Before the Sedative Kicks In.

After having really bad anxiety days, I always think about blogging during one. Today is that day.

I started feeling a little shaky yesterday afternoon and thought it was due to lack of food in my stomach; it was around 3 and I hadn’t eaten. Rather, I played Sims 4 for more than 6 hours straight. The urge to jerk my limbs and the subsequent jerking of said limbs kept me from sleeping soundly last night. I feel crazy. I hate the tight, restless feeling in my shoulders, neck, and chest. I took a quetiapine; a whole one. The worse I am, the less likely this will even make me fall asleep, which is what I want because I don’t want to feel like this. I’m beyond stimming or seeking a sensory overload even.

I ate a lunchable; one of my Aspie comfort foods. I made myself eat it because if I do knockout, I’ll be out until the evening. I need a shower today and I wanted to read. I wanted to play video games, and I most certainly would rather go to physical therapy for my shoulder than feel like this.

What It Looks Like: Ticks, Fidgets, and Stimming.

I knew I’d finally get back on track with the WILL series of posts. I’m finally done with school. I am finished with my master’s degree and that feels really weird. And it deserves its own post.

On to ticks, fidgets and stimming. The only reason I didn’t fill in the entire section on the graph, is because I have a good degree of control over my ticks and fidgets. I stim audibly, a lot. It is my own language and the best I can describe it is, is that it is rhyming gibberish. I direct it mostly at my pets, at home. However, there are times when I am in other settings and my mind wanders, I’ll blurt something out that I normally would only say at home. I was recently at my mom’s and I was going to the bathroom. My mind wandered and I said “oh beagle, beagle baby” out loud. It’s one of the many things I say to my two beagles, who were both at home at the time. I make noises when I do certain motions, a lot. Especially at work, I audibly stim weird noises. I wrestle with embarrassment over it.

I follow a lot of neurodiverse people on TikTok. I love the platform because I get to follow all of these different people and share their experiences. I love my people, even though I don’t know them personally. I’ve learned a lot from them all and it has helped me be kinder to myself. Something interesting I’ve learned, when I watch people with Tourette’s syndrome and similar tick disorders, it brings out my very tame, but very real ticks. They go way after a while.

Sometimes I don’t know how to end a post. This is one of those times.

Reality TV?

Is it really reality?

Okay. I love watching the drama. My favorite by far is TOWIE. The Only Way is Essex. Apparently, it is similar to The Hills, where a bunch of spoiled, rich assholes lay around and fight with each other. Honestly, it is fascinating. Everyone is dating everyone, cheating on everyone and having parties. Like, where do these brats come from?

I wish I had their ‘problems’…. It must be so hard to do nothing and have everything.

But what really gets me, is how they all behave socially. Why do they care who is dating who? Why do people even care about being single? It makes no sense to me, which makes sense because I am neurodiverse. Their priorities are just out of this world. Like, why can’t the guys be faithful? What can’t the girls just do their own thing and not obsess over the guys? It is all a bunch of backstabbing, which I also don’t understand. Why do shit that is gonna start worse shit? I could watch this shit all day. It makes my life seem so much more simple.

New Year, Same Crap

My blogging motivation is still zero. I have 4 weeks of my capstone semester left. I’m having surgery on my shoulder in a few days.

I am looking forward to the pain medicine. I fell back in November and even after finding out that I tore an 8mm section of tendon off of the bone, I have yet to have any. It feels as fun as it sounds! I’m a barista and it is my dominant arm. I’m freaking miserable.

I’m also having a difficult time doing any work on my capstone, which is a research proposal on raising the minimum wage in Ohio. I’m really over typing that phrase.

Very Little Patience.

I get being particular. I really understand, as I am one particular Aspie with A LOT of different things. Mostly, these are things that are only on my radar. I can do/correct these things without having to bother someone else. So much so, that I generally just give up and do most things myself.

Being in customer service sucks, even for neuro-typicals. As long as something is edible, I’ll be fine, even if the order is a little wrong because honestly, THERE ARE BIGGER PROBLEMS and I’m grateful that I have the means to eat out and what not. I have very little patience for people that return or complain about consumables.

Did you die?

Were you able to eat/drink it???

Shut up and be grateful.

As a barista at one of the most popular coffee companies in the world, I’ve heard it all. If you forget to tell your barista that you want something iced, versus hot, I get it…. that’s a bummer. But don’t hold everyone else up to have us remake the drink. Just don’t. Don’t be that person. It’s one thing if it doesn’t taste right (sometimes) or if it is a completely different flavor than what you ordered.

Story time…

Earlier this evening, a regular came into the store just to complain face to face, about the foam in her drink…..


We have these new drinks that are topped with a “cold foam”. Basically, someone at corporate was bored and wanted to make some new shit to torture us with. All we do is blend our sweet cream mix to make it foamy and that’s that. The foam wasn’t as foamy as she wanted it to be. FUCK OFF. It’s shit like this that I just cannot tolerate.

Sorry, not sorry. I needed a rant post.

Breathing Again

Joe Biden WON. Kamala Harris WON. The world celebrated with us. London shot off fireworks to mark the occasion and Paris partied with us in the streets. THE WORLD CHEERED….

Donald Trump LOST.

He is an impeached loser. He will forever be labeled as such. As a historian and political scientist, I can finally breath again. As a woman with a disability, that identifies as queer, I can finally breath again.

The hope of change alone is amazingly up-lifting.

But we still have so much work to do to make sure a fascist person NEVER gets into the White House, ever again. We got complacent and jaded. We stopped showing up to the polls and we paid for it. We paid for it with our lives and livelihoods. We need to work just as hard and be just as vigilant from this point forward; holding our elected officials to a standard that truly represents the USA.

And we need to make sure the MAGAtts stay under their rocks and bridges. FOR GOOD.

What It Looks Like: Poor Eye Contact

This one is pretty easy to explain! I have to make myself make eye contact so I don’t blow my cover… However, I tend to end up focusing on a person’s nose and mouth instead. Which I can get away with most of the time, but sometimes new people think I’m looking at something in their teeth.

Whenever I am on a roll, talking, is when I really notice that I don’t even try to look at the person.

What it Looks Like: Abnormal Posture

I filled out this pie chart shortly before my formal evaluation and diagnosis. I have since come to learn that while my posture while sitting isn’t necessarily bad; I always try to sit up, rather than hunched over, but that is about it. Most of the time, I am either abnormally stiff or I am folded up into myself, usually holding onto a decorative pillow if one is near. My days at home are spent cross-legged on my bed, laptop in front of me or actually on my lap. I sleep curled inward.

It might be different for everyone else, but I do these things for security. Make myself small, holding a pillow, etc. I was definitely off the mark when I filled in this area of my chart.


Two weeks away from the election and I have reached perpetual heartburn/indigestion status. My insides are revolting and I am at MAXXXXX stress levels. Not just because of the election. If there was a pie chart, election stress would take up about 50%. I lied. It is 100%.

But so is my school stress. And work stress. And spouse stress. In the pie chart, they all have a different color of representation. It’s just a giant black circle. Each issue is layered on top of the other, taking up 100% of the pie.

The Starbucks store I work in is always on fire. Completely figuratively. But ALWAYS on fire. Never in my life have I worked at a job with so many lazy people. The most important equipment is old and busted. It won’t get fixed or replaced, apparently due to the fact that it affects my manager’s bonuses. The busted equipment makes it almost impossible to do anything correctly… cleaning, making drinks… anything. On-boarding new employees is quarter-assed at best. Half-assing is way too much to ask for here. We are so understaffed. I don’t have the time to dive into the awesome “playbook” set-up that Starbucks has for their stores, but it is wonderful. And when properly followed, even a busted-ass store can do well most of the time.

Even worse, the proper food safety regulations are not regularly communicated, nor are they followed. Two weeks ago, I watched another barista use the sanitizing (HIGH TEMP), industrial dish washer to thaw out frozen whipping creams………………………… WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?! This sort of shit is SERIOUS in the food industry. People can die from that level of food poisoning. As I poured out all of the whipping cream, they were all curdled and smelled terrible. THEY WERE GOING TO MAKE WHIPPED CREAM WITH THESE. Training is not being done here. How do I know for sure?? I was a rehire after four years and I was just thrown on the floor like, “you’ll pick it back up!”. I make drinks wrong all of the time. Most of the time it is forgetting the finishing touch of caramel on the whipped cream or I forget sugar crunch on top… but the new drinks that came out while I was gone? Oh yeah, I make them wrong. *SHRUG*

I have asked repeatedly to be properly retrained. Starbuck’s training is quite amazing and it is there for a reason. Never happened though. I was handed a stack of recipe cards. Well…. I’m dyslexic and yeah…. LOL.

Someone save me. Please.

Just Because?

Because I’m smart, I’m supposed to do something great?

I didn’t stop to ask.

I was told that because I am smart, I am going to do something great.

But what is great? To my mom, it was becoming a scientist (or along those lines) and discovering new and great things that would change the world. It was also growing up and marrying a man and having children.

Me: I like science, I’m good at it, but I don’t want to do it for life. I don’t want to be well-known and scrutinized by the world at large…. what the fuck…. I DON’T WANT THAT AT ALL.

Also Me: NEVER WANTED CHILDREN. Not even on my radar growing up and when I hit my teen years, my mom turned into Maria Theresa of Austria, obsessed with me starting my period… Which didn’t happen because I have dysfunctional ovaries. Literally. I tried to force myself to get pregnant with medical help and the end result was me cutting up myself in super destruction meltdown, post miscarriage.

ALSO, also Me: While I’m bisexual and have been, knowingly, from a young age, I never really wanted to marry anyone. I am 98% more attracted to women than I am men. I have a preference. Get over it.

I’m only 37 and I am just done. I spent my entire life trying to be what others wanted me to be, plus just trying to do what I wanted. I never got what I wanted… and I hate myself for it.