May 04, 2008

BADD

Hey all!

I've been swamped and dealing with issues, so I didn't even read this set of articles on BADD until today.

So, yeah. In answer to a comment by M.E., I am a Quenchista and I am disabled.

I am also one of the "invisible" disabled - I suffer the unholy of triad of anxiety disorder, which in my case veers around the two peaks of agoraphobia and claustrophobia.

Maybe I didn't feel like posting at first because I thought, "Duh, who doesn't know I'm disabled, I think I must talk about nothing else sometimes." I also am sick of talking about being sick. I try to go without thinking about it, but you know how well that works.

Right now I have finals for my Arabic class. The stress is getting to me pretty badly for some reason; I switched non-crazy medications a while ago and hormones are notoriously destabilising. I sleep all day despite pretty hard attempts to move that back to the evening and I have a hard time being productive. That I was able to spend this morning memorising 8th century poetry was a great victory for me: I got half the poem down, which I haven't been able to even look at for the last four weeks.

So. I feel like I hate my disability. I accept it, mostly, grousing all the way, but I really really hate it. It made me a better person in some ways: I am compassionate because I have suffered. I don't feel like it was worth it. My life is a wreck, I cannot do the things I want to do. Plus I have nightmares and am afraid of the night time.

I feel like half of an adult. I feel unloved and unlovable. I am turning into an asexual old woman thirty years early, and it's because I am afraid of cars and public transit and crowds because some bug destroyed part of my brain.

Not pretty words for BADD. I am in a place full of anger and frustration so often. I apologise like it is a way of life for my failings. I am lava, the anger and fear radiates off of me and burns others and I hate it. My brain is broken and all my workarounds are unreliable. I am out of control - that's what disability means, right? loss of control - and my disability is obsessed with control, triggered by loss of control and no amount of practice or letting go makes it better.

So: I am a Quenchista, I am disabled. And I am angry and afraid.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Anger and fear are real parts of both life and creating change. Thank you for sharing them.


On an unrelated note, I don't think turning into an asexual person would be bad but if there was one thing I would not describe you as, it would be asexual. In my eyes, you're more like one of those bunnies that people refer to when they say "fucking like bunnies" because those bunnies are apparently very horny. Now we just need to find you the right uniquely sexy, ravenously intelligent, woman... I suppose you could find her yourself but it sounds fun for all of us to help.

I want for you to be able to do the things you want to do, and to want to do the things you are able to do, and all of those combinations. Basically, I care about you and I admire that you are willing to share these parts of your life with us. And speaking of things that I admire about you, you know what I admire most about you? That you won't take shit from anyone or make the stupid compromises that some people are willing to make. You have an amazing ability to stand up for yourself.

Anonymous said...

Oops - forgot to sign my comment. I am sure you all know as no one else posts rambling comments that are only tangentially related to content. Just in case,

WTTO

emily0 said...

Thanks for the support, WTTO.

And yeah. All these girls moved into my apartment building, and I am okay, maybe not asexual. Girls smell good. More like "enforced chastity" was what I was aiming at.