Emotions are a Choice

Our car died on Monday. And by died, I mean dead, kicked the bucket, pushing up daisies. It is an ex-car. We didn't know it at the time--all we knew is that the engine had stopped and there was oil leaking, and Richard had to leave it on the side of the road and walk a mile or two home with my daughter--both of them sick. Sucky situation, all around.

Today we found out from the mechanic that it will cost $4,000 to fix the engine. This is an old car; for $4,000 we could get a better, newer car--if we had the money. Naturally, we don't, nor money, really, for any sort of car at all.Where we live there are no buses for several miles, and nothing within walking distance. Without a car, we're screwed. Well, maybe, but more on that in a moment.

I could have panicked on hearing this. There are things I like to do outside the house, and Richard needs to be able to go job-hunting, and so on. Being house-bound is just not a good thing, nor a desirable thing. I could have been angry at myself or Richard for not taking better care of the car. I could have gotten depressed over the situation, and at the universe for "doing this to me" when my compter had so recently broken down too.

I didn't do any of those things. And what makes this something worth pointing out is that I chose not to. I felt despair and anger and frustration creeping up and went "screw that, none of those emotions are useful. Go away, I have a problem to solve." The energy didn't go away--I just channeled it into solving the problem.

My solution is thus: bicycles. Two bikes, plus helmets, should cost us around $300 or so--maybe more, maybe less. They require no gas and far less maintenance than a car, and it'll get me moving physically, which I desperately need. It's not a permanent solution; when we have regular income, we'll probably get a car. But right now, bikes let us get to the bus stops, and give us a degree of freedom.

Yay solution! I felt better and the nasty energy dissipated, though not entirely. I've been having a general, unfocused anxiety and depression for a while now. Some crappy stuff has gone on lately, but often everything will be fine in the immediate, but I feel dread or sorrow for no reason. In the past I'd have found a reason for this, the reason I'm depressed or angry or whatever, but these days I go... I get depressed. It happens, it's brain chemistry. I need medication and a more active lifestyle, and definitely a better way to de-stress my neural system so I don't carry the weight of getting overwhelmed so much.

Which leads me, finally, to the point of writing this: I have come to view emotions as being, sometimes and to some degree, a thing that can be chosen. Sometimes one is so angry or happy or sad that it can't be denied--and often, in those moments, those are good and healthy responses. I don't say "I chose not to be angry" as if anger is always bad. Anger can give one fire and energy to fix a problem, to right a wrong. Sadness is warranted over loss and hardship. Etcetera.

But so much I hear people say they just feel this way and can't help it, or people want their emotions "validated" or some such--they want me (or whomever) to tell them it's okay to be angry, or happy, or sad. Or rather, that I (or whomever) approve of and support their emotions. Huh? Why? If your anger is justified, it's justified. If it's not, it isn't.

Here's the thing: just because a person feels an emotion in a situation, that doesn't mean that emotion is an appropriate and mature response to said situation. Hell, it may not even be an actual response to the situation. When I get depressed, I'm depressed, and I'm not going to be genuinely happy no matter what I do until the dark cloud passes. There are exceptions, but they don't make the cloud pass on their own. Bipolar folks who are in a manic phase might be happy about anything. And even mentally healthy people do this--they ruminate on the nasty driver who cut them off in traffic and then snap at someone later who did nothing to warrant being snapped at.

What I've learned (and there are studies to back me up, which I'd link if I remembered where I found them) is that deciding "I am going to feel this way" and then acting as though I feel that way does work, to a degree. Like I said, if I'm depressed happiness is elusive, but the more I act happy and productive, the more I get done, and the more I start to feel happy and productive. Then I start doing things that fight depression--getting my diet and meds in order, getting exercise, getting my living space clean, etc.--and then acting happier and productive is easier, so I get happier and more productive and... etc. I've just learned that I have to fake it for a while. I have to look at that unfocused "blah life sucks" and go "no, it doesn't, and I'm going to act otherwise, thanks much."

The unfocused blah isn't going to go away at first. I am going to have moments of feeling awful, moments of feeling tired and worn and overwhelmed. I allow myself to crawl into a blanket and rest, but I treat it like I'm sick, not like the world is awful and life will never get better. That way lies emotional states I swore I would never re-visit. And sometimes, anger or anxious energy can be useful when I can harness them into energy for making things better.

I'm hardly perfect at this, and it's only been very recently that I've really started to believe that I can choose my emotional states. To diverge in a geeky way for a moment: I think going back to Star Trek (I'm playing ST Online and Richard and I are watching TNG on Netflix) has reminded me of how much I've long admired Vulcans. I don't think I'd want to suppress all emotion--I like passion, and anger can be useful, and so on. But trying to step back from emotion, think logically--to recognize that our passions and whims and brain chemistry need not rule us--is a good and useful thing, I think. It is also what I think a lot of "choose to spread kindness" homilies are trying to say--that you can choose to be happy instead of angry, and to spread joy instead of sorrow.

I don't know if I'd go so far as to start spouting homilies. Sometimes, a "negative" emotion is the right one to choose. Sometimes, the world sucks and its ass needs some kicking. Sometimes, the world sucks and you just need to cry. All of that's okay. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm glad I figured out that I can think my way up out of depression, and that I hope anyone that knows me that reads this understands if I maybe don't always seem sympathetic to whatever emotional state is passing through their mind right then. There is one sort-of homily I can support here: what matters is not so much your situation, but how you choose to respond to it.

Difficult Admissions

It's been a while. My life has turned inside-out and upside-down, and I'm not sure of what I want to do or be anymore. But the blog title still fits, so I keep it.

I realized today while writing a Facebook post that I need this. I need to sit down, at least once a week, and type these things out. I am going to. And maybe post the link some places and see if anyone else cares to read. Maybe read and comment on other blogs. I don't know... something.

Anyhow, I've been hiding from the world--even the online world--because I'm ashamed, and I shouldn't be. Below is the Facebook post I wrote in which I realized this.

(Begin Facebook post)

So yesterday I forgot how to put my clothing on.

I mean this quite literally. I had taken a shower, and I got out of the shower, and had clothing sitting on the counter in the bathroom. I looked at the clothing, and I could remember that arms and legs went in holes, but I couldn't remember what order things were supposed to happen in. Everything got jumbled up in my head.

This happens a lot, I'm starting to realize. I'll sit around in pajamas all day because I can't remember how to put the clothing on, or I won't eat unless Richard gets me food because I'm not sure where food is or how to cook it. I don't put things away because I'm not sure where they go (and I often lose them if they're away because out of sight is often out of mind for me.)

This seems to happen more often when I'm sick or depressed or stressed, as though my brain just has so much else going on that the basic stuff drops by the wayside. I've learned to cope mostly by going totally overboard the other way. I used to go without eating more than once a day for weeks at a time, but now hunger is a migraine trigger, making it impossible to function without eating. Of course, without anything easy at hand to eat I'll just sit there with the headache, since migraines make it nearly impossible for me to carry out complex tasks. Stupid body.

The big thing that happened yesterday, though, was that I went to Richard and asked for help. I started crying, I was so ashamed. I'm 30 years old... I should be able to take care of myself. But I'm starting to see that in a lot of ways, I can't. Even basic things can be hard, because it just gets all jumbled up, and I spend so much time trying to remember the little things that big stuff like homework or writing (which is even harder to organize) falls away.

I'm not sure what to do about all of this. For the moment I content myself with admitting that I might not ever be "independent." I can't take care of myself very well, and I need to stop feeling ashamed of that. I need to get help--I don't know what yet, but that's something to look into.

I also need to be honest about other things, and that's coming. Slowly. In the meantime, I need to get food and get dressed for today. All of you for whom these are easy tasks, count yourselves lucky. :P

(End of Facebook post)

There will be more forthcoming. I have updates on Morgan and astronomy and my life. In the meantime, I do indeed need to go eat.

Mental vs Physical Age Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eu0aunZrP7o&feature=share

This video is about how the guy making it has always felt maybe 6 years behind his peers, mentally... and when he turned 17 or so and had to go "out in the world" he started acting much older, like someone in their 50's, and people online would think he was older. Now he feels "young" again but still 6 years behind--go watch, it's good.

I identify with this so much. People always think I am very much older or younger than I am... people thought I was older when I was a teenager although I felt younger inside. Now people who meet me think I'm younger (at school people think I am maybe 20-21 when I am almost 30) and online people have always thought I was older--but inside I feel like I stopped at around 15 and had to become very much older and now I'm picking up my development again! So I feel maybe 16 or so inside now... I wonder if I'll always be 14 years behind...

I passed my classes!

I wasn't expecting to write this post in this manner. I was expecting that I would have failed at least one of my classes, and would be speculating on what to do about that and would there be financial aid problems and should I continue school?

Instead, I find that I passed all my classes this quarter. I haven't done that since last summer. I keep peeking back to my transcript to be sure it's true. I shouldn't have passed. I know I shouldn't. I missed tons of quizzes, I did badly on finals, but somehow I managed to prove that I knew and understood the material and passed every single one.

Short summary: I took an art appreciation class that involved looking at art and discussing it, a chemistry lecture course I'd failed before (I passed the lab so I didn't have to re-do that) and calculus I which I'd also failed before.

On the "how the hell" side of things, I never had many doubts about my art class. Give me papers to write and I'll manage to write something interesting and thought-provoking and get accolades even if I forget the material five minutes after I'm done--especially in a 100-level class where the teacher is barely expecting competency. I'm good at writing papers, and I did both my main group one and my own. Chemistry... my the points I should have failed, but I had that teacher for the lab last time I took the course, and I got a 3.3 in the lab course and I should have gotten a 1.8 or so. I'm thinking either my math is wrong and I did better on the second exam than I thought (possible since I never got the test back through my own fault) or she felt generous and passed me.

Math... I should have failed, but it looks like on August 7th the teacher put in "100%" for my quiz scores, and this made be able to get a 2.8 from my exams alone. I never took a single quiz. I suspect he didn't find time to give them and gave everyone 100% and I just wasn't there the day he announced this. Another reason to go to class, Arielle.

Anyway, suddenly I have this foundation of "look I passed!" I know that passing with such horrid attendance and homework was a fluke and will not happen again. I also know that next quarter is the quarter I get into actual physics classes. And maybe... ooo... research. Real research, for honors credit or publication or even for stipend if my MESA advisor managed to pull out the funds. Yes, let's give the Aspie toys to play with and tell her she get school credit and money for it. Heaven. I've been looking forward to this for months.

So now I know I'll get my financial aid check, I know I'll get a crack at that research... and holy crap I'll likely be presenting at the UW undergraduate research symposium in May and that means talking to people and WHAT AM I THINKING THIS IS INSANE!!!

Hence the dilemma that's been looming ever since I put away the lithium bottle and went "I can't medicate away my problems." Can I do this? I want to, badly. I want to be an astronomer so badly it hurts sometimes. I avoid science things because I know I will perseverate and never come out, and if I fail I'll be so terribly disappointed. Richard (my fiance) has promised not to let me completely disappear so, so...

I will do this. I will. But it's hard, and I can't articulate why right now. It's tied up with disappointments and the fallout from my social problems, and I will manage to type coherently on it soon enough. For now... I passed! I PASSED!! Yaaaaay! I need to celebrate somehow. :)

Starting Off, or, What Now?

I intend this blog to be a journal of sorts, a place to write things down so I can sort them out. Of course people can read it, but I'm not expecting many (watch, now I'll be surprised). Anyhow, I'm not trying to write anything interesting or profound to anyone else, just personal things that I don't mind having out in public semi-anonymously.

The anonymous bit is the first thing of real concern here. I am in a state of major flux right now, not really sure which way to go. I've never been anything like "normal." Brilliant, maybe, lots of potential and so on, but it's always been very difficult for me to function in the world. For about a year I've been living with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, but not only does the medication not help the diagnosis came out of my ARNP deciding after 20 minutes that it made sense. She never dug very deeply into, well... anything much, which I'm starting to realize is par for the course for mental health a lot of the time.

My youngest son is also two days away from being evaluated by a neurologist for autism. Every other professional we've talked to think he likely has it, and he certainly fits the criteria. Autism, of course, has a genetic component, and my mother has repeatedly mentioned that she feels I fit the Asperger's criteria since she started doing research into things on her own.

So... I went and took tests online. I know, I know, they might not be accurate, but I fall deeply within the autism spectrum on every one I've taken. I've been discovering that I actually have a hard time reading facial expressions, that I can't tell tone very well unless it's exaggerated, and that many things I have passed off as reasons I might not be autistic fall squarely into "female presentation of Asperger's syndrome." And I am finding that trying to deal with the world as though I am autistic is helping me head off problems and begin to think more and more clearly.

I am of scientific mind. I firmly believe in Occam's razor: when faced with equal evidence for two or more hypothesis, the simplest is most likely to be true. So which is simpler: a diagnosis that needs stretching to fit and can't seemed to be treated properly (bipolar), or something that people who know me well go "oh yes, that's her as a teenager" that offers coping skills that already work? I'll take door number two.

So right now I'm in limbo. I stopped taking my medication, but now I'm worried about going back to the doctor's office and telling them why. ASDs are hard to diagnose in both women and adults and I think I'm pretty good at "faking" (of course maybe I'm wrong there), so I'm afraid of going to a therapist and being told I'm wrong--and worse, getting in "trouble" for not taking my meds. I'm not against medication--my fiance, who does have bipolar disorder, is so much better even on his not-quite-therapuetic dose of lithium. But lithium carbonate is nasty to the body and the side effects have been making life hell, and antidepressants never seem to really work for me.

I have a lot more to say on all of this: why I've been clinging to medication, why bipolar doesn't make sense, why I think I'm an Aspie. I don't want this to be too long, though, and already I've typed a lot without even getting to what bothers me most. Because, you see, I have no issues with autism. I've known many people on the spectrum, terrific people, who interface with the "normal" world with varying levels of success. Being autistic doesn't bug me, except insofar as it causes me trouble from outsiders.

What bugs me is the thought that all the things I thought I could medicate away might be part of who I am. That maybe the world is too much for me, too stressful, that I won't be able to operate in it without falling apart. I think this because it's happened, over and over again. Maybe, just maybe, dealing with the world as an Aspie will let me get where I want to go. I can't shake the feeling that I'm wrong, though, and that ultimately the career I want will be too difficult to get to, not least because of the social skills required to navigate the academic world.

It's hitting home, right now, because I've yet another bad quarter in school, grades are out tomorrow, I'm not sure if I'll keep my financial aid or not and if I do... can I handle this? Can I do it? I'm not sure. And letting go of this would be hard. What I want to do is specific and it's strong, and there's so little way I can think of to be involved in it without a dgeree. I want to work on SETI, you see. I want to communicate with alien life. Or maybe I want to get a degree in planetary astronomy and find evidence of life in the solar system or elsewhere. I haven't quite decided. But I want to see if someone else is out there. I feel so alone so much of the time; I can't stand to think that this one little planet is the only one ni the universe with intelligent life.

Language fascinates me and aliens fascinate me; I want to study both and figure out how to talk to creatures whose minds work differently than ours. And if I am autistic maybe I'm just what's needed, someone whose brain works differently, someone who could have a different take, help to work out what to say if we ever manage to get a signal through. I've got some ideas on where and how to look that I'm not sure we've tried yet. How can I do this if I can't go to school and get a degree? And how can I convince the schools that I need help, that my year of failure is because I've been doing things all wrong, to please please give me a second chance, if I don't go get that elusive official diagnosis?

I'm not sure what to do, right now. One thing I can do is write, so I do so, and throw the line out there, and pray that I manage to make this work... because I don't know what else to do, if things fall through. I thought medication would fix things, and it just seemed to make them worse, and now... now I'm hoping that tomorrow I get good news.

In the meantime, I go to play video games and watch my younger daughter, who refuses to sleep at the right times, and realize that it's partly me--that part of my fascination with the stars comes from a desire to be awake at night when it's quiet and cool, when the rest of the world is asleep and there's less noise. Normal folk go to bed or turn up the lights at night and ignore the sky and the vast emptiness dotted with light. I used to embrace it, even if I often feared it; now I hide behind walls and lights at night too, and wonder why I have to go to school in the daytime to learn to study the night.