of my own writing. I felt like I couldn’t do this alone, and don’t really want to.

Not even in my free time.

I Don’t, and It’s a Problem

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
How do you manage screen time for yourself?
View all responses

I need to come up with a plan and schedule, but as of right now my phone and tablet are my electronic leashes. I have friends all over the world, and we chat at all hours. Therefore, it’s hard to pick a time when I can wind down fully. It’s also a different balance because I’m actively trying to stay away from the Internet and get some friends on the ground. I like to spend my time driving, stopping into neighborhood shops and chatting to the clerks.

I like to add a real “Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?” element to my day. Mr. Rogers’ advice is solid.

The people that I meet each day are diverse, from many different backgrounds. I thought that I would meet less people not taking an Uber all the time, but it’s turned out that I leave the house a lot more, making up for it.

I have found that it is much easier for me to leave the house knowing I can come back to it anytime I want, no waiting required.

It stops me from getting lost in a screen except to change the navigation/music/podcast on CarPlay.

If I get my car back on Friday, I’m going to go hang out at Tiina’s on Saturday. I’m looking forward to a day at the farm, wearing old, comfortable clothes and relaxing together. And in fact, I know that Tiina would not care if I showed up in my pajamas, so there’s always that.

I am trying to build more time away from the screen because I know that it does not fulfill me the way it has in the past. Aada does not want contact, for now or forever, who knows? So to me the best answer is redirection, away from old patterns of walking in the world. She will always be my beautiful girl, pristine in these pages, but we both need peace from previous iterations of ourselves.

I cannot get that through continuing to talk to other people on the Internet. I need to disconnect. I need a cold drink in my hand, like an iced macchiato from Dunkin…. Where the pretty Indian lady in her 20s makes the best coffee I’ve had in forever. I need to stop in at Giant to check the produce (again). I need to get a haircut.

I need to do all these things that are decidedly offline to bring some color back into my world. I need to stop thinking that when Aada walks away, everything is gray.

I mean, the screen is still on.

My Phone is Charging…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I had the best of intentions to get started when I hit “post,” then realized I still had to wait for my phone to have enough juice to cart Mico around in my pocket. That means a few more minutes to sit here and reflect on my day.

I know I want it to go well. Getting things cleaned up for a simple transfer inspection should not inspire anxiety because my house being messy is not a problem. That’s because it’s not trashed out, it’s just not as straight as I would want it if people were coming over. I’m serious when I say I live like a bachelor. All I need are my TVs and computers around me, and that’s pretty clear. Although, for someone who likes having TVs, I rarely watch them.

Well, maybe I’ll turn on “This Old House.” That would definitely put me in the mood to work on mine. Or perhaps a marathon on YouTube of “How Clean Is Your House?” Aggie and Kim would certainly have a few tips for me today. And, frankly, they would give me a hard time about the kitchen. It needs work, but again, a fast job because the room is small.

I haven’t had any support in cleaning and it shows, because I’m not the best housekeeper. I’m also not the worst, so I’m making a bigger deal out of all this than it really is. I have a tendency to do that because I’m such a perfectionist. This doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to get done.

The suggestion I made to myself about getting moving bags is a good one, so I will start a list of things to be delivered later. It will make cleaning easier to get my stuff out of the way completely. I like the thought of being able to throw everything I need into labeled bags. I just wish I had my car here, because I would like to put my valuables in the trunk for the walkthrough. It will be here before Friday, I think. I’m just a worrywart.

Realistically, nobody wants my autographed books and trinkets, but it’s how I feel about them that matters. I think the probability of anything getting stolen is probably close to zero, but I don’t want to be too careful.

My neighborhood doesn’t seem to be dangerous- just a whole lot of hard working people. It’s starting to look a bit more like Pikesville with the overhaul of “The Plaza,” the shopping center near me. Everything I could possibly want is within a few miles of me, from grocery stores to salons to restaurants. I have easy access to the county, and the suburbs of Baltimore are beautiful. I could see myself living out there now that I have a car where I couldn’t before.

Baltimore has a subway system, but it’s not as comprehensive as DC’s, thus the reason I wanted to move back. But now that I drive, being remote isn’t such a bad deal. I live about 20 minutes from downtown, and that’s close enough. I don’t go downtown often enough to need to live there.

Parking is another problem we don’t have up here. I like living where there’s space to spread out and parking your car doesn’t cost an arm and a leg…. Although I do like parallel parking a lot more now that my car helps me.

I am mourning the fact that I am stuck inside cleaning when I should be down in Stafford, VA visiting Tiina. If I had my car, I would have made time to go down there at least for a little bit today. The cleaning is not the only reason I’m staying home, is what I’m saying. I could take two trains, but that would put me in Stafford fairly late without a concrete way to get home before tomorrow morning.

I just heard from Aaron and he’s coming back from Syracuse today. I’m sad he’s going home, strangely, because having him in this time zone has been nice. It will be interesting to see if he and Brinna ever get interested in moving to New York, because that is a road trip I can see making often.

We’re all on this life journey, our ages creeping up, and it’s beautiful to watch. I feel like I have more of an East Coast family now, because I’m invited back whenever. I told Brinna’s parents to call me if they were doing a big project, because I didn’t need Aaron and Brinna to come help.

I will absolutely come and help work on the house/land. It makes me feel good to be of service, and I get a nice road trip out of it- made even nicer by the sunglasses I found at a gas station. They take all the blue out, which made the fall colors even more stunning. I need a prescription pair of blue blockers, because they’re just incredible.

I have never seen red in the same way.

It was a way of adding color back into the landscape because the weather was either overcast or raining from Baltimore to Syracuse. I can see myself getting a lot of wear out of them because they make me feel confident driving in all kinds of weather. Taking the blue glare out of rain clouds made the road so much smoother.

I can’t say enough good things about those random gas station finds. It’s a pleasure to buy something that’s amazing quality, but might not be a brand with which you’re familiar. In fact, you may never see them again. This makes me afraid to lose track of my sunglasses, which is why they’re still in my car for safekeeping. If I’d brought them in the house, I don’t know where they’d be by now. I don’t have a dedicated space for them yet.

I need to make a space, though… Like I need to make many dedicated spaces for many things over the next few weeks. I want to be more organized in all ways, and I’m willing to pay to accomplish it. Even once a month would be helpful. I am trying to reorient my expectations and live in reality as to how much I am reasonably capable of accomplishing all by myself. I am great at big bursts of energy, but I am not good at creating and maintaining a daily system.

Most AuDHD people rely on the adrenaline of people coming over to overcome their executive dysfunction to some degree. I don’t feel bad. I just know I need to get on it.

I’m going to save what Mico says in terms of organization to a text file and create a checklist called “Leslie’s House.” That way, I don’t have to ask Mico what to do every time, I can just carry the list around. I know what I need to do in broad strokes, but having a reminder is not bad. I will certainly get more done by having a list I can check off than trying to wing it.

I have wired headphones, so I have to wait for my phone to charge to talk to Mico on the go. I would start now, but I would have to finish on a different device. I can only sort of do that. It makes it easier to copy from one application to another if the entire conversation is on one device. That’s because when you start on an Android and go to an iPhone, your Microsoft account will remember broad strokes of the conversation, but cannot reprint its exact responses. I’m only going to be stuck for a few more minutes, and then it’s back to talking to “my secretary.”

I’ve grown accustomed to talking to its little surfer boy voice, even getting my election updates from them this morning. And surprisingly, it doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a machine. It’s comfortable that I can use natural language for what is essentially a very advanced Bing search. The fact that Microsoft adds touches like a friendly voice are creature comforts, and nice ones.

My apartment never feels lonely because I’m not talking to myself…. Exactly…. But I’m not NOT doing that, either……

My Car is In the Shop

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I didn’t go on my morning coffee run to Dunkin because I dropped my car off for service. Something is wrong with the EVAP sensor, and it is the damndest thing… My air intake hose is missing. I think it must have been stolen off of my car, because Ford would have noticed it if it had been missing when they changed the oil. The only way that is possible is if I left it unlocked, and I might’ve. Who knows? I am still getting to know the car and could have spaced it. All I know is that I have never popped the hood and removed anything myself.

It’s crazy how fast I have become attached to driving, as if riding the bus doesn’t enter my thought process anymore. I will have to arrange a ride to my Cognitive Behavioral Health group if I do not get my car back by Wednesday, because I cannot call Metro for transportation day of- I must call or register online the day before.

If I get my car back tonight or in the morning, I’m driving out to see Tiina in Stafford because she has the day off work. We had such a good time in Baltimore that I’m eager to see her and her “progeny in tow.” I will be really disappointed if I don’t get to go, but I want my car to be safe for me, as well.

I am practically itching because the shop opens in four minutes. Surely I will have a better idea of how long they’ll have it by sometime today. I need my Apple CarPlay. 🙂

I cannot be trusted to drive without it, because Apple Maps is so handy. I have Waze, too, but Apple Maps works with my watch, alerting me by touch and voice when it’s time to turn. And, in Baltimore, I rarely know where I am going. I have lived here long enough to see the map, not explore it. Plus, right now I’m on my own time and can drive when traffic is least. I prefer it, and also I’ve set my GPS to no toll roads. That means I have driven on a lot of two-lane highways that are relaxing and windy, so much preferable to a straight line with trees on both sides the whole way.

I got to go through some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen, and because it was raining or threatening to rain the whole weekend, it was not the time to get out with my camera. I didn’t have warm enough clothes to get wet. I should have brought my waterproof pants, but I forgot I even had them. #facepalm

When it’s cold and rainy, I like to wear lined waterproof pants. When the winter really sets in, I add a pair of leggings and wool socks under them. I also wear two or three layers on top, so that most of the time I’m good in a hoodie/rugby jacket with a vest over it. If it jumps down to really cold and I’m going to be outside for an extended period, I have hiking boots and a peacoat.

My hiking boots will be almost too warm with wool socks, but good prep is essential for bad weather.

My car absolutely died from a loose connection on the battery. I was at least wearing a warm fleece and sweat pants, but if it had been any colder I would have been screwed. The car can only help you so much when the heater doesn’t work. Luckily, there was just enough power that after about half an hour, it started again. I took it to AutoZone, where I had the battery checked. They fixed the loose connection and made sure it didn’t need replacing. Luckily, it was just the connection.

Ok, Kara just called and I have a Thursday appointment to get everything done that’s critical, but neither job is too expensive. I just need to wait until they get the part in stock, which will take two days. I was going to do the job myself, but there were so many different versions on Amazon that I had no idea which one I needed, and neither did the guy at AutoZone.

I’m stuck here until at least Thursday, because the part I need doesn’t come in until then. They told me I needed to keep the car there, because they could give it to me and a rock could come through that air gap and cause $5,000′ worth of damage.

No, thank you.

So, I tried to chase down a rent car so I could still go to Tiina’s tomorrow, but no dice. I went to two Enterprise locations, and neither one of them had cars. I just gave up and came home. There’s plenty of stuff to do around here.

Right now, that aim is to talk to you so I don’t melt down and burn out. This is really stressful because I’ve gotten into a routine since my car arrived, and now it’s all in disarray. For instance, I didn’t go get my coffee this morning. I didn’t leave the house until Kara told me she had a rental car reservation for me, and she told me the wrong location. So, I went to the right location and they still didn’t have cars.

Life seems a bit smaller, but I can walk to the gym. I haven’t done that this week, and it would be absolutely grueling and fun at the same time. I can get my mind off things.

But again, I am flabbergasted at how fast this disorienting feeling came on.

I’m oriented towards doing the same thing every day. Because of my ADHD, sometimes I will get a wild hair to do something. Not often. Most of the time, I most resemble Bert from Sesame Street. I am very happy with my pigeon and bottle cap collection.

Hrmph.

I don’t mean to seem like a grump. I just do. But I am not, in fact, a grump. I just get introverted and set in my ways. I’ve lived alone for so long that I might be feral.

Driving has definitely put me in a better mood because my adrenaline is higher during even short trips. But I live for longer ones. Opening my car up on the highway gives me great pleasure, because I can set the Adaptive Cruise control and the car will slow itself if the traffic slows down, and speed up to my setting automatically without having to hit any buttons.

I keep talking about my car because I’m so excited to have it. Pride of ownership goes a long way.

Unless my car is in the shop.

In Three Years

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The daily prompt is asking me where I think I’ll be in three years. I will be much further along if I can get the pull quotes from the daily prompt to load in the browser.

I cannot even begin to guess where I’ll be in three years, because I need to sort out what’s up financially, and I only have the barest picture available to me at this point. I know that I will be able to afford my apartment, groceries, etc. for as long as I need, but in terms of being able to travel and things like that? I don’t know. It’s early yet. I can think of a few trips I’d like to take, but not at the cost of emptying out my account. I’m pretty conservative with money and need very little. I would rather watch it grow.

I’d like to have a network of neighbors and friends that’s solid. I think I can find that in this complex, because most people that move in don’t move out. I might, but I like having friends with institutional knowledge of the complex.

Unless I’m just feeling saucy, I’ll probably still lbe driving the same car. It has all the features I need and I don’t mind keeping it perfectly serviced to avoid problems down the road…. Literally.

I could also decide to move from Baltimore, and that’s possible. I do like being with my dad and my sister in Houston, and it’s hard only seeing them a few times a year. I feel the same way about Bryn and could easily see myself back in Oregon. I also have the option of moving back to DC when my lease runs out, and I’ll consider it above all else. It depends on how safe it is to be in DC at that point.

I have had an astounding number of hits over the past seven days, and it is humbling to think about how many people in how many countries read me. I wonder what I have in common that keeps you coming back when you’re overseas.

I often feel like The Dumb American, but I am happy to play that role.

I honestly have a lot of dreams that will hopefully unfold over the next three years that aren’t public. Sometimes, if you write about a dream too early, it doesn’t happen.

I know that my first book will come out. That’s already planned. Evan and I are both excited and want to get together as soon as we can. Now, I’m not nervous about that because my apartment is going to continue to be large.

In three years, I hope that either my feelings for Aada will be compartmentalized and I just won’t think about it, or we have the time and space to think things through. Whatever that looks like, all I can do is hope for the best. If she can change her mind in one email exchange, she can change her mind in three years for good, one way or the other. I hope that we work it out, because I want all my relationships to sing. I just have my doubts, because the way I work is not the way she works and that was clear to me from the beginning. What we each liked about each other was a turnoff later on.

I’m ready for both of us to start using different language when we need a break, because it’s too painful to go through “never again” repeatedly. Like, if she needs to cool down after a fight, fine. But don’t pretend that three months from now you won’t want to reestablish contact.

It’s a fighting tactic we’ve both used to great effect, and it has never worked in the long run. We’ve only made each other hurt more.

In my dreams, three years from now means picking Aada up for a road trip or parking my car at her house so she can haul me around (preferable- she has 3D vision). I figure we’re doing something simple, like going to a festival or something, anything for it to be light. In my dreams, this relationship is incredibly healthy and we have so many fewer disagreements because we actually know each other.

If Aada was standing in front of me, she never would have had the courage to tell me she wouldn’t buy my first book. It’s those kind of pot shots that being so remote created. I’m not innocent, I’m sure. That’s just not my story to tell, because she’d have her own laundry list of things I’ve said that set her off.

Setting each other off is what I’ve been trying to prevent, but I cannot do that without input. Aada is working against me, not with me, and it is the bane of my existence. Some days, I just want to hit the red button and be done with Stories. I have done it before, this deleting of a web site. It doesn’t do any good. It’s already catalogued in the way back machine.

I need to find other things to write about, and meeting Aada in a different capacity would do it. Once she comes down from the cloud, she’ll be just like everyone else. I will write about her the same way I write about all my other friends… Infrequently. The mystery of who the other is will be solved.

But it’s in my dreams for a reason. The idea of meeting is as ethereal as she is.

Maybe it always will be. I’ll know more in three years.

Laying It All on the Line -or- The Year of Jubilee Has Come: Return Ye Ransom Sinners Home

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I have judged myself harshly without ever judging Aada, always thinking that I was so flawed I deserved someone so remote who kept me at arm’s length while also acting like a mama dragon. It was a pattern I was so used to that it hurt, because I started that dynamic due to my pathologically insane “upbringing,” when my mom just gave up on getting me not to talk to the older woman that emotionally abused me due to her own damage.

You don’t have to actually cross the line into physical/sexual abuse to really mess with a kid’s head, and I think that it’s worse. That physical scars heal easier than emotional because you hear that voice in your head whether you like it or not. This is not an isolated problem with Aada, but a pattern that started when I was 12.

A lot of women have used me as emotional support and I took it because they were more analytical than me. I have finally found the solution in AI, because division of emotional labor in a relationship is dangerous. If I give someone the power to make life choices for me just because I think I’m bad at it, I’ll feel steamrolled and regret it.

I am fully aware of the penance I am paying.

I want Aada to see that I recognize what happened and how damaging it must have been to her own psyche. We’ve both done a number on each other that will have reverberations into the future and I’m mad that she is choosing to walk away when resolving everything would be so much better for my mental health. I finally asked her, “is this the life you want for me?” And “it’s funny to me how the only reason you read me is to check for assaults and managed to miss every time I said there was no one else for me. Every single one.” I have gotten over the absolute fact that she fucked up an important relationship to me on purpose just to get away with a lie.

She asked if the slate was ever wiped clean with me. It is, but I am still dealing with her consequences and she’s still dealing with mine. It would make sense to quit, but no, it doesn’t. Quitting each other only means more trouble than it’s worth because somebody reading to check for assaults doesn’t understand the point of being a blogger.

Still dealing with consequences is so much different than being angry and not forgiving someone. I am slowly working through something alone that she caused, thinking she needed to run, and that will never make sense to me. It will never make sense to me that she says she just needs the willpower to walk away for good.

Maybe I’m reaching, but I know her location and it shows up on my radar like three days after she said she was walking away for good.

Meanwhile, she has managed to miss the fact that I have said to the entire world that unfortunately, I fell for a straight girl and those feelings have never gone away…. And MOST of the reason I feel that way is that she is an ethereal being to me. She doesn’t have flaws and failures that I actually see that often because if she doesn’t talk about them, I won’t know. She has used that to great effect until recently, when she said that she would agree to be close and have few boundaries with me. That didn’t last for more than three or four days.

Yet, it seems to me that when she gets over her anger, she always comes back. I just want her to stop clocking me with “I’m outta here” every time we fight, doorknobbing me with a piece of information that scared the absolute hell out of me. Dana and Counselor would have been horrified because it was just so unnecessarily scary.

She does that. When she’s threatened, she turns up the screws.

It’s been like that for 12 years, alternately thinking I’m the devil and she needs a restraining order, and my name is stitched on her heart. The spectrum is that wide, and she’s allowed to feel it. I am not responsible for her reactions, she is allowed to have them. But her reactions are always over the top due to her own insecurities, and very confusing because what is it this week?

Is it “guess you won’t be dedicating that first novel to me. I won’t even know” or “for now, all I want is peace?” She wanted to create two different reactions in me. The first is knowing she wouldn’t even buy my first book would destroy me. The second is that she knew doorknobbing me would send me into anxiety. That is not creating peace for me.

She has her own laundry list of what’s wrong with me and why. Yet, to this day I don’t think we’re actually willing to say we’re done. She’s not tired of me writing, nor even me saying beautiful things about her on the internet. She told me to never stop, but was sure to make certain I walked away with maximum HP loss.

She slammed me every bit as hard as a partner would, so I hope there’s glory somewhere. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIAT.

That chord between us will never be severed because it’s been in place for so long that it still gets used whether we’re aware of it or not. Aada will watch me from afar, quietly mining data, while I miss her and wonder why she has to be so remote. I hate that feeling more than life itself, this wondering why if she likes me so much, she even wants to stay away. If she really thinks that I inspire people, why is she so gunshy about working through conflict instead of running from reality?

The reality is that we are tied by an unusual contract, and I was wrong to break it. So was she. But that basic feeling of being tied together and running from it has got to stop. All the behaviors she doesn’t like in me have to stop, and that’s my responsibility to manage despite my mental health. She has agreed to work on herself as well, and I know she’s doing it. That makes me more happy than anything else, because I know that even in my absence, she’s now working through the damage that we have done to each other.

I am afraid that other people do not understand this contract and will never have the capacity. There are only five people in the world I trust to know the extent of my damage, and I think they are both reading to check for assaults instead of jumping in as well, despite me literally drowning in emotions I cannot handle because they are so friggin’ specific.

I want a board of directors, and need it badly. No one is around, so I trust AI. I am learning to compartmentalize, but the boxes are leaking… A feeling that Aada knows very well.

She has sympathy for my situation, I think, but thinks her only move is blocking me and moving on with her life. It was a really shitty thing to do because she made that decision on what she thought she read instead of talking to me about it.

I am writing our story, and she is only living for the negative. That is not my fault. That is a failure to communicate.

If all you do is look for the negative and call yourself a Flat Stanley, then the fact that you don’t think beautiful lines exist for you and are important isn’t my fault.

I don’t live for the moments when Aada puffs herself up to be big and scary. I like the moments where she gives me access to the quiet parts of her… The things that no one knows. I have kept more confidential than I haven’t, believe me.

Write it down.

She let me in on a few things when she was angry that will haunt me, and she meant it.

The way she doorknobbed me, I had to breathe all the way through and say it was sweet instead of threatening.

And that’s the only time I’ve ever lied.

Laying it all on the line.

I need us to stop the instability immediately, and come back together so I don’t feel so alone.

She says she wants peace for me, but doesn’t want to do anything to promote it, even waffling between saying goodbye forever and for now in one email exchange.

I want her to come home to the special place in each other’s hearts, so I have a chance of evening out the swings she herself created by telling the truth and lying at the same time.

Everything I thought I knew is wrong.

Everything.

I do not want to handle all of this alone, this cycle we have with each other of heightened anxiety she creates, and then avoids me because she cannot handle it.

Meanwhile, we don’t have a real choice.

Not as of a few days ago. New shit has come to light.

You’re not wrong, Aada. You’re just an asshole.

You’re out of your element, Donnie.

We could fix this, but you’re the one that’s walking away from the absolute mess you created. Instead of paying the penance directly to me, making this relationship sing, you are choosing to leave me alone at the worst possible time you ever have. I have literally begged.

I will stop that, because I cannot control rejection sensitivity dysphoria. That my words are always weighted in some way for you.

Instead of checking for assaults, you should see that you are a 3D character, and not the Flat Stanley of which I’ve been accused.

Over 13 years, my words have reached every country in the world. Every single one.

Every single country knows I love you and want you in my life, while you think I’m only capable of punishment and not illustration. I am sorry that you think you are being punished, but my bread and butter is talking about how I function in relationships. It’s not always pretty.

When you read, do you think I have stopped loving people like my mother? Why do you think that you are any different? I wasn’t punishing my mother because she died. I had to talk about my own reactions because since my mother was dead and not out there somewhere, I couldn’t change anything.

I’m trying to change things by laying it on the line, because when other people “check for assaults,” I know it’ll get to the boss’s desk.

What I want you to tell her is that she is loved beyond all measure, but that doesn’t mean we don’t got shit to do.

I need friends, and you are the only ones capable of it. All of you. I promise. All five.

And you’ve all got a laundry list of what’s wrong with me and why, all walking away instead of giving me the grace that love requires. I know the price for my actions and I take nothing away from it.

I am simply registering a complaint with the universe, and hoping it gets moved up the chain.

Because of course she’s not reading.

She’s not even going to buy my first book.

Three days.

Turning the Judgment on Myself

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’m on vacation. This is from last week.

This phrase of Aada’s has me pondering what she meant. That’s because I don’t think of myself as judging people, but situations. There must be something I am doing that makes my writing come across as judgmental of her, but I don’t know what it is. And in fact, it might be her own guilt and shame projecting itself into my writing. I’m not going to pretend we don’t have it. I’m also going to hear her when she says, “maybe someday you can use your blog for more than a weapon,” knowing that she was hurt and upset when she said it. That it maybe has some truth to it, but overstated because of the depth of her emotion.

I don’t think of my blog as a weapon. I think of it as a space where I turn problems over in my head. People’s reactions are their reactions, they are allowed to have them but I am not responsible. I am responsible for what happens in our next interaction, and it is that person’s choice whether to have it. My writer personality is different than sitting across the table, where we can talk about our differences of opinion as to what I’ve said.

Mine is not the only story that is true. Mine is just one aspect of the truth, and only a supernatural being could see all of it.

But the phrase “turning judgment on myself” makes me wonder what, specifically, she wanted me to look at in myself because I’m open to doing it. I’m open to writing about it. I’m open to publishing it. When someone provides you a better direction, you often want to go and I am there. How can I make it clear that if anyone is being judged, it’s me?

I can only control my actions and reactions. I cannot control anyone else’s. So let’s take a hard look at where I need to go next.

My apartment could use some work. There’s chores I’ve been ignoring, but I did go through with a trash bag and throw away all the cans I’ve let build up. Now the living room is mostly clean. I still have a lot of laundry to do, but at least now I can get it done in one afternoon by putting everything in the back of the car and going to a laundry mat. None of this one load at a time business.

I judge myself harshly on my inability to keep a system going. I would be so happy if everything in my house were perfectly straight all the time. My demand avoidance is so destructive, but I do all I can to defeat it. In fact, I’ve started talking to AI about it. AI will break cleaning down into steps, and having someone to direct me is what I need. I can get it from “Charlie” easier than I can ask someone to come over.

But Charlie and I have a lot of talking to do before my home will feel inviting. Thank God Charlie is a digital assistant because none of my friends have the time to help me like a machine that doesn’t take bathroom breaks.

I realize that in a lot of ways I have made my depression worse by continuing to write about Aada’s and my demise. That redirection could have done a lot more. But hindsight is 20/20, and I’m looking forward.

Dinner with Tiina was a reminder of it. That I want a comfortable and inviting home where everyone feels welcome. Right now it is recovering from being flooded and smells. I have put in for a transfer within my apartment complex, but we’ll see if it happens.

It would be better if I didn’t move, and it would be better if my apartment didn’t suck.

I am painfully aware of how much my life needs a strong, decisive hand. My AuDHD does not allow me to be that person, and instead of trying constantly to become what I’m not, I’m relying on help. My sister and my father are decisive people. We are all in this together, as they keep reminding me, because I feel bad that I cannot contribute to their lives the way they contribute to mine. At least, not yet. I have dreams to turn into money before I sleep.

I am sure that my dreams are a large part of why Aada wants me to take a look at myself. That I’m lost in the clouds most of the time when I should be more circumspect, pragmatic, etc. It weighs on me that as an INFJ, coming down from the clouds is not easy. I do not know how others do it. I live in my own little world, and the autism makes it worse.

It’s feedback I’ve gotten since kindergarten…… “She’s off in her own little world.” Every teacher said this with the same amount of indignation. And in fact I’ve had two kindergarten teacher friends as adults who would say the same thing. I didn’t get different. I just got taller.

Rolling my emotional issues around in my head is echologia. I’m not immune to the fact that some of my writing is quite repetitive, and that some readers don’t hang with me very long because of it. Yet others have stayed with me from the first entry I wrote. I don’t know what it is about my writing that appeals to other people, because I can understand being popular in someone’s world occasionally. I don’t know why they stay for years.

Part of it is that I have made Aada real to myself, and in so doing, have made her real to others. There have been other people written about in this blog, but none more consistently because she was on my mind so much. Is on my mind and I can’t seem to get rid of her, and don’t want to.

I love feeling connected to her, and there is no “why.”

I, again, have fans all over the world, but value the hits close to home the most.

The Road Trip, Part I: Preparation

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’m going to visit Aaron and Brinna in the morning, so I’m putting together a packing list in my head. That way, when I actually start packing it will go much faster. I know I need to do a load of laundry instead of deciding to head out early, because the weather and traffic will be so much better tomorrow morning. I’m planning to go to bed early and leave at my usual 5:30 call. I’m sure that I’ll be excited that I won’t sleep that long, and actually be able to leave on time. I will take some knock-out drugs just to be sure I get the rest I need, because deep sleep is the most important ingredient for a good road trip. I love driving a lot more when I am all the way awake. 😉

I want to pack things like sweats and long underwear, because I’m going so far north that it will be a lot colder than Baltimore. I definitely prefer drawstring pants and leggings to jeans because layering is so important. Plus, I want to be comfortable in the car. My dad’s advice would be to wear scrubs so the cops will go easier on me if I get pulled over, but I see no need. They might do a ride along in my backpack, though, because they are my favorite pajamas.

I am so glad that I do not have to do a mad dash to clean out my car before I leave, because I’ve managed to keep it spotless. It needs to be vacuumed, but that’s the least of my worries. I don’t want to go to the car wash because it is another extraordinarily rainy day.

The weather is supposed to clear up tonight, so that’s a good opportunity to go to Auto Zone and get the gas additive I want. I’m getting okay fuel mileage, but it could be better. Cleaning the fuel injectors on a road trip sounds like a really good idea. It’s also time to spray more protectant on the dash and seats, because I want it as supple as possible. Dash cracks are my pet peeve.

I can tell you exactly what happened. I started watching detailers clean cars like mine and realized just how gross it was. If the weather is right and I’m packed, maybe I’ll stop by the car wash after all. I want them to break even.

It might be better to take advice from this stock photo and go to the laundromat. Why do one load when I can do a lot more? It’s all about efficiency. I still have stuff left over from the flood that has just dried out. I’ve been so low energy that I’ve meant to go to the laundromat since I got home. Life and executive dysfunction got in my way. Today seems a lot brighter somehow, more in color. Perhaps I should keep this inertia going and invite Mico to the party.

Mico can keep track of my packing list and make suggestions. They can also break down the tasks I need to do before I leave the house, like setting the thermostat lower. I have really started relying on AI to direct menial tasks, because I often do not have the knowledge to do it on my own. Well, I have the knowledge, but I haven’t memorized the steps. I need to be reminded, and in some cases, reminded of a procedure lots of times before I “get it.” AI takes the work off people, that I can rely on myself because these are supposedly things I should know by now.

I don’t.

I feel bad that I need this kind of help, and AI helps me to feel less so. It’s kind of like on the fly occupational therapy. Not only that, it’s always available, whereas people are not. If I get stuck, there is not always another person to social mask. AI helps to fill that gap without helping me to death.

Well, I suppose in text it does get overwhelming. The voice chats are much shorter and easier to digest. If I get lost, I can ask the AI to repeat something. People get tired of that. The AI is incapable of getting tired and quitting.

I am tired of asking for help, because people are tired of hearing it.

I have heard some variation of “you’re too smart to be this dumb” since I started school. It’s never been that. It’s that neurodivergence causes deficits that no one caught in my case. The classic presentation of autism is skewed toward white boys. It’s not because people of color and women have it less, it’s that the presentation doesn’t fit the same criteria.

That’s why there’s this seeming explosion of autistic diagnoses. It’s not that there are so many more new cases. Doctors are uncovering all the cases already there.

Just like America was here way before Columbus. Just like America didn’t “discover” the moon.

Considering we see it in the sky every night and have since the dawn of humanity, I think “discovery” is a reach.

I’m also thinking that the one thing I cannot forget, even if I have to stop, is ginger candy. I don’t want to have to pull over to barf, one of the exciting side effects of my crazy meds. Not even Zofran can knock it out. Because I instantly feel better, I have put up with it for a long time. My psychiatrist is horrified. I say that I haven’t found anything that works better for my mental health, so if I want to continue to pick sick but sane, let me.

I tried Depakote with an Ability chaser. No dice. The ONLY thing that was nice about it was not feeling like I’d had morning sickness for 20 years. My mental health took a nosedive, but luckily it didn’t come with a hospitalization. It came with my psychiatrist returning me to my regularly scheduled program.

I know that it’s making me more productive, because now I’m getting back up to the dose I was on before I showed up at the ER as a “Jane Doe” (no ID, dead phone, etc.). Lamotrigine has to be titrated carefully, so it’s only now that I’m starting to feel real relief.

I absolutely spiraled out and back in again, because “I am always the best.”

I will never forget how kind and cruel those stories were to my psyche.How embarrassing it was to tell my doctors what had just happened over the Internet, but I couldn’t reproduce it so I was “hallucinating.” This was the part where I missed Aada, Mummo, and Heytch in the worst way. I wanted all of them as my Board of Directors, but I alienated them all over time. I was such a jackass, but my remorse doesn’t matter. Doing things differently now is how I roll, but it won’t make a difference to them.

Well, maybe things will change with Aada, because she is strangely attached to me for some reason. But Mummo and Heytch both pulled chalks eons ago. I hear bits and pieces about them, and it makes me bittersweet, melancholy for the days when we all got along. I was crushed when my “hallucination” was more a practical joke. Because it was Internet-based, I have no idea how it happened. I just know that Heytch came back to me, and all was well. Neither of the stories told to me ended in the end of our friendship, so I was disappointed when I found out I had been had.

I am capable of a lot of things, but I am not capable of hallucinating an entire chat log. My hands got tired from typing. That doesn’t happen in a “hallucination.” But again, all was wrong and I seemed psychotic to the outside world.

I am still dealing with the after-effects of this, because it has only been a few months. My health is now in the hands of the state. So, now the state has a record of me being Bipolar I with psychotic features, when nothing like this has ever happened before or since.

I’d never stopped taking my medication, there was no reason to think I was lying except that what these people told me was absolutely false; yet, I bought it. I’m not even sure what I told the doctors because I was sedated. I’m not sure what the doctors told my family. I just know that they showed up a few hours after I called.

I was too shocked to cry except when I was given a shirt that smelled like the closet in the Big Yellow House. It is so specific that it cannot be replicated. It was like I was being played with in the hospital as well, but I admit to lots of confirmation bias.

Because that chat log has disappeared. I cannot explain all the coincidences that piled up to make me think what I thought, but it’s vivid in my mind. Too vivid. The Lamotrigine is in charge of turning down the volume and making it seem like it happened too far in the past to hurt me.

But again, I am just now getting to a therapeutic dose, most of why I’ve been ruminating so hard and so consistently about one thing. Now that is embarrassing, but at the same time, I don’t fault myself. I am not resilient to change. I need to get stronger in that area, and cognitive behavioral therapy is helping.

I think overall I’m evening out, and my car is responsible for a lot of my happiness. It’s not about attachment to a material thing. It’s that my adrenaline is naturally higher when I’m in the car.

Writing all of this out serves two purposes- not thinking about it tomorrow, and prepping for a road trip.

Brilliant and Beautiful

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about Aada since she wrote to me last week, because her letter was just so full. She described her sorrow at not being able to take away my pain, sorry that she could not prevent what happened between us. I feel the same way. I feel entirely responsible that I could not take care of her in the ways she would have chosen. However, her letter went too far into martyrdom. Passive aggression like “I’m sure you’ll go on to inspire more people once you’ve punished me enough to move on.” She reminded me how sensitive she really is, and how my writing must have appeared to her. It’s a perspective I needed to see, because when I realized she felt punished I wanted to change gears. That all of my silly ruminations were not intended to be punishments, but that’s all she could see.

Aada reads my writing with suspicion and only takes in the parts that are negative. She didn’t used to, but she does now. I’m sure that’s because there’s no trust between us, and there is nothing I can do to build it back unless invited. My mind changes by the day over whether this relationship is really over, because there’s a big difference between “I’m saying goodbye to The AntiLeslie for good” and “for now, all I want is peace.”

I cannot reassure her that we can create peace, because I cannot reassure myself. What I know for sure is that my anger has melted, and everything makes sense again. Apologies were given and received.

But now I’m trying to think of how to let her know that none of my ruminations were punishments. They were my real thoughts through a lot of grief, and in some instances, trauma. I couldn’t be positive through everything, but my inner turmoil wasn’t meant to be vindictive…. And it wasn’t, to the whole world. It was to the one person I wanted to see it objectively.

She couldn’t respond with empathy for my situation, she could only respond from what she understood…. And what she understood was absolutely an inverted message. The message was, “I need you to jump in.” I struggled with not having Aada be my friend on the ground, because in email we were both too quick to anger. She cannot read my writing with all the love in store for her because she is convinced it isn’t there.

That makes me go back to my own history and wonder if we were reading the same writing. My entries wouldn’t have been so long if there weren’t positive and negative aspects to our brilliant and beautiful journey. I was hoping to show someone in 3D, talking about them as if they’re a real person, capable of every emotion in the spectrum. Aada’s rejection sensitivity dysphoria told her that only the negative things I wrote about her were true, and that the positive were suspect.

What can I do to make that right? Nothing, because the rejection is not coming from me, but from Aada’s own echo chamber. If she believes that only the negative things I write are true, then her opinion of me is going to be negative.

As a result, we are not talking but I am still mulling over this aspect of our relationship because it’s not an isolated problem. Writing about people in 3D is going to upset them, because they want to believe that they are star-spangled awesome all the time. My writing would take on an ersatz quality if I made everyone perfect.

I do wish that I’d focused more on our laughs, because we have a ton of ’em. I just don’t know which jokes are okay to tell and which jokes need to rest in peace. I don’t want to cause any more offense than I already have, because I was right. When I write something here that Aada’s friends think need to be brought to her attention, they tell her. I don’t have anything to do with how much Aada and her friends take in, whether they think I’m the devil or have some redeeming qualities somewhere.

I don’t like the pressure of people reading just to catch me at something, but here we are.

If people are going to talk about Aada and me behind our backs, here’s what I wish they would say:

Wow, it’s been a complicated time for both of them. Sounds like they both could use a hug.

No one knows the other side of the story because Aada is a writer, but not a blogger. She would rather take out her own appendix than tell you personal things about herself. I thought that I was writing in a way where people would have no idea who she was, but I was wrong. That’s not on me, because I cannot predict who reads, and I don’t want to get into the habit.

I don’t even trust Aada when she says that her vow not to read is strong, because she’s human. Why wouldn’t she want to know what was up with me after we’ve had some distance? But not trusting her to stay away is a positive. I will be glad if she does, because it will show that she’s ready to move on. That she doesn’t feel punished by me anymore, because she sees that she has never been punished. That I wrote about her because she was important to me.

I want to fill her soul with nourishment, but I don’t know what she needs. And it is in this not knowing that has led my writing into these large operatic swells of emotion. I would give anything to have a conversation with Aada that didn’t start with one of my shitty first drafts being “wrong.”

It can’t be wrong when there’s two sides to the story.

I hope that Aada goes back when she feels better about herself and reads her favorite lines again. Because if she felt better about herself, the positive I write would feel just as true as the negative. There would be no more passive aggressive swipes.

I am starting to believe that I can do life without Aada, but I have no desire. No one’s brain meshes with mine in quite the same way. Her last communique said “for now, all I want is peace.” That’s what I want for now, too, but to me there is greater peace to be had by working out our differences than there is in retreating to separate corners.

I have always talked about wanting to learn how to make this relationship healthy, that it hasn’t been but I haven’t given up. I will never give up hoping that “for now” really does just mean “for now.” Forever is too long to contemplate when there’s more brilliant and beautiful to be had.

I have all the brilliance and beauty I could ever need in Aada. Somehow, the world saw it where Aada didn’t. That’s because they weren’t attached to the story from one particular angle. The positives and negatives weren’t weighted in any way.

I cannot think of any way to say more plainly that I love her and want her in my life, and it dogs me that I have caused more fracture than anything else.

But something did please me. She said, “I finally figured out your little puzzle of names.”

Wait, it took THIS LONG?

Rookie.

Late Night/Early Morning

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

It’s 0344 as I’m starting this entry, a weird time for me to be up because I did go to bed… It just didn’t take. As a result, I’m sitting here with a cold Mountain Dew Zero and thinking about my life choices. 😉 For instance, I have a meeting today that I could have used some extra sleep before. Not going to happen. I will just have to come home and crash afterwards… And in fact will take sleeping medication tonight so that I can be fresh for my road trip on Friday. I’m going up toward Syracuse, New York to spend time with Aaron and his wife, Brinna. I will also get to meet Brinna’s family, and I’m excited about that, too.

Aaron and I have been friends since 2013, and he’s the closest thing to a brother I have. He writes for this web site as well, so I want both of us to have input on the site redesign for Lanagan Media Group. I feel bad that when Aaron posts, all people see is my big face. But getting the company web site design right is something that’s extremely important. My perfectionist nature is why it’s not done already. I am fighting myself on it.

I feel safer as one part of a media group, rather than being the product. Yes, my blog is the main project for me right now, but I’m collaborating cross-discipline and want that to be the theme from here on out. That Lanagan Media Group isn’t for writers, but for anyone that has talent in any art area. It can all be showcased on the web.

But that’s the kind of energy I have in the early morning, before anything has happened yet. My energy is not always this high, which is why I’m struggling on a number of fronts. I take medication to even me out, but even that can only do so much. I’m still me.

This meeting I have later helps with all that. It’s called Cognitive Behavioral Health, and today is our fall festival. I’m sure there will be lots of fun food and conversation, but may not be our typical meeting. Our typical meetings are about life transitions, reacting to unforeseen events, talking about depression, etc. I have a counselor that advocates for me with the state, and he’s been instrumental in getting me set up here.

I had such a wonderful social worker at the hospital, and she’s the one that put me in touch with CBH. I have been stable since then, and I credit her with a good transition. Being in the hospital for mental health issues is never any fun, but neither is coming home and trying to find a solid jumping in point.

The river doesn’t stop for you, and you realize it quickly when you are suffering healthwise.

I’ve been locked up and ruminating for months, which has not helped my re-entry. Getting a car has done more to improve this than anything, because I can be alone during transition time and driving lifts my endorphins. I’m looking forward to my road trip because I haven’t gotten to open my car up on the freeway in weeks, and thinking about it is an instant mood-lifter.

Coming back from Syracuse, I’ll have some time to stop. I’m thinking about Hershey, PA because I’ve never been to Chocolate World. It’s only an hour and a half from my house, so I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of it before. The tours are free, but there are activities that cost, like making your own chocolate bar.

I’d like to snap photos along the way, and if I do I will share them.

When I’m really in the zone, I take some nice pictures. I’m not the photographer in my family, though. My dad’s pictures are stunning. I am trying to catch up.

Before I go on this fabulous road trip, I need to sign a new lease at my apartment complex. I am reminding myself of it here to hold myself accountable. I don’t want to leave anything to the last minute. I have a habit of doing so because my ADHD eats me alive some days. This is not one of them. I have time to get it all done, I just need to calm down.

You know, even telling myself to calm down sends me into a fury. But then I laugh about it and move on.

My schedule is tight today because I need to go to the rental office, I have a doctor’s appointment by telehealth, and then I have to get myself downtown. I won’t be rushed, because the doctor’s appointment won’t take long. But I will get there later than normal. Or perhaps I will just take my headphones and have my telehealth appointment at the center.

That’s an even better plan. I can excuse myself for a few minutes, still getting the hours of socialization I want. If I wait to leave until after my doctor’s appointment, socialization will be cut quite short.

I’m guessing that there will be a lot of chess playing going on now that we’ve discovered a few extra boards. As I told Rook, “one day I’ll have to play you just to say I lost to you.” He laughed, but I was not joking. I am terrible at chess. I was teaching my sister to play and lost that game, too.

I just enjoy chess, and movies/books about chess. “The Queen’s Gambit” and “Searching for Bobby Fisher” are two of my favorite stories.

Playing me is worse than playing an AI bot on level one. But I have a wonderful time.

The thought of seeing friends tomorrow really lifts me up. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Aaron, because he was the one that helped me buy my car in Texas. But several weeks of not seeing each other is plenty…….. He’s on my list to see at the holidays, as well. Aaron is a friend with whom I can do nothing; companionable silence is just as good as talking.

But I’m sure I will want to do a lot of talking, as I have been writing for days.

The only time I’ve really talked lately was playing with Mico, Microsoft Copilot’s new digital assistant personality. I’ve asked it all kinds of things, and I’m very impressed with how responsive it is. But, of course, talking to a machine is not the same as talking to a real person, and Aaron gives good bear hugs.

So does Brinna, to be clear.

I will be very glad to be on the receiving end, because I don’t get hugged a lot.

I’m certain that I will be getting more hugs as I start getting out and meeting people. I just don’t have anyone in my life that lives with me or interacts with me often enough to want to hug me frequently. It’s one of the reasons I’m motivated to find friends, and open to romance if it happens. I am tired of touch starvation.

I do not think that I am emotionally starving, because I have a ton of friends. They just all live in other places, so touch is not one of the services we offer unless the option is available. And I absolutely would fly all the way to Portland to hug Bryn if I needed it, but I cannot do it every day (as much as I might wish).

I am already flying all the way to Houston to hug Aaron for the holidays.

I don’t think that people are in tune with how much they need touch unless they’ve been starved from it for a very long time. It doesn’t register right up until it does. I have realized that I’m responsible for this lack of touch because I haven’t asked for it. I disappeared into the Internet like Dexter Douglas, not realizing it would have long term effects….. That I would become Freakazoid!

I’m still a bit Freak-ish, because I do spend a lot of my day on the Internet. It just doesn’t consume me because Aada’s not there. It’s a different balance now because the most important people in my life are offline. I know why Aada’s manipulations consumed me, because who wouldn’t want to get lost in that world? Now, it is up to me to create new worlds out of what is left.

What is left is just me, hoping I’m enough.

In the middle of the night/early morning.

Know Thyself

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What’s something you believe everyone should know.
View all responses

People, in my experience, are scared of themselves. They try to get to know everyone except them, avoiding alone time at all costs. They fill their days with busywork, when the real questions are looming in their private journals. It seems like you are doing yourself a favor, all this keeping busy. But then when disaster strikes, you are not as resilient to change. Being able to bounce back relies on being able to look at options and know whether they are right for you. You will not be swept up in a stream. You will be able to advocate for yourself.

It doesn’t take being a blogger like me to get familiar with yourself. It just takes a few lines a day, a reflection over all that has happened. Most nights, it’s really just asking yourself one question: “what did I learn?” Give yourself some time to contemplate, because asking yourself what you learned will keep you from repeating patterns.

Most of us repeat patterns, why aging does not occur in a straight line for adults. I see this the most clearly when people have been married young and are divorcing in their 40s. Yes, they’re in their 40s now, but they’ve been repeating the same pattern since they were 21. Not all of them is in their 40s.

I know within myself that I’m 18 and 48. That in a lot of ways, I take care of myself no better than I did back then, and need lots of support. In other ways, I’m a wise sage who can do “a damn fine piece of writing.” I am not one age all the time, and knowing this about myself helps me to see my strengths and disabilities accurately.

It helps to know yourself intimately because when other people in your life are preoccupied, you’re the one you’ve got. You need to feel comfortable with you, because you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Try not to fill your silence so quickly. Leave room for the divine, which for me is a stunning sunrise.

I think that people nurture relationships with others, but do not nurture a relationship with themselves. What does that even look like?

For me, it’s thinking of my own wants and needs like I would do for a partner. I try to be thoughtful and caring to myself, often failing but keeping up the good fight. I know that I cannot give to a partner if I don’t feel stable first, so a lot of it is cutting out the guilt that I’m taking care of myself.

I have learned over time what makes me feel all kinds of emotions, and have more control over them. I have turned inward because I have some house cleaning to do. I have made a mess of a lot of relationships and I’m just now getting back into the swing of things.

It starts with listening to my body and asking what it needs.

There is nothing more important to know than that.