Fear of stupid.

Fear of being viewed as stupid.

Acknowledging all these things I can’t do. Well, not consistently. They aren’t “difficult” things. They are more mindless, annoying, and boring things that remind me of cardboard. Flat and uninteresting. Adaptive or independent functioning. Hmmm. I’m not stupid! (I want to yell). I can DO these things just not all together, and not all the time, and not today, and I don’t WANT to do them because they are soooooo boring that I will feel like gauging my eyeballs out if I have to. Well, not that far but you get the idea. And some of it…it’s too hard to keep track of all these little things that I should do. If I have to “think” about it and it not be automatic, then things are hard and difficult.

Routine, established creates music. A flow, a dance in the day. Gently gliding to the next expected thing. But, it is not routine. It is not automatic here. It’s chaos. Internal, and sometimes external. It’s too loud. There is too much movement.

I struggle and say I need help. Not with everything but a “somewhere” to start. I need a bit of a director/leader. Someone to help me start and say hey, let’s map out (brainstorm/mind maps) all the major things going on, or what we have to do and get a good grasp on where we are and what direction to take. I can’t “start” and “organize” enough to get this done from step 1 to step done. I tell my spouse I need this. Not that over there, but this. Please help me. I want to feel I can accomplish something. That I am in control of something. Don’t do all that other stuff, please. Help me feel empowered. But…there is anger and defensiveness. I can’t express what it is that I need, and why and how that is different from just doing things “for” me and giving me “breaks” from our family life, time to myself….

I wish I could print out detailed flash cards of pictures in my mind to show him. That would be so much easier. Flash, flash,flash….then you have enough information to “understand” what I am trying to explain in stupid english words. God, I hated English in school….(yes, English is my first language).

Back to being stupid. It’s my biggest insecurity. I could not express myself, and felt dumb. People thought I was “dumber” (haha) or just shy, or not that smart. I hate that. It’s because I don’t have a need to show off myself and also don’t have the verbal skills to really demonstrate things that I know or understand or see.¬† I have anxiety over being viewed as stupid. As being “low” and “dumb”….I’m tired of people being condescending…

And lately I have to admit that I can’t do certain things. But, I can…in certain times….I struggle to accept defeat.





A day full of crying

I don’t want to “talk” about the difficulties of participating in “outside life” because you wouldn’t understand. What may appear to be just trivial, frivolous, silly, child-like, or over exaggeration to you-it is piercing high in difficulty for me.

I feel stupid that these things are barriers for me. I don’t want to tell anyone about them. It’s embarrassing. I have to admit that although I sometimes feel that I could have been someone, something, or participating in things that I enjoy (research, analysis, policy-creation, etc)-I could not demonstrate my understandings and knowledge very well. I can’t “show” what’s inside. Then, I have these things-these “barriers” that I have to dodge at all times while trying to manage those wants (higher education, purpose, continued focus in things that interest me). Like playing Pacman…. It’s exhausting.

I give up. Often. It’s easier to not “try” to be outside, and something that I am not (but secretly really want to be). I am tired of feeling invalidated, discounted, “stupid.” Why even my Drs act in a way that tells me they think I am “mentally handicapped” (“focus on your breathing when stressed…. all people feel this way….it’s not so bad”) They just don’t “get” it.

I love outdoors. I love nature. I love the sounds of birds, and the smell of the trees and fresh air. But, I hate the slight wind on my face. The irritation of wind in my hair, or on my skin. Or the bright light even on a cloudy day. I can’t move without sunglasses. Then, my fingers and toes are frozen and I can’t concentrate. Wait, that wind is just slightly brushing up against my cheek and a strand of hair falls out of my bun and hits me near my mouth. Raging anger over things needing to stop. Stop, bugging me. Stop, interrupting me. Stop, feeling so entirely disgusting and upsetting, and volatile. It’s either too cold out or too hot. Then, my sock feels funny, and I can’t concentrate while trying to tend to my ¬†little ones (children) . It’s so much work. I just want to absorb into myself.

I hate the guilt I feel. About not wanting to deal with anyone else’s needs. Of just barely able to look after them. Of not being able to be that person I so want to be : energetic, fun, organized, not scattered. Not stressed because I can”think” and also because these sensory things are driving me so up the wall that I break down. I can’t manage well.

Where does one go when they have realized that they just can’t do life. I can’t “do” work, school, motherhood, basic daily things I can’t look after. What does one look forward to when all those little dreams are gone because for my entire lifetime of struggle, I didn’t get anywhere.

I couldn’t become different.