Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally

[somerandomguy]

Yeah, magical thinking like "I need to be optimistic or I'll have bad luck" could certainly be OCD.

Do you believe in luck?

 

[Juso]

I can only repeat what everyone's been saying - I think you're minimizing the results of the abuse that happened to you and that you're feeling survivors guilt. Its a normal reaction to something very abnormal and I am so sorry that you have to deal with it.

Regarding the epilepsy: During my Neuropsychology Master, I've read about non-epileptic dissociative seizures, who often come with the same symptoms that epileptic seizures come with. They are common after/during an experience of trauma but they do not have the same neurological basis than epileptic seizures. Maybe it would be helpful to go to the doctor and get an EEG recording of your brain? That would help to get a differential diagnosis. Because 1 in 5 people diagnosed with epilepsy are found to have those kinds of non-epileptic dissociative seizures when a specialist assesses them.
On the other hand, some people do develop epilepsy after a TBI. So I really understand your concerns. However, even if you had epilepsy - there are treatments available, and every year research makes progress in finding even better treatments for epilepsy by trying to understand it better. So there is hope❤

 

[ninja]

Just a thought; feel free to ignore if not helpful or relevant. :)

I also felt I needed to balance out my mom. Not with respect to pessimism, but her emotional intensity and impulsivity. She would want to move from feeling emotion to action pretty quickly and didn't always seem to fully consider the outcomes. If I was upset with my dad or a coach, for example, she might take her frustration out on them in a way that was not helpful and then they'd get upset with me. It made things complicated.

What I'm trying to get to with all of that is:
- I wonder how your optimism impacted or impacts your mom? Did it increase the likelihood of getting any of your needs met? If so, maybe that is part of the reason you associate optimism / balancing her pessimism with good luck?
- Or was it a way for you to not be like your mom? ..who may or may not have seemed to have good luck in your eyes (or little-you's eyes)?

 

[littleoc]

Yeah, magical thinking like "I need to be optimistic or I'll have bad luck" could certainly be OCD.

Do you believe in luck?

Yes, but actually no :p

I understand logically that luck is not something one can rely on, and is not a real concept.

However, I feel incredibly lucky all the time and feel the need to wear things that increase that luck. This is totally irrational and I'm aware that that's true. But I still carry tiny toy sharks or rocks shaped like eggs. They actually seem to help, though, so I find that in particular to be a harmless thing, maybe even a coping strategy. It obviously gets out of hand if I'm viewing people's moods as lucky or unlucky, though. Then I feel this completely silly fear, which I usually do well just avoiding thinking about, that all the intrusive thoughts in my head saying I'm evil, or all the bad accidents I'm afraid will happen to other people or to me, will suddenly be more likely. This gets the worst when moving furniture. Moving furniture makes me anxious, which leaves me convinced that I'm messing up my luck, which makes me more anxious, which makes it more likely that I'll have an OCD attack, as I call them.

I've managed to do really well getting rid of these compulsions until the pandemic hit. So I guess I'll be better again after the pandemic.

It embarrassed me (spelling...?) that the smell of what was probably dust triggered it, though, when my friend helped me move a refrigerator. I became convinced that the smell was bad and that there would be a housefire. I went to my normal way of coping with this, which is to search the Internet for any possible confirmation that a weird smell means something. (For example, when the microwave exploded, it helped me to use Google to find out exactly what the smell meant, so that I could properly support that it had been the microwave that exploded, and not the wiring in the walls burning up somehow.) Unfortunately for me I found an article that explained that if there's a weird smell coming from the back of your refrigerator, there may be a gas leak and you need to call the fire department. I ended up making my mom walk around the kitchen to tell me that she didn't smell anything and surely the animals would pass out or something (not helpful, but true) if there was.

Meanwhile my friend went downstairs. I did thank him for not enabling the OCD though, but I felt ashamed that he was tired of my anxiety.

I've been trying to properly take my anxiety medications in the morning since that incident, though.

Sorry for the long-winded reply, I apparently needed to get that out.

Regarding the epilepsy: During my Neuropsychology Master, I've read about non-epileptic dissociative seizures, who often come with the same symptoms that epileptic seizures come with.

I knew someone with this condition. She was considering getting a service dog. Sometimes just doing breathing exercises (we were in a hospital support group for PTSD) triggered them in her. So if I do have it, I suppose it's mild? Is it "curable" with therapy?

Thanks ❤

- I wonder how your optimism impacted or impacts your mom? Did it increase the likelihood of getting any of your needs met? If so, maybe that is part of the reason you associate optimism / balancing her pessimism with good luck?

- Or was it a way for you to not be like your mom? ..who may or may not have seemed to have good luck in your eyes (or little-you's eyes)?

If I ignore the OCD for a minute, and maybe look at potential causes/thought patterns going into it. For the most part, my optimistic outlook on things gets me accused of being naive by my mom. Which I suppose is her feeling defensive, because any other time she will proudly call me her scientist. I only become stupid if I mention a belief in a higher power (even if I agree with everything she says about one; she's agnostic but somehow aggressive about it (raised Catholic, so probably just angry)) or if I mention positive things. This influences me enough that if I talk about something negative in the world, like cookies tracking our website history, she'll start shutting me down immediately if I try to say that her weird comments are wrong. By which I mean comments like, "This world is terrible," "All people suck," "This world just gets worse and worse." It's made me a bit afraid to start meaningful conversations with her because we seem to both end up defensive.

So, on one hand, I'm sure I'm trying to not end up like this. I can tell she hasn't been very lucky in life, and rarely takes any control, and the luck part of this is both rational and irrational. There is no "luck" involved, exactly, but if she were more positive, and didn't sabotage everything good like that, she'd probably have more agency and have been my childhood hero.

(I hate the phrase "childhood hero" in this context. It reminds me of people in my sorority saying they loved their moms so much, except one lady, but that they respected their sacrifices and did amazingly even if they themselves weren't raised well... and I feel my mom did make sacrifices but they were ones that should have been avoidable, and my entire family was responsible for it. A lot of guilt behind that phrase.)

But, on that note, is the other question, and I think I did use optimism to get something I needed out of my childhood. My mom had learned helplessness for literally everything and wouldn't budge on anything, ever, even if it resulted in harm, because the alternative would be immediately loosing us (my siblings and I) to the state, getting us killed, or something else. She would take hard stances against my father, but not in ways that helped. Usually in ways that made him explode (not to say anyone "made him" do anything) and become more violent, sometimes for several days straight. Like the night he tried to get my mom killed. That lasted for days until my sister called the cops after none of us got sleep from all the sounds.

Meanwhile I was optimistic but extremely careful. My dad and I shared a lot of interests and would hang out, but I also felt I was secretly more powerful than him, just because I was his favorite child. Still am -- I'm the only one he's still following around on Facebook (he continues to like everything but not comment anymore because I told him to shut up over text). He's a bit afraid of me now because unlike my siblings and my mom I was optimistic enough and lucky enough to get an upper hand. I mean, not perfectly, because he didn't end up in prison like I had thought he would. He always avoids prison somehow.

I think I rambled a bit but I suppose that's fine. The point is that I think a whole lot of life has gone into my weird beliefs. I do feel the need to stay very optimistic or else nothing will get done, everything will get dark and depressing around me and make my own depression worse (my mom tends to snap at me more and withdraw more if I even wake up with my brain fogged up from TBI or dissociation or whatever), and then I'll be less lucky for an entire day. Which makes it hard for me to convince myself to go out and change my mood. I'm more likely to get hit by a car today, I'll think, or some other completely unverifiable claim.

It's weird.

Thanks for the term "survivor's guilt," by the way. It was helpful to have a term.

 

[littleoc]

Though nothing traumatic happened to me while I was in Iceland (at least nothing that I didn't cope just fine with after witnessing), thinking of Iceland still makes me so uncomfortable

Here's what I think is an example of OCD. I wrote this and then immediately worried I was being evil and I needed to fix my behavior somehow to prevent ... something? Maybe that's "just" anxiety, though, because I don't think I had any compulsive thoughts (but I am not sure).

(if bellbird is here she should not read the rest of this post, it is triggering)

I feel that what I saw was disturbing enough. I spent weeks while in Iceland and when I got back home from Iceland researching the man who died. I discovered he was an immigrant from an Asian country who was trying to start a new life in Iceland. He hadn't been careful on the edge of the biggest waterfall in Iceland. He was standing on a cliff trying to get a good picture when he slipped on the rocks and fell fifty feet down, into the falling water, and it was very clearly an instant death. I really feel that this is why it didn't mess me up as much? I'm still sad about it, but I worry that this not giving me flashbacks of any kind is somehow terrible. But it isn't. I coped with it and managed to move on, even in the face of a very, very stressful situation (being in Iceland with people who were not supportive). Yet I'm worried because I feel I should feel .. worse? About this? So I should do something?

Odd feeling. I suppose a normal feeling, though. I even feel weird calling it normal. I really can't figure out my feelings on this. Okay, then.

 

[littleoc]

Two years ago I kept having problems where I'd feel like I was doing too much in a day if I responded too much on these forums. Then I adjusted and did better. Now I'm continuously getting that feeling again. Focused and then headache + spacey. Could be because it's so late, though, and I just put effort into responding to eight posts, thoughtfully.

 

[Juso]

I knew someone with this condition. She was considering getting a service dog. Sometimes just doing breathing exercises (we were in a hospital support group for PTSD) triggered them in her. So if I do have it, I suppose it's mild? Is it "curable" with therapy?

Apparently, the treatment consists of psychotherapy (for example CBT, which appears to be quite effective) and psychoactive drugs. Maybe this article will help you to get a better understanding of the symptoms of and possible treatments for epilepsy?
Dissociative Seizures: a Challenge for Neurologists and Psychotherapists

Two years ago I kept having problems where I'd feel like I was doing too much in a day if I responded too much on these forums. Then I adjusted and did better. Now I'm continuously getting that feeling again. Focused and then headache + spacey. Could be because it's so late, though, and I just put effort into responding to eight posts, thoughtfully.

Maybe set a time limit for each day? I so get this, if I spend too much time on here, I get depressed and dissociated.

 

[Freida]

I only become stupid if I mention a belief in a higher power (even if I agree with everything she says about one; she's agnostic but somehow aggressive about it (raised Catholic, so probably just angry)) or if I mention positive things.

This is so distrubingly sad. it just blows me away that your mom (or anyone's) response to someone else believing in good things is negative. It explains so much about why you still struggle today - because how can you be hopeful if you grew up being told it was somehow bad? That you can still be optomistic is amazing -- and it really shows who you are as your own person, rather than your moms punching bag.

Maybe set a time limit for each day? I so get this, if I spend too much time on here, I get depressed and dissociated.

Ya - I have to limit my time here because I sometimes use it as a way to dissociate and not deal with whatever blahblah is going on in my head. Kind of like I'm doing right now! :laugh:

 

[littleoc]

Maybe this article will help you to get a better understanding of the symptoms of and possible treatments for epilepsy?

Thank you so much! This was very helpful

I will be making an appointment to go see a neurologist sometime next week. They’re going to call me to set up the appointment. I done the tests before, so the main worry is how to get in a hospital safely right now, more than it is anything else. But I suppose that’s fine.

Maybe set a time limit for each day? I so get this, if I spend too much time on here, I get depressed and dissociated.

Ya - I have to limit my time here because I sometimes use it as a way to dissociate and not deal with whatever blahblah is going on in my head. Kind of like I'm doing right now! :laugh:

I do! I agree, spending too much time here can be damaging. I’m just frustrated that I keep being able to do a lot one minute, and the next, not so much.

This is so distrubingly sad. it just blows me away that your mom (or anyone's) response to someone else believing in good things is negative. It explains so much about why you still struggle today - because how can you be hopeful if you grew up being told it was somehow bad? That you can still be optomistic is amazing -- and it really shows who you are as your own person, rather than your moms punching bag.

I genuinely don’t understand your response, and have been trying to get it for a while now. Sometimes people violently reject optimism. It didn’t occur to me that that was a mean way to treat a child.

She believes she’s doing her best.

Sucks.

 

[littleoc]

Around this time of year I really miss Sponge the cat. I’m not sure why THIS time of year. I can’t quite remember when he died.

I like that my family is calling him a he now. He was a female cat but he clearly believed he was male. He was a really good mom, though.

I have pictures of him on a computer that I can’t access anymore, and I want to hurry up and get all the files off of it to have pictures of him again. He played a major role in my upbringing. I had some time to imprint on my mom, before she started going to work all the time and my dad’s started leaving us in that cage all day. In the same room. Two rooms a day, at most. Bedroom and “play room.” Which was very claustrophobic. Full of junk we weren’t allowed to touch. Food bowl, no water. Usually pretzels.

My dad tried to keep the cats out most of the time but they’d jump the gate. Romeo, a white cat with no tail, used to lick my forehead when I cried. Fuzzy was like my service dog — so full of kisses she’d never stop until you started go complain.

I was looking at traits of spray cat behavior versus feral cat behavior. Most feral humans are... romantic, in interpretation, but it is true that they have lower IQs from lack of raising, but also often from abuse. Severe abuse. Assuming they survive it.

I was joking with a friend while we tried to decide if one of my current cats was stray or feral. I joked that because I got to be reared by my human mom as an infant, and had my dad be the first to hold me in the hospital, I wasn’t feral. I was stray.

I think I have stressed myself out with my own joke. I can’t stop thinking about it. It felt too right to say, for it to just be a joke, if that makes sense.

I spent twelve months to four years of age having minimal contact with my older sister, who was placed in the garage to live there instead of with the rest of us. I do remember hanging out with her in her room at night though. The room I’m typing in now, actually — it’s now a laundry room and a transition room for my two newest cats.

I’m worried I simplify what happened too much on on hand. I was free at night. I was so pent up from being caged that I would become nocturnal and sneak around poking holes in bananas, or getting my fingers stuck in cat carriers. My mom still laughs about this with love, and i would change the subject quickly if she didn’t.

I miss Sponge a lot right now. He was a great cat and we were very close. Wiggles, too, though he was feral. Definitely feral. We really understood each other.

I struggle to understand how this has effected me. I feel my social skills have gotten better and people barely notice sometimes. But then in another moment I’m worried I’m socializing like an animal. I did in high school. I sought out that colony feel, as my therapist called it once.

And the fact that my mom doesn’t feel like my mom. It breaks my heart a bit, because it’s the one thing she’s proud of, being a mom. And she’s not even that proud, she’s constantly worried she wasn’t good enough.

I don’t want to talk about it’s with her, ever, though. I’m so sick of having to deal with it. I want to just miss Sponge and be done with it.

I can’t remember what time of year it was when Sponge died. He lived a lot longer than expected. Considering his cancer. My father wouldn’t take him to a vet. Just insisted he was done for. He hid downstairs, afraid of the other cats. He was feral too. Just forced inside.

So I brought him to my room, put him on a towel. Had him on my bed. He cuddled every night. Never left that room. Smelled worse and worse every day. My dad didn’t seem to care.

Then he said he knew he was about to die. He called at me and begged to be near me. I was confused and didn’t catch his meaning. He just looked anxious. And then he was gone. He yelled in fright and then relaxed. It was.. eerie. I guess. I’ve seen humans do the same thing. It’s natural and normal. Just... hurt to see that, at a young age. Hurt to see what felt like my legal guardian just leave like that, but unwillingly. He kept trying to get up and be closer the whole time. Grabbed on to me even.

I stayed with him for an hour, just letting him cling on me. He was my best friend at the time. I was dead set on being a veterinarian after that. I’ve saved a lot of animals that weren’t ready to go yet, since. Not all of them. If I needed a parent’s help, that cat, or wild animal or whatever, wasn’t going to make it.

My mom really hated Sponge, so I try not to talk about him. Sort of feels the same way as a biological mom hating on a real parent, and I don’t mean to be offensive with that. It’s just how I feel.

I grew up fine considering I was raised mostly by him and a bunch of other cats who also died. I’m glad my dad was obsessed with cats, or to be honest I doubt I would have come out normal. My little bro and I constantly have cats. Same with my mom actually.

Sponge was also more consistent as a parental figure. I don’t believe he saw himself as a parent but he did see himself as a guardian, for sure. He kept me out of cabinets with chemicals. He also kept me away from other cats he didn’t get along with. Which I always protested. I liked all the cats. It was only my ex or my mom who would hate cats in front of me.

The cats I have now are awesome, and they look to me as their guardian. I feel like Sponge would have liked them a lot. Especially Xavie. Maybe he does like them. My pagan neighbor says there are a lot of cat spirits around here and I wouldn’t doubt it. At the very least it ought to feel that way to a human. Humans are superstitious animals sometimes.

I feel blessed that Sponge, Fuzzy, Pewter, Romeo, Wiggles, Lippincott, Ditto, Zeus, and other cats were in my life. I owe a lot to them. ?

 

[littleoc]

By the way, I’ve started preferring they/them pronouns. I’m gaining confidence enough to say so now.

Not to mom yet. I started talking about just the concept recently and she acted like it was the weirdest, dumbest “kids these days” thing. Me telling her about people in their 80s with similar identities didn’t help. I’ll try again some other time.

Sister implied she wouldn’t love me as much if I weren’t her sister.

Little bro took it fine.

I’ve finally agreed with my therapist that it’s not “just a fad” if ive been trying to be understood this way since before the vocabulary was invented. That if I kept trying to change my name and present as male, it’s not just something I made up in adulthood. Long story short. My therapist pointed me towards some science-y resources that helped me understand better. I’ve felt better that way.

Unfortunately that might make me a target of ridicule but it’s probably not much different from the person yelling at me for having a service dog. People are going to discriminate for anything.

 

[littleoc]

It is really, really hard to fix a sleep schedule once you’ve messed it up. Maybe relying on a job for that was a bad idea.

I’m getting triple the amount of pay in unemployment though