Confessions Of A Burnt Out Disabled Human:

i want to talk about the ~feeling~ of making art, forever. drawing these kinda lines is very soothing to me. what it looks like is not as important as the process. that’s why kids are the best artists because they don’t overthink it and just make. they don’t usually ask for an eraser when they want to draw and they’re not building up a whole image in their head before they even start. they’re in the moment, as honest as possible

can i call you back im doing something weird

Like, I really need people who are against self diagnosis, the majority of whom had the privilege of being diagnosed in childhood or adolescence, to understand how racist, classist, and ableist this viewpoint is.

So many people of color go undiagnosed. Their adhd/autism is chalked up to behavioral problems and no one bothers to look into it further.

So many poor people don’t have the money to be able to afford getting a formal evaluation. That shit is expensive.

So many people get misdiagnosed. Afab adults in particular are more likely to get diagnosed with BPD when they actually have adhd or autism. People with a trauma history have their symptoms chalked up to trauma and all adhd/autism specific symptoms are ignored.

If you were diagnosed as a child or teen you have absolutely no right to dismiss people (especially adults, afab people, and people of color) and act like self diagnosis is harmful. Most people who self-dx do so after extensive research and they know themselves better than you. Self-dx doesn’t take anything away from people with a formal diagnosis; it helps the individual find an understanding community and coping skills that make their lives easier. If you’re bothered by that, that says a lot about your character.

The last act of betrayal was my betrayal to myself.

Like everyone else, I turned my back on the girl in the mirror. Now years later, I cannot recall who I was when I died. I don't remember the day or month or year but I know I swallowed the pain.

I , therefore, was complicit in my murder.

-a.

😂😂 explains my whole life...

My typical visit to an Art Store.

I’m out of canvas boards. I think to myself. 

Then follows a long, elaborate planning process. If I leave work by 6, I can rush to the art store on the way back, and still be home on time. The entire day is spent in a jittery excitement of getting my hands on those damn canvases.

It’s 6:05. I’m at the art store. Soaking in the beauty of my surroundings. I look at the canvases, and if someone observed closely, they would see me drooling. I resist picking up the largest one available, and modestly pick up what I had come for. Eight by tens. Yup, those are the ones I need. How many, you ask? As many as they’ve got in the store.

And then as I casually walk towards the billing counter, I can’t help but notice (because I’m seeking it out) the paint aisle. Didn’t I use up all my white paint!? I don’t recollect, but decide that I have, and pick up a tube. What about texture white? Yup, picked a jar. Oooh would you look at that beautiful turquoise? In the shopping basket.

As I decide that it’s time to leave, I remember that there are only a few blank pages in my travel sketchbook. Walking towards the sketchbook aisle is like opening a can of worms. I know what’s gonna happen, and yet I can’t resist it. Gotta pick up a tiny sketchbook that can fit into all of my purses. So, what do I do? I pick up an A3 watercolour block. Perfect. Oh would you look at that charcoal!? I think to myself, having never used charcoal successfully. I will now. Of course I will.

Three brushes, a painting palette and a set of pastels later, there I am, standing at the billing counter. My eyes glace at a beautiful display of writing pencils. These would be a perfect addition to the seven hundred pencils I already have. Forty five minutes later, I walk out with my bags heavier, my wallet lighter, and I’m smiling. Perfect.

I hate the idea that I have to be good and well-behaved bc I'm disabled. I'm an evil little guy who exists to cause mischief in a redneck town

Some things I do to help manage my depression after a manic episode:

Find a good audiobook to listen to so i don't have to waste energy actually reading

Limit my time on social media

Let myself indulge in video games when I'm off work

Always have frozen foods for any meal in the freezer. I have pancakes and these honey meat and cheese crescent rolls I made for breakfast. I have random staples for other meals like diced cooked chicken, different types of veggies, mini potstickers, egg rolls, a pizza, etc

Stay stocked up with all sorts of soups. Sometimes a hot bowl of nutritious soup will set me right for an hour or so

Stretch in the morning and try to have a sip of water after

Use a water flosser and mouth wash when I don't want to brush my teeth

I like to make pasta sauce in bulk and freeze it so I always have fresh pasta sauce on hand

I make indulgent dessert teas with way too much sugar and chocolate

Make myself do a single chore a day no matter how awful it is. I sometimes cry the entire time even. Just 1 though dealers choice. I usually make the bed or do a load of laundry if I'm out of underwear

Blast music

If I feel the need to hurt myself, I do an intense workout instead

Sit in a small, dark room with a soft blanket and let myself be angry and sad and cry and kick and yell. I find being able to get the emotions out like this helps me a lot

Go to bed early and sleep in a bit

Play games on my phone instead of doomscrolling

Make myself have a glass of water in between other drinks so I can at least be semi hydrated. I get dehydrated very easy and it makes my mental worse

Give myself sweet treats as rewards. Things I normally wouldn't ever get

Go sit by the water and watch the snails or crabs walk around

Everyone is different so these things may or may not help you and that's ok. I'm just sharing things that help me. Some definitely take a lot of energy to do and I've found that pushing myself a little more every day helps me recover faster as long as it's paired with plenty of sleep and rest otherwise.

Night of the Living Dead (1990) dir. Tom Savini