Category: My Thoughts

That’s Rad: Part 2

In my last post, I wrote about the concept of radical acceptance. To summarize, this is a philosophy I try to embrace in my life, which entails offering love, acceptance, forgiveness, grace, and a growth-oriented mindset to other people in your life, as well as yourself. In a partnership, radical acceptance means choosing to love your partner and accept them no matter what. 

In my relationship, the dynamics between me and my partner can be challenging because we both have ADHD, we’re both empaths, and we both have unhealthy stress responses at times. 

ADHD can make emotional regulation quite challenging. We have big feelings, sometimes about things that seem small, and we can be impulsive when it comes to expressing and acting on those emotions. For my partner, it frequently manifests as him being grumpy and irritable, sometimes for no reason that I am even aware of. If he’s hungry, tired, overstimulated, distracted, stressed out, or anxious, then everybody around him will be able to see that he’s not happy. He might snap at people more easily, get irritated at little things, or be sulky and sullen. 

As an empath, I have a big problem with taking responsibility for other people’s feelings. When it comes to the people I love and care for the most, the desire to make everyone happy is often overpowering. Part of that comes from being able to feel others’ feelings, which naturally makes me want to fix it so we can all feel better. I’m also a people-pleaser, and I will put everyone else’s wants and needs ahead of my own because that’s what feels safest to me. If someone is grumpy, you can bet I will be desperately trying to diffuse them, or if all else fails, escape the situation before things get worse. 

As you can imagine, having all of these complex dynamics in play can make things difficult in my marriage. My husband gets grumpy, which makes me feel sad or scared, and I try to fix it. But his stress response is avoidance, and he won’t talk to me about what’s bothering him. This causes me to shut down, or even sends me into a death-spiral of negative thoughts and despair. To put it most simply, I take my partner’s feelings personally, and that has very harmful effects on my own emotional state. 

But in choosing radical acceptance of my partner, I can accept his moods as momentary instead of something that I need to fix. I can radically accept not only him, but his feelings. That means noticing and acknowledging them without judgment and without trying to fix them.

When I say “without trying to fix them,” I don’t mean that there isn’t a place for constructive criticism. It would be silly to live with something that frustrates you about your partner without at least letting them know that it bothers you. In loving relationships, this must be approached with a high level of sensitivity and consideration. The goal should always be to protect your connection and strengthen your relationship while trying to address something you’d prefer to be different. 

But the word “fix” implies that something is broken. It also is an action word, something that you do to something. Just because you are annoyed or even hurt by someone’s behavior doesn’t mean that they are broken, and it is never our job to fix someone else. We can’t change their behavior for them, after all. We can only advocate for ourselves and our preferences, and allow them the chance to adjust accordingly if they wish. 

Regardless of our differences and imperfections, our partners need to know that we accept them fully. We can see their flaws as a part of them that we hope will improve over time, but that doesn’t detract from their value to us. We love them, flaws and all. It doesn’t mean we love the flaws—or that we are okay with our boundaries being violated. But we choose to love our partner, unconditionally. 

Unconditional love does not mean we don’t have boundaries. Boundaries are for our protection. Because while it’s not okay for our partners to hurt us, the reality is that everybody hurts others at times, and everybody gets hurt by others in life. It’s unescapable, and it’s inevitable that at times our partners will hurt us and vice versa. Trying to avoid being hurt at all costs and cut off any relationship that isn’t perfect would mean choosing to be alone. 

That’s why boundaries are so important. They keep us safe! Before you can expect someone to honor your boundaries, you first need to define them for yourself and then communicate them to the other person. It isn’t fair to blame somebody for crossing a boundary when they weren’t even aware that it existed. In short, we need to decide what we are okay with, and we are not okay with. We also need to sort out which things are our preferences, and which are our non-negotiable boundaries.

Preferences are not deal-breakers. They are things that frustrate or annoy us or bother us. It is good and healthy to communicate these things to our partners in a kind way, because oftentimes they are willing and able to make small changes to improve for us; we should be willing to do the same for them, of course. If they aren’t willing or able to change those things, that’s where radical acceptance comes in. 

Boundaries are more serious. They involve defining treatment that we won’t accept, and the consequences for those who violate them. 

Some boundaries that I have are the following: I won’t accept being talked down to, being yelled at, being blamed for things that are not my fault, or being snapped at. I won’t accept my partner storming out and ignoring me. I won’t accept being criticized in a way that is intentionally hurtful and/or not constructive. 

When I say that I “won’t accept” something, it doesn’t mean that I will end our relationship. It just means that I will call it out, and then take space as needed. I won’t be around energy that is making me feel badly; I will either physically leave or create a safe mental space by pausing the conversation and doing something else by myself. I also won’t fake affection. If I’m feeling disconnected from my partner, I won’t act like everything is fine. I require resolution of the issue before I am willing to interact with him on that level.

In my marriage, the key here is that my withdrawal, whether physical or emotional, is temporary. Even when I have to step away to enforce a boundary, I don’t try to punish him by making him afraid that I am not coming back. He knows that I am ready to work with him on our disagreement or issue as soon as we are both in a good headspace to do so. 

In other relationships, like with acquaintances, friends, or extended family members, the consequences might be different. Violating some boundaries actually could lead to me ending a relationship. Sometimes that is the healthiest thing to do. But for the people whom I love, I want to try to preserve the relationship whenever possible. Using boundaries where they are needed and radical acceptance for the rest is a great way to accomplish that without letting resentment build up. 

When conflicts arise with others, including my partner, I try to use the perspective of asking myself “What would I rather them do?” and “Is that a reasonable expectation?” as well as “What can I do to be constructive in this situation?”

For example, say that I’m frustrated that my partner has not done a chore that he agreed to do. I am annoyed because I don’t want to have to be his manager or nag him to do things that he should be able to do on his own. He isn’t being a co-equal contributor to our household. 

So what would I rather him do? I would rather him do his agreed-upon chores in a timely manner without me having to remind him. Is that a reasonable expectation? For many people, it would be. But for my partner, who has ADHD, it is much more of a challenge. 

I have a few choices here. I could passive-aggressively hint that he hasn’t done his chore. “Ugh, it would be nice if we had some clean dishes.” I could tell him aggressively. “For the love of God, do the damn dishes!” Or, I could tell him calmly and assertively how I feel about the situation and what I would like from him. “I feel frustrated because I noticed that the dishes have really piled up, and it’s your turn to do them. I hate that I have to remind you so often. It makes me feel like your mother instead of your wife.”

That last option is perfectly valid. However. 

Radical acceptance takes it a step further. Instead, I check my own expectations, offer empathy, and then I just… let it go. I ask myself why it feels like a negative thing to have to remind him. I remember that this is an issue of mine that I am trying to work on—being willing to be assertive as well as ask other people for help. 

I remember that he is neurodivergent and any ideas of what things “should be” like don’t really matter as long as we have a system that works for us. So the thing that I can do to be most constructive and functional in this situation is to simply remind him. I let go of the frustration, resentment, annoyance, or whatever negative feelings I was having; I can do that because I examined the underlying thoughts behind those feelings, and reframed them. “Babe, can you do the dishes tonight please?” 

It’s quite simple, when you think about it.

I also think it’s important to resist the temptation to let an issue or an event become bigger than it is. Even if it’s a recurring issue, it probably isn’t a deal-breaker for the relationship. 

The chore-related conflict I described is not an uncommon occurrence for me. It’s something that happens regularly. And there are plenty of other conflicts or disappointments in my marriage that happen regularly as well. He’s not perfect, and neither am I. Because of these things, I could choose to label him as an asshole. I could begin building a case, consciously or subconsciously, for why he’s a bad partner and our relationship is never going to survive the long haul. I could despair and emotionally withdraw from him. To be honest, sometimes I do find myself starting to do any and all of these things in my initial reaction.

But when I’m clear-headed, the path that I would much rather take is radical acceptance. I could recognize that the issue we’re struggling with is a flaw of his or mine or both, and that it is one of the challenges we face as partners. But there are also so many things that I love about him and our relationship. I know that if we work together, with time and patience, we can overcome these things together. 

It’s easy to blame the other person for conflicts, but it’s also important to honestly examine your own role in the problem. Are you overreacting to something because it is a trigger for you? Are your expectations realistic, taking into consideration your partner’s uniqueness and the context of the situation? Have you clearly communicated this preference or boundary to them?

I know that as an empath, I am affected more than “normal” by subtle shifts in my partner’s mood. What one person might consider barely a thing, to me feels like a punch in the gut. That isn’t his fault, and it’s something I need to take into account before I jump to the conclusion that he needs to change something. 

In partnership, communication is so important. When something is bothering me, I need to talk to my partner about it. This is easier said than done because when I’m hurt, it can be scary to let the person who hurt me know. It feels vulnerable. It can be uncomfortable to give them the chance to defend themselves when I know that what they did was wrong. It can feel upsetting to have to spell it out for them when it’s so obvious to me. But talking about it is often the only way to find resolution.

Listening is equally important, if not more. I need to invite my partner to talk it out with me and to share his perspective. I need to listen without interrupting, trying to defend myself, or planning my response. Only after both of us have shared our thoughts and feelings can we move on to problem solving together. We become a team, working towards a common goal. 

Radical acceptance helps with all of these things. It helps me to express myself more fully, because I have self-love and I am confident in advocating for myself. It helps me to listen more sincerely, because I’m focused on how I can love my partner best. It helps me to be quick to forgive, because I know that neither of us are perfect and that’s okay. It helps me to let go of things that are over now, because the past is past and we can only move forward. 

Above all, I remind myself about how much I love him and the life that we’ve built together. Things aren’t always and won’t always be as hard as they are in the bad moments. No matter what, we are in this together, through thick and thin—forever. 

That’s Rad

I am a type A personality.

This can mean a variety of things to different people, so let me break it down as to what this looks like for me.

I like things a certain way. I like things clean, organized, and sanitary. I wouldn’t consider myself a perfectionist though—that part of me had to die when I had kids because believe me, nothing is ever perfectly clean, organized, or sanitary. I’m lucky if things can be mostly clean, organized, and sanitary for at least some of the time.

But anyway.

I also want things to make sense and be clear. I put a lot of effort, energy, and thought into most of the things I do, say, and believe. I really do try to do my best at everything and be a good person. I always try to do the right thing.

Being this way can at times make me feel a bit frazzled by people who aren’t the same way. People who aren’t as methodical, or organized, or considerate—they can be incredibly irritating to me. When people like that are just living their own lives and it isn’t affecting me, that’s one thing. I couldn’t care less, so long as they aren’t hurting others. But when I’m around people who are not quite up to my personal standards, and they’re directly affecting me and my life (even in seemingly small ways), I can easily get overwhelmed and frustrated.

The sense of helplessness is what gets me. I feel helpless because I know that I’m doing my best, but the other person clearly isn’t, and this is causing problems for me that I have no way to fix. I can only keep my side of the street clean—so when the street is a mess despite my best efforts, because other people aren’t doing their part… well, that’s a sucky feeling.

I’m trying to survive in a world where everything isn’t always as it should be, because other people tend to… well, suck. I have to consciously remind myself that I am not responsible for other people’s behavior or feelings or opinions. I have to remind myself that other people are going to do whatever they are going to do, and I have to be able to roll with the punches.

As such, one of my mottos in life is that you can’t control others; you can only control yourself.

This all feeds into a philosophy I try to embrace in my life, which I like to call “radical acceptance.”

I have not heard this term anywhere else. I came up with it to conceptualize a philosophy that I’ve been trying to cultivate in my life. In a nutshell, radical acceptance means seeing the good in people and circumstances while also accepting the bad parts without judgment. For strangers or general people in our lives, it means being non-judgmental, forgiving, and compassionate. For ourselves and the people close to us, it means choosing to love and support unconditionally. For our circumstances, it means finding gratitude and remaining hopeful without requiring perfection.

Radical acceptance means choosing to accept others with all their differences, faults, and flaws. It often means choosing to forgive things that are unfair, unkind, or uncool. It means giving grace instead of harboring resentment. It means being the bigger person, without getting a big head. It means deescalating even when it would feel more satisfying to stick to my guns.

It means loving the people in your life just as they are, instead of needing to fix or change them to make them loveable. It means accepting yourself for who you are—the things you are good at, the things you struggle with, your quirks, your unique needs, your passions and interests, and everything else that makes you who you are. 

To put it most simply, radical acceptance means letting go. To radically accept someone or something, you must let go of control and the need to change or fix it. It is what it is, and you accept that. Or, to put it another way, radical acceptance means caring less about things that don’t truly matter.

Trying to be a person who embraces radical acceptance is challenging for me. I idealize it, though, because I have come to realize that a lot of my life is spent focused on fixing. I see problems with myself, with others, with things in my life, and I immediately go into fixing mode. I want to solve the problem, make changes, and make it better. In theory this sounds like a good thing, but in reality, I have found it to be exhausting, defeating, and depressing. It is not easy for me to simply accept imperfection and sit in it. It’s against every instinct I have.

But the urge to continuously improve is not bringing me happiness. It’s bringing me hopelessness, more than anything. Life will never be anything close to perfect. Even at the point in my life where things were outwardly the most perfect that I could have imagined, I wasn’t truly happy. I had an easy and happy marriage, three wonderful kids, a gorgeous house, financial stability, time and energy to work on my writing, reasonable support to pursue my hobbies and interests, a secure plan for my future, good relationships with my extended family, a sense of community and friendship in my day-to-day life… basically everything that makes up a “good life” was there. But it wasn’t enough. I was at the summit and there was nowhere to go but down. And so down I went.

My life now is much further from “perfect,” although beautiful in its own way. Still, I often find myself wondering if I ruined my life with the choices I made. But the truth that’s even scarier to admit is that regardless of my circumstances, I have never really been satisfied. Nothing is ever enough, and I am afraid it never will be. Why? Maybe because I haven’t learned to just accept things as they are without trying to change them.

Radical acceptance is possibly just a desperate ploy to stop the endless reaching. Will it work? I have no idea. In a lot of ways it feels like defeat, complacency, and giving up on ever being happy. And this is why I have spent months working on this post trying to gather my thoughts enough to put together something coherent. Because what am I even trying to say?

But I think what I’m trying to say is that I suspect this idea of radical acceptance just might be the key to me finding peace. Because even though it may seem like “giving up” in some ways, it’s really more about giving up things that don’t truly matter so that I can better focus on the things that do. I want to do my best in life, and I want to believe that most people are probably doing the same. And I want that to be enough.

It is so hard to truly believe that I am enough, and that other people are enough, and that my circumstances are enough. Because other people can really suck sometimes, and circumstances can really suck sometimes, and if we’re being honest then the truth is that I can really suck sometimes too.

Anyone who has seen the new Inside Out movie can probably understand what I mean when I say that I want it to be true that I am a good person even with my flaws. “I am a good person,” is a powerful belief, and shouldn’t be incompatible with the multitude of facets we all have within us. I am kind and I am mean and I am smart and I am stupid and I am brave and I am scared… but I am still a good person, right? Right?!

But much like Riley in the movie, I am finding it difficult to accept myself as a good person because the loudest voice in my head is telling me that I’m not good enough. That’s where radical acceptance comes into play. If I can just embrace that, I could maybe hold onto the believe that I am good enough. Not just good enough, but good and enough.

The reality is that nobody can be expected to do better than their best. And only I can know if I am doing my best. Maybe the point is that we all need to stay in our own lane, because we are in no place to judge other people in that regard. So instead of passing judgment, we can just accept. We can accept ourselves and others as worthy of love, and forgiveness, and the opportunity to keep growing.

For practical purposes, boundaries are what we use to keep ourselves and others safe, but we don’t have to apply a value judgment when we set a boundary. We can say “I won’t let this person do this to me (or others); this is my boundary and the consequence for breaking it will be ____.” We can say that without saying “you broke my boundary, so you are not acceptable. Nobody should love you, forgive you, or care about you. You are a bad person.” Sure, saying those things might feel good because they make us feel powerful against those who make us feel powerless. But that isn’t our place, is it?

Certainly we don’t need to love and forgive everyone, and especially not those who have hurt us. But we can accept the situation; accept what happened, and that it’s over, and that we don’t have to stay there anymore. We can accept that they are who they are, and that it’s really none of our business whether they are doing their best or not, because we are moving on and away from them.

Boundaries are really what makes radical acceptance a safe and healthy option. Respectfully setting and enforcing boundaries is vital to caring for yourself and avoiding co-dependence; because radical acceptance shouldn’t mean becoming a doormat, accepting injustice, or being complacent.

The goal of radical acceptance is not to give up or give in, but to keep moving forward, propelled by tenacious peace that comes from within. That is peace that is not fragile or dependent on external forces. That is peace that nobody and nothing can take away.

Silence Is Golden

I’ve been having some anger problems of late. After my last post, that’s probably no surprise. I’ve also written about my anger control issues before, which I’ve struggled with all my life. So this is not exactly breaking news, right?

But lately it’s taken on a different flavor. It’s beyond anger, or frustration, or irritation from being over-stimulated. It’s rage. 

My rage makes an appearance pretty often lately. It sneaks up on me and takes over, swiftly and overwhelmingly. It’s triggered by a few different things, frustration being one of them. But a bigger trigger lately is the feeling of being powerless, helpless, silenced, and/or unheard. 

For example, the person I wrote about in Vigilante Shit incurred my rage because they became aggressive towards me when I tried to enforce a boundary of mine that they were disrespecting. This led to me feeling helpless because I did everything I could to make that relationship harmonious, and the other person was still a bully. I was powerless to improve the situation while still protecting myself. And that sucks. 

Smaller things can also trigger my rage lately, when they trigger the same or similar feelings. Someone honking at me when they were the one who did something wrong. Someone being rude to me for no reason. Someone being inconsiderate and then being a prick about it if I say something. 

Basically, I go through the world trying my best to be a kind person. But when my kindness (or just my audacity to exist and/or stand up for myself) receives an aggressive response, it really pisses me off. In short, I’m a sweet little bunny until you fuck with me, and then I morph into a honey badger. 

It was hard at first for me to see the connection between that type of interaction and the feeling of helplessness or being unheard. But basically it’s a situation where I’m doing everything I can to be a good person, but I’m still treated as if I did something wrong. That feels helpless because I have no control over other people or how they treat me. My only influence over that is how I treat them, and unfortunately there are many people in this world who just don’t care. They will treat others badly if it suits them in the moment, and there is nothing anybody can do about it. 

Why does this trigger such rage in me? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself and exploring, and I think I might have an answer. 

This may sound a little “out there” to some people, but I believe that I experienced a childhood trauma that I have repressed. I believe that it was some kind of sexual abuse, and I have ideas about who might have been the perpetrator(s). But I have no solid memories. Just a gut feeling that has followed me around for over a decade now. 

Because I don’t have any memories, I tend to question myself about whether anything really happened.* I have high key imposter syndrome when it comes to being a trauma survivor. It feels really wrong to put myself in that category when I’m not 100% sure that I belong there. 

Of course, I know that I’m good at gaslighting myself, and it’s also possible that’s what’s going on here. Because when I allow myself to mindfully explore my childhood memories and speak to my past selves, I hear myself saying that something happened.

Ultimately, the results are the same. For some reason, either trauma-related or because it’s just who I am, I have a high sensitivity level to feelings of helplessness and being unheard. I believe that is because it triggers a childhood trauma in which I also felt helpless, powerless, and unheard. 

I feel unheard often. Sometimes it feels like the people closest to me don’t pay attention when I talk. Sometimes it feels like I’m shouting into the void and nothing I say is being absorbed by anyone. Sometimes it feels as if no matter how much I write and share, the few people who read it still don’t truly understand me. These are feelings, not facts. In reality, these things may or may not be true. Or, maybe it’s impossible for anyone to truly understand another person; maybe we just think that we can. 

Feeling unheard in those ways doesn’t put me in a rage, though–it just makes me feel sad and alone. What puts me in a rage is when I’m in any sort of conflict with another person, and I try to communicate something to make the situation better, or I try to defend myself, and they either don’t hear it, won’t listen, or misunderstand. Often it seems that they hear things I didn’t say, or read things I didn’t write. It’s so frustrating to be unable to make people understand. 

I think that the key to my rage is that I sense aggression directed at me. When I feel unheard, it doesn’t feel like an attack. But when somebody is mad at me, I do feel like I am under attack. I can literally feel my body going into fight or flight mode. My heart starts to race, I feel blood rushing from my extremities, and often I will start to tremble. Sometimes I feel nauseous or an uncontrollable urge to cry. 

When I am under attack, my first instinct (after my brain has a moment to process the threat) is to fight like hell. I quite literally am ready to fight someone, even though the threat is almost never physical. It’s all emotional, but to my brain the threat feels very real and needs to be addressed immediately. I can’t fully calm down until I have resolved it in some way, and even then just thinking about the event can cause the same physical reaction and trigger my rage all over again.

It’s all very interesting. It’s also something I don’t want to be controlled by. And so, it is something I am working on. 

My new approach is to remember the most important rule when dealing with a bully: usually the best way to stop them is to ignore them. Silence is golden! Any sort of reaction from you only gives them the attention that they want. But when you ignore them, there is nothing left for them to do because you are simply not engaging. Of course, it’s also important to protect yourself and your boundaries, which I believe is best done clearly, and succinctly. Everybody deserves a chance to realize their mistakes and redeem themselves. 

However, they should not need to be reminded constantly of your boundaries, nor should you try to explain yourself over and over again. They. Will. Not. Change. That’s when it’s time to move on to ignoring them.

None of this applies to children being bullied, or people of any age facing physical threats, to be clear. Children need to be protected from bullies, period. They should not be expected to ignore it; they can learn how to do that when they’re older, but until then we must protect them to the best of our ability because they are vulnerable and that is our job. Children who are bullies need to be stopped if there’s any hope for them to grow up and not be an adult bully.

Side-rant over.

My new approach is to ignore bullying behavior. Don’t respond. Do nothing. Say nothing. So simple!

I also am using mantras to help soothe my stress response and feelings of anger that could quickly escalate to rage. My mantras are: “This is not an emergency.”; and “I am calm, cool, collected, and in control of myself, even in chaos or conflict.” That second one is long, but easy for me to remember because of all the C’s. And it helps. If I can manage to stay silent and still for just a few moments and repeat these mantras, I can usually regain control of myself.

Reminding myself that “this is not an emergency” is huge. Because my brain thinks it is an emergency and I am being threatened in some way, when really all that’s happening is something insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe my kids are running late for school… but really, that is okay. Nothing bad will happen. Or maybe somebody honked at me. That’s okay, too. It is not an emergency. I am calm, cool, collected, and in control of myself.  Who cares that somebody I don’t know and will likely never see again wrongly thinks I did something to them? Who cares if they’re screaming profanities at me from their car window? I don’t have to look. I don’t have to do anything except continue to drive safely. 

In situations like this, whatever happened truly does not matter. So I can just let it go. 

A lot of the time, reminding myself of that is all I need to calm down and diffuse my rising anger before it explodes into rage. And that is super important to me, because I want to be the kind of person who makes the world better, not worse. 

*Correction: I do have some definite memories of these things, but I’m so used to disregarding them because I didn’t want to believe it was sexual abuse. The things I remember were “not that bad” so to speak. But I suspect that there were more and worse events that took place which I have completely blocked out.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:

I want to make it very clear that the abuse I experienced was not at the hands of anyone in my immediate family. This was not my dad, mom, or brother. I have no intention of naming names, but I do want to make sure nobody thinks my parents did that. My parents never abused me in any way!

Vigilante Shit

There is a blog post that I wrote but can’t post.

Personally, I have no issue with putting someone on blast when it is well deserved. And believe me, the person about whom I wrote the post deserves it.

This is a person whom I have been nothing but kind to, yet they have been an absolute snot towards me. It’s always been behind my back, and it’s always been done in a way that makes it seem not directed at me; but we all know that it is.

Treating me badly is one thing. I can get over that, limit my contact with them as needed, and move on. But treating someone I love badly—now that is a crime I will not forgive. Treating someone I love badly, while giving me the middle finger, and then trying to become the victim? That’s liable to put me right over the edge. And oh, it has.

Out of respect for other parties involved, I am keeping all the sordid details saved as a draft on my computer… at least for now. Maybe one day I will have the green light to break the silence on this one. For now, I will have to be satisfied by this vague post, and the thin hope that it is read and understood by this person who so badly deserves to be raked over the coals.

I can’t express all of the rage I feel in words the way I would like to, but I can share these lyrics. These are all from songs on a playlist of mine called “Vigilante Shit”, and these are the words that I relate to the most right now.

“thanK you aIMee” by Taylor Swift

All that time you were throwing punches
I was building something
And I can’t forgive the way you made me feel
Screamed, “Fuck you, _____” to the night sky
As the blood was gushing
But I can’t forget the way you made me heal

And it wasn’t a fair fight, or a clean kill
Each time that _____ stomped across my grave
And then she wrote headlines in the local paper
Laughing at each baby step I’d take
And it was always the same searing pain
But I prayed that one day, I could say

All that time you were throwing punches
I was building something
And I couldn’t wait to show you it was real

I wrote a thousand songs that you find uncool
I built a legacy that you can’t undo
But when I count the scars, there’s a moment of truth
That there wouldn’t be this if there hadn’t been you

And maybe you’ve reframed it
And in your mind, you never beat my spirit black and blue
I don’t think you’ve changed much
And so I changed your name and any real defining clues
And one day, your kid comes home singing
A song that only us two is gonna know is about you ’cause

All that time you were throwing punches
It was all for nothing.

“Vigilante Shit” by Taylor Swift

You did some bad things, but I’m the worst of them
Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie
They say looks can kill and I might try

Ladies always rise above
Ladies know what people want
Someone sweet and kind and fun
The lady simply had enough

I don’t start shit but I can tell you how it ends.

“abcdefu” by GAYLE

I was tryin’ to be nice
But nothing’s getting through, so let me spell it out
A-B-C-D-E, F-U
And your mom and your sister and your job
And your broke-ass car and that shit you call art
Fuck you and your friends that I’ll never see again
Everybody but your dog, you can all fuck off

“Cross My Heart I Hope U Die” by Meg Smith

Save me your excuse
Before it leaves your lips
You’ve tied the noose
And then you let it slip from under you
I hope that hell feels good

You’re gone and buried
The cemetery
(Oh) ain’t it scary?
R.I.P. you’re dead to me

“MEAN!” by Madeline The Person

One thing I like about me is that I’m nothing like you and I never will be
Someone who loves how it sounds when they speak
You’re not telling the truth, no, you’re just being mean

Had this look in your eye like you won (ooh, ooh, ooh)
Oh, but I can’t be surprised
You care less the more damage you’ve done (ooh, ooh, ooh)
I’m glad you’re working through all your issues
Projecting on me will never be the way to fix you.

“I hope ur miserable until ur dead” by Nessa Barrett

I still hear your voice, tryna rip my world to pieces
But I’m not your toy, you can break and leave there bleeding
The damage is done, moving on if I’m ready or not
But you drag me through mud, here I come now, I’m petty as fuck
(I’m petty as fuck)

I hope you never fall in love again
I hope you be yourself and lose your friends
I hope they call you out for shit you said
I hope you’re miserable until you’re dead
I hope you’re miserable, oh
So fucking miserable, oh
I hopе you’re miserable
I hopе you’re miserable until you’re dead

Been keeping your shit to myself
If I said it out loud, you’d be burning in Hell
And I can make everybody hate you, almost as much as you hate yourself
But I won’t ’cause (I won’t)
I know (I know), one day it’ll come around
But fuck you for now

“Wish You the Worst” by Ryan Mack

The worst thing about you is your ego, you’re so damn evil
You try to get to me by talking shit to other people
On a keyboard, not the real world when I see ya
‘Cause you’re you’re just another diva talking shit behind a screen

And I know, I know
That I should just forget about you
But oh, oh-oh
I’ve got something that I’m dying to say

When you’re out on a date and you order dessert
I hope you spill and it stains on your favorite shirt
And when you’re trying to pay, I hope your card doesn’t work
Yeah, I wish you the worst, I wish you the worst

And I hope I never ever see you again
Yeah, fuck you and all of your friends
You can all go to hell, I’ll be driving the hearse
Toss a coin in the well and I wish you the worst
Yeah, I wish you the worst

“Gives You Hell” by The All-American Rejects

When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell
If you find a (wo)man that’s worth a damn and treats you well
Then (s)he’s a fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell

Tomorrow you’ll be thinkin’ to yourself
Yeah, where’d it all go wrong?
But the list goes on and on

Now, you’ll never see what you’ve done to me
You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me
And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes
With the sad, sad look that you wear so well

“Karma” by Taylor Swift

You’re talking shit for the hell of it
Addicted to betrayal, but you’re relevant
You’re terrified to look down

‘Cause if you dare, you’ll see the glare
Of everyone you burned just to get there
It’s coming back around

And I keep my side of the street clean
You wouldn’t know what I mean.

‘Cause karma is my (husband)
Karma is a god
Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend
Karma’s a relaxing thought
Aren’t you envious that for you it’s not?
Sweet like honey, karma is a cat
Purring in my lap ’cause it loves me
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat
Me and karma vibe like that

‘Cause karma is the thunder
Rattling your ground
Karma’s on your scent like a bounty hunter
Karma’s gonna track you down
Step by step from town to town
Sweet like justice, karma is a queen
Karma takes all my friends to the summit
Karma is the guy on the screen
Coming straight home to me

“This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” by Taylor Swift

This is why we can’t have nice things, darlin’
Because you break them, I had to take them away
This is why we can’t have nice things, honey (oh)
Did you think I wouldn’t hear all the things you said about me?
This is why we can’t have nice things
It was so nice being friends again
There I was, giving you a second chance
But you stabbed me in the back while shakin’ my hand

And therein lies the issue, friends don’t try to trick you
Get you on the phone and mind-twist you
And so I took an axe to a mended fence
But I’m not the only friend you’ve lost lately
If only you weren’t so shady

Need You to Need Me

One of the things I hate most in life is the feeling of being a burden. I’ve written about this before, but the more I come to understand my own psyche, the more I realize just how deep this issue goes. Not only do I strive to avoid being an inconvenience or a trouble for others; it extends to me needing to feel needed. If I’m serving a purpose for others, especially a purpose that nobody else can fill (or fill as well), then I’m not in danger of becoming a burden. I strive to add value to the lives of others rather than detract from it. 

Why is this so important to me? It’s a question I am still trying to find the answer to. 

I think that one reason is my fear of being selfish. I was raised to see Jesus Christ as the ultimate example for how to live, and Jesus is the prime example of being selfless to the point of self-sacrifice for the sake of others. The idea of sacrificing oneself out of love for others is one that I have idealized from a young age. To me, being a selfish and self-centered person is one of the worst things I could be. Virtually all the problems with the world could be fixed or drastically improved if people simply weren’t selfish. It’s the root of all evil, if you think about it!

But beyond the philosophical ramifications of selfishness, I also think that I strive to put others before myself because of a deeply rooted lack of self-love. It sounds sad to put it that way, because it’s not that I think poorly of myself. I believe that I am a good person, and I like who I am—but that’s because I work hard to be a person I can respect. My love for myself has to be earned, just as I feel the need to earn the love of other people in my life. 

It is ironic, in a way, that I feel the need to earn love, even from myself. One of the main tenets of Christianity is that God’s love cannot be earned; instead, we’re supposed to accept God’s love as grace. So, trying to earn it is just silly. But, at the same time, maybe my desperate need to earn love, not only from God but from everyone else, is a reaction that makes perfect sense. Essentially, we’re told that we could never be good enough to deserve God’s love… and to that, I say: challenge accepted. 

Whether trying to be good enough to deserve love is a complex that stems from my upbringing in Christian culture, or from a variety of sources, it seems to be a fundamental part of my personal psychology. 

I focus on my mission to be needed because it is the only way I can feel valued. 

But there is another reason, too. Feeling needed is an excellent distraction from my own pain, anxiety, depression, and even boredom. If I’m focused on others, I can ignore myself. Or at least I can try.

Like a substance abuser who needs more and more of the substance over time to obtain the same effects, I seem to need more and more purpose. Maybe the “self” that I’m trying to ignore is getting louder to try to be heard over the noise of all of the other needs I surround myself with. Instead of listening, I just add more noise. And what is the best way to create a noisy life? Kids and animals, of course. (The ironic thing about this is that I have a high sensitivity to literal noise, and so I often find myself dealing with sensory overstimulation that causes a cascade of other issues). 

Long story short, I bring children and pets into my life because they need me, and I need to be needed. 

But, I’m also human. I get overwhelmed, stressed out, and burned out when I feel like I can’t keep up with all of the needs around me. I react by blowing up, or by trying to reduce my responsibilities—quitting things, basically. It’s too hard and I retreat; that is, until I start to feel restless again and I find new things to keep me busy. It’s a vicious cycle, y’all. 

I had a realization a while back—maybe a year ago, if I had to estimate. I realized that there came a point in my last marriage where I felt like I was no longer needed. I’d always felt that my ex and I made a great team in life. But when we became polyamorous and I started to find things that gave me life outside of our marriage and our family, I sensed resentment building up towards me. Perhaps it was that resentment that produced an attitude that I was no longer needed. My contributions to my family and home were suddenly not enough, or not valued. 

Besides, I was never a perfect parent (and shockingly, I’m still not!). I started to question my purpose in life.  I felt like I could disappear and my ex and kids would ultimately be fine, if not somehow better off. 

Meanwhile, my new partner needed me. He was like a wounded animal who needed to be loved and cared for and nursed back to health. And he loved me and appreciated me and it was gratifying to feel that I was making a positive difference in his life. I once again had a purpose. He needed me, and my ex didn’t, so when my ex essentially made me choose between the two of them, I chose the one who needed me more. 

Nowadays, I feel adequately needed by the people (and animals) in my life—most of the time. There are times when my kiddos say that they want to be at their dad’s house instead of mine, and times when my preschooler says she misses daddy when she’s with me but not the other way around. This is the reality of co-parenting. No matter what I do to make our home appealing for them, the kids will still complain, and they will still have times when they prefer the other parent’s home. The grass is always greener on the other side, right? 

Kids complaining is another big factor in my feeling unneeded. It’s quite a leap from “I wish you did this one thing differently” to “I wish you weren’t in my life.” Yet, my mind has no problem making that jump. When I do my best as a mom, and the kids still complain, it makes me feel like a failure. It makes me feel like my very best is not enough; it makes me feel like I’m not enough. 

A critical component in any machine is useless if it doesn’t work right—it can even be worse than useless if it causes a cascade of malfunctions. So, when it seems like I just can’t do anything right, I start to feel not only that I’m useless, but that I’m—you can probably guess it—a burden. I’m a problem, a nuisance, an obstacle to the happiness of others. I’m a crumpled-up piece of paper lying here, unusable and in the way. I ruin things, because I’m a ruiner. 

Which of course, circles back to the whole self-love deficit I’ve discovered within myself. Unfortunately, it’s not something that I know how to fix. Instead, until I find a better solution, I will continue to try to patch it with distractions and trying to find value in my existence (and most likely failing). 

Sorry… that got a bit depressing. But that’s life, am I right? There’s not always a lesson or a silver lining or a happy ending. Sometimes, you just struggle until you die. But hey—it could be much worse for me. My life is objectively pretty great, and my problems are miniscule compared to so many other people. I really shouldn’t complain. 

Maybe my mental shenanigans are my mind’s way of creating interest in an otherwise-too-easy life. Maybe I’m choosing to feel this way and let anxiety and depression mess me up. Maybe I should try just being happy. 

Unfortunately, I have so far been unable to do so. It’s not that I’m never happy; I’m actually happy fairly often. But it’s never long before I fall from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole. Long story short it’s a bad time. And so the cycle continues. 

Karma

Have you ever had to take the high road in life?

I think most people have at least once or twice. There have certainly been plenty of times in my life I can think of where I’ve had to be the bigger person in a situation or relationship. Usually, I can let go of whatever insult or slight I’ve chosen to overlook, and ultimately feel good about doing so. 

Sometimes, though, you have to keep your mouth shut about something that just screams injustice. Perhaps you are taking into consideration the feelings of a third party who would be affected by your calling out the offense. Or perhaps you know that speaking up would only cause more turmoil. Whatever the case may be, it can be very frustrating and uncomfortable to have to grin and bear it when you see someone getting away with something messed up. It’s even worse when that person starts telling other people that they’re the victim in the situation, and never ever takes responsibility for the terrible things they did. 

Enter, karma. 

Karma is a relaxing thought. It promises that even when you can’t get “revenge” on someone directly, they will still get what they deserve in the end. What comes around, goes around. 

I have a situation like this in my life that often chafes at me. For the sake of anonymity and being discreet (hopefully), I’ll explain it as a situation between five friends. 

We start with Friend A and Friend B. They are very close for many years. They do almost everything together, and they have a dynamic that feels basically content. After a few years of being great friends, they even make a new friend together– Friend C. The three of them are a happy little trio, and they go through the ups and downs of life together. 

But one day, Friend A makes a new friend— Friend D. When A meets D, things start to change. Friend A realizes that while their friendship with B is comfortable, their friendship with D is exciting. Friend A starts to want to spend more time with Friend D than with Friend B. But A also doesn’t want B to go find other friends, because then B wouldn’t be around when A needed them. You see, the plain and simple truth is that Friend A is selfish. 

Friend C is mostly oblivious to everything going on, and really only cares about their friend group staying together. 

Well, eventually Friend B gets really lonely and starts to look for other friends. B doesn’t want to replace A; they just want a new friend to keep them company when A is busy with D. (Friend C is still there, of course, and they’re great! But, truth be told, C isn’t really best friend material).

That’s when Friend B meets a new friend–the final character in this story: Friend E.  

When B meets E and gets to know them, B realizes that A has been treating them very badly indeed. A is controlling, manipulative, demanding, and unkind. B finally understands what true friendship should look like because E shows them. And once B finally sees what has been happening for all of those years, they really can’t stay friends with A any longer. They need to break free to find their own happiness!

Of course, Friend A does not like this at all. Friend B is very important to them, not because of an emotional attachment, but because Friend B does a lot of things for A. Without B, Friend A would have to do things for themselves, and that sounds just awful. Friend A doesn’t care that B is unhappy, because if we’re being honest, A is a bit of a narcissist. Being abusive to B has become a habit for A, and the idea of losing their punching bag is very unappealing. 

Nevertheless, Friend B does break free. B becomes best friends with E, and even brings Friend C along to join their new friend group. Even though C is sad that their two OG friends aren’t friends with each other anymore, they adjust to the new dynamic and they’re able to travel between the two friend groups. And Friend A has their new best friend, D, so the reasonable conclusion would be that everyone wins, right?

That would make sense, except that as I mentioned before, Friend A is narcissistic; that means that they see themselves as a victim, and believe that they are never to blame for anything that goes wrong in their own life. The fact that Friend B had the nerve to end their friendship is infuriating. 

What happens after that is that while Friends B and E are moving on and happy together, Friend A is pissed. They did not get what they wanted out of the situation, and even though Friends C and D are still with them and they are closer than ever, it just isn’t enough. Friend A does the only thing that they can think of to do to change the optics; they become the victim and make sure that everyone who will listen knows how very wronged they were by Friend B. 

Friend A talks to Friend C about how sad they are that Friend B has left them. (While the truth is that the only thing A is actually sad about is that B isn’t there to provide for their every need). But A is so convincing, and C trusts A, so Friend C buys into it completely. They even cry about it together. Friend B destroyed their trio, and they both remember it all too well.

This is all fine and dandy, because Friend B has moved on with their life, and Friend E doesn’t really care what Friend A thinks. Even though Friend A tried to hurt Friend E out of spite on multiple occasions, Friend E basically just turned the other cheek because in the end, they knew that they had won. They had Friend B, and Friend A did not. 

But the problem is that E does care about what Friend C thinks. And it gets really frustrating to hear Friend C talking about how traumatic the whole friendship breakup situation was for Friend A. It’s really hard for Friend E to hear the bullshit about how Friend A was the victim in that story. Because E saw everything; the abuse that A put B through, and the total lack of love reciprocated. A was merely tolerating B’s friendship for so many of those years. A was not heartbroken. A had damaged B so profoundly that E knew they would be picking up the pieces for years to come. And while E might have been able to overlook the terrible way that A had treated them, E could not forgive the way that A had treated their best friend, B. 

That’s where our little alphabet story ends, because keeping the peace is more important at this point than making sure that the truth is known. The past is past, and digging it up again isn’t going to help anyone. 

But if there’s one thing that makes me feel just the slightest bit better, it’s this: karma is my husband, and karma is sweet like justice. 😉 

Aftermath

Divorce is a weird experience. 

For one thing, it can mean different things to different people. 

For some it feels like defeat; for others, freedom. For some, it is a time of heartbreak and devastation; for others, a time of celebration and rebirth. It can be amicable and even unremarkable; or, it can be acrimonious and dramatic. 

Sometimes, divorce is many things to a person—either all at once, or day-by-day. What I mean by that is that for some people, they can feel both negative and positive feelings toward their divorce simultaneously. And for some people, how they feel varies from day to day, week to week, month to month, etc; sometimes they feel positively about it, and sometimes they feel negatively. 

The thing about divorce is that nobody plans for it to happen. (The word “nobody” here is used hyperbolically; I’m sure there are some people out there who marry with the intention of divorcing, for a variety of reasons either unhinged or calculated, or perhaps both). 

Nobody gets married and vows to be with a person for life, while knowing in the back of their mind that they’re lying. For most people, marriage is sacred. It is something they only want to do one time with one person. Divorce is something that happens to those who don’t think things through, act on impulse, choose poorly, or are careless with others. It’s something that deserves sympathy, that people look at and think, “okay, how can I avoid doing that? I don’t want to be that person.”

But the truth is that divorce is, well… complicated. It isn’t good or bad; it is both and neither. 

For me, getting divorced is something I never in a million years thought I would do. Like, ever. It’s also something that I am continuing to process, over two years after separating from my ex, and after getting remarried. Being married again kind of feels like starting to read a new book before you finish the one you were reading before… but you were kind of over it, and this new book is pretty great, so it’s okay? And yet, the nagging feeling of knowing you didn’t finish reading that book is always there. (Or is that just me?)

Long story short, I haven’t finished processing my divorce even though I’m married to someone else now. Which is weird, but also kind of makes sense. I was with my ex-husband for 13 years, and married for ten. That is a long relationship to change so dramatically, and processing that is bound to take some time. For all I know, I’ll be processing it for the rest of my life. I mean, I hope not, but still. 

When I think about my divorce, I realize that there’s a difference for me in how it happened versus why it happened. If someone were to ask me why I got divorced, I would have to choose which version to give them. 

How it happened is that we became polyamorous, and through that I realized that my feelings for him were platonic. I fell in love with someone else, and my ex was not able to accept that person into our lives as fully or as quickly as I wanted him to. Even though we’d both agreed to be polyamorous, in practice it was a very exciting experience for me but a very unpleasant experience for him. Losing my romantic interest was painful for him (I think I can safely assume), while for me it was painful to be separated from my new love. These factors caused conflict between us and led to both of us pulling away from the relationship. It came to the point where we couldn’t find happiness while staying married. 

How it happened makes me look like the “bad guy,” and that perception has messed me up a lot emotionally. Because I know that I didn’t do anything wrong, but from a simplified perspective, it would seem that I left my husband for somebody else. It looks like I threw away my marriage for something new and exciting. That voice in my head tells me that I’m the villain. 

This is why I feel the need to frequently emphasize that I could have and would have stayed with my ex, if only he had been able to support my new relationship. Perhaps that doesn’t make sense to people who aren’t polyamorous, but it is what it is. I would have done the same for him. In fact, I was his biggest cheerleader in dating! I truly wanted him to find a person who could give him what I could not, so that we could stay married and both be happy and fulfilled. 

Why it happened is different, I’m beginning to realize.

As I mentioned, while I was falling in love he was going through emotional upheaval. I was changing and discovering a life of my own apart from him. Because I was changing, he needed to change too. In the end, we were two very different people who could have stayed married if we’d wanted to, but the reality is that we didn’t want to. 

I find it annoying that it sounds like a cliché that “we both changed” and “we grew apart.” Because it’s not just as simple as that. But at the same time, it kind of is. 

We are different people now. Throughout the 13 years we were a couple, we obviously changed a lot as well. I always believed we could change together, and that’s what we did for all of those years. But when everything was falling apart, we both were changing in ways that specifically and by necessity pulled us away from each other. We were becoming our own people, finally. And if I’m honest, all of me changed like midnight. The people we became didn’t make sense as a couple, and so we walked away. 

When we decided to divorce, it was extremely… uneventful. It was a calm, cool, and collected kind of conversation. No anger, so hurt feelings (at least that were expressed), certainly no yelling. We even had one last cuddle. 

Looking back at that always makes me sad. What we lost was something big, and amazing, and rare. All of a sudden, we realized it was already gone and we were holding onto nothing. But at the time, I wasn’t sad. How could I be sad? The people who had that amazing marriage no longer existed. I wasn’t her. So, I had nothing to mourn. 

After the processing I have done thus far, I have found reasons to mourn. I mourn for that person who I used to be, who had that amazing love story, who felt safe and secure and settled. I mourn for all the love we unraveled; we still care deeply for each other, but obviously the type of love has changed. I mourn for how easy it was to spend time together, how much I enjoyed being around him, and how I never got tired of being with him. I lost my best friend, not just my husband. 

It may sound superficial, but I also mourn for the life I gave away. We had built our dream house together, and I loved that house. I loved our neighborhood and our city. I loved the kids’ school, and I loved the rhythm of our lives. Leaving the place I loved, that felt like home, was hard for me. I had to mourn for that as well, and still do. 

It’s strange to think that people can change so much, that they can be the same person and yet not. It’s hard to know how to be around them. When you’re with a person who you have known for so long and been through so much with, and they start to become someone that you don’t recognize, it is extremely disconcerting. You miss that person, but how can you say that when they’re right there in front of you? It’s hard to process. 

Getting divorced when I thought I was above that was humbling. Now, being married again, I have to balance my cynicism with optimism. It would be naïve to say that it is impossible I would ever get divorced again—even though that is how I feel! I guess the difference now, and one of the biggest lessons I learned, was that I have the power to choose what happens in my marriage. 

Of course, I only have control over myself, which is only half of the equation. But the point is that I have the power. It isn’t fate, it’s a choice. I know that I chose to divorce my ex. I know that I could have chosen differently. I know that I do not want to choose that ever again. I also know that I might change my mind about that someday and feel tempted to leave—but even if that happens, I can still choose to stay. If my marriage is as sacred to me as I say it is, then I will choose that even on the days I feel differently. And I am determined to prove that it is.

I’m very lucky with how things have turned out. My ex-husband and now-husband get along really well, and I have a good relationship with my ex as well. There is no animosity. On my husband’s side of things, everything is harmonious with his ex-wife as well. The four of us make up a sort of co-parenting chain, and it feels nice. Our blended family has blended smoothly, and I am happy with that. 

So, the aftermath hasn’t been so bad, on the surface. Emotionally, though? That’s a different story. It just goes to show that nobody goes through divorce completely unscathed. We bear the scars, whether we like it or not. 

Divergent: Part Two

As I mentioned in my last post, the term “neurodivergent” is one that resonates with me, and that I identify with. I wrote about my thoughts on neurodiversity, and how I experience it in my own life. For me, ADHD is a label I have embraced as a way of better understanding myself and the way my brain works. 

Before I get into it, I want to reemphasize that I am not diagnosed with ADHD. I have no interest in being diagnosed, and I have no interest in seeking treatment. I also don’t have the classic presentation of ADHD that many people think of, which includes difficulty with focus and attention, and hyperactivity. Those traits are in the name (ADHD stands for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder); but personally, I don’t see those things in myself as clearly as they usually are in people diagnosed with ADHD. Instead, I have many other traits that have been identified as common symptoms of ADHD. 

I can identify at least 21 specific ways that ADHD affects me, and there are probably more that I haven’t learned about or recognized yet. I see these differences as more of strengths than weaknesses, or at the very least they’re things I would consider quirks and part of my personality, rather than detriments. 

The more I learn about it, the more I realize that so many of my life choices have been affected by my brain working in a different way. Realizing this has given me a more positive view of myself and my life choices, both of which have been misunderstood by others more than a few times. Even if people around me don’t always understand my choices, that doesn’t mean that they’re wrong. Thinking and seeing the world and life differently isn’t inherently bad. Being different isn’t bad—that’s the spirit of the term neurodivergent, after all. 

I work hard to be a person who makes the world better, not worse; someone who is competent, caring, and considerate. So even if I choose paths in life that seem foolish or crazy or strange to others, I know that I am smart and sane and kind, and that I’m making the best choices I can– for reasons that make sense to me and my life— and that’s all that matters.

So, with that out of the way, I can now get into the details of what ADHD looks like in my life, and how it affects me.      

First off, ADHD is most likely the reason I tend to be a quitter. I have a history of quitting things when they start to feel too hard or scary, or I lose interest– even if I know that those feelings are likely temporary, and that there are benefits to continuing the thing that I want to quit. 

This quitting tendency includes hobbies or activities that I briefly participated in, like dance club, martial arts, or cheerleading. It includes volunteering opportunities that I was excited about for a while, but then decided to stop. It includes jobs I have had, the shortest being for only a few months and the longest for just over a year. It includes career paths I’ve tried to follow and businesses I’ve tried to start. It includes relationships, such as friendships that become too difficult or are giving me anxiety. It even includes pets– but more about that later. 

Basically, if I don’t like doing something, I quit it. There are pros and cons to that characteristic, in my opinion. I think it’s a good thing that I feel free to follow my instincts and focus on doing things I enjoy in life. But, it also means that I sometimes give up on things before I really should, and then I end up wishing I hadn’t. 

Socially, ADHD causes additional challenges for me. I have a high level of rejection sensitivity, and a tendency to over-analyze and dwell on negative or awkward social interactions. I kid you not– I am still haunted by that one time 12 years ago when I excitedly told my pastor he had the same Tupperware as me, and he looked at me with patronizing disinterest. (Why am I so weird?) I also have difficulty making and maintaining friendships, in part because of that rejection sensitivity, and in part because of social anxiety and being an introvert. I am also extremely sensitive in general. My feelings can get hurt quite easily, and I tend to be very hard on myself when I make mistakes or do something wrong. 

ADHD can cause people to have a low frustration tolerance, which is one thing I can very much relate to. I get overly upset when frustrated by things that others may feel are minor setbacks. A big example is when I can’t find something that I need; I tend to get way more upset than seems reasonable, and I can’t seem to control it. And while I do feel that I have a lot of patience usually (which becomes very necessary when you have five kids), I can also have a short fuse when overstimulated, overwhelmed, stressed, or frustrated. Sensory overload is something I experience very frequently, especially with noise and messes/clutter. These stimuli often cause emotional dysregulation for me, usually manifesting in anger explosions or shutting down and withdrawing from others. 

I am aware that I have anger issues, and I have known this about myself for a long time; but only recently have I realized that these problems likely stem from ADHD. They are a result of my brain working differently, rather than just me being a bad person. That means I can find tools and techniques to adapt, which gives me hope! 

There are so many things I can do to improve my emotional regulation challenges that come with ADHD. I can plan ahead for potentially frustrating situations and make changes to set myself up for success. I can designate easy-to-remember places for things and be strict about putting them where they belong, so that they don’t get lost. I can use noise-dampening ear plugs when things are getting too loud. I can build small chunks of time to decompress into my daily routines. I can set aside time to tidy up the house before bed (but keep it reasonable, so I don’t end up staying up too late and missing more sleep). I can also actively remind myself that the goal is never perfection, but improvement. 

Focus and attention are the more well-known problems that people with ADHD struggle with, and on the surface it never seemed to me as if this described me. But I have learned that there are many ways that ADHD can affect a person’s focus, and they aren’t all as obvious as being easily distractible. For example, I find it very difficult to switch tasks before I’m finished with whatever I’m currently working on, and I often feel an unproportional level of frustration or anger when I’m forced to do so. 

Conversely, I’ll often find that I’ve moved on to a new task before finishing the current one, which can happen for a variety of reasons; either I did the main bulk of the task and subconsciously considered it done before actually finishing the final parts, or I got caught in a chain reaction. As an example, I could be going to do the laundry but the washer is full, and the dryer is also full, and the basket is also full, so I need to fold the clean laundry first. But as I’m working on that, I will notice that the linen closet needs to be organized before I can put the clean laundry away, and then I end up organizing and tidying up the surrounding area as well. Before I know it, I’m being called away to do an entirely different task by one of my family members, and the laundry remains unfinished. 

Another subtle way that difficulty focusing can show up for me is being prone to clumsiness or accidentally injuring myself. I have realized that this happens because my brain is already moving on to the next task before I’ve physically finished the previous one, which leads to rushing or not paying attention to what my body is doing. (Just for laughs, I will share that the day I started writing this post, I got a cardboard paper cut underneath my fingernail, and later while eating a hamburger I was able to somehow flick a crumb into my eye– which didn’t hurt, per se, but it also didn’t feel good.)

People with ADHD can often struggle with mental health conditions, such as depression and anxiety. The reasons for this aren’t completely understood, but the result can be someone like me who oscillates between having too much mental energy, and having too little. These two ends of the spectrum are essentially my very boiled-down descriptions of anxiety and depression. When I’m feeling anxious, I’m like a shark who needs to keep moving so I don’t die. When I’m feeling depressed, I’m like a sad panda who is just trying to get through the day. Both stages tend to come and go fairly rapidly for me, lasting anywhere between a few hours to a few months. It’s an emotional rollercoaster, and it’s quite possible that ADHD is what fuels the ride. 

Insomnia is a symptom of ADHD, anxiety, and depression, so it should come as no surprise that I struggle with it. Sometimes I just can’t fall asleep until 3 AM, even though I’m tired, because my brain won’t rest or it simply decides to malfunction and forget how to sleep. Other times I’m in the midst of a bout of depression, and staying up late into the night gives me some level of feeling in control and at peace, or at least time to ruminate on all of my swirling emotions. Fortunately, (I guess?) years of sleep deprivation as a mom have conditioned me well to function on little or poor sleep. 

The biggest way that ADHD affects me is my need for novelty in life. This is thought to be a dopamine-seeking behavior common in people with ADHD. It’s also tied into other characteristics like hyperfixations, boredom, and impulsivity. What it looks like in my life is a very strong drive for making changes—often, the bigger the better. Combine that with my proclivity for quitting, and my anxiety and depression, and what you get is quite a concoction. 

I have a history of moving fairly often. I love rearranging, buying new things, and starting new systems or habits. I love taking things that are messy and making them clean, neat, and organized; that kind of change is so evident and satisfying! I enjoy redefining and refreshing my perspectives in life. I loved when I had a polyamorous lifestyle, because it meant there was always something shiny and new in my life. New flirtations, crushes, first dates, first kisses—talk about an abundant source for those dopamine hits I crave so much!

It’s also quite possible that I love having babies so much because of the constant change that they bring. There’s always a new stage to move on to, a new milestone, or a new parenting challenge to defeat. Plus, the very act of caregiving can be dopamine-boosting.  

But, the most visible and obvious manifestation of my ADHD-fueled need for change is something that’s caused me to build quite a reputation… as a crazy pet person. The number of pets that have come and gone in my life, even just as an adult, is astounding. Not including family/childhood pets, I’ve had eleven dogs (three currently), ten cats not including the three foster kittens I didn’t adopt, (I have seven cats currently), seven guinea pigs (none currently), five bunnies (none currently), seven rodents (four currently), six birds (two currently), three horses (one currently), and countless fish (none currently or hopefully ever again). That’s over 40 pets in the past 13 years! 

Now, I do have 17 pets as of this post, but you may be wondering what happened to the other 23+ animals that were at some point in my care over the past decade. Well, all of the fish died despite my best efforts, and 12 of the other animals passed away from old age (one dog, three rodents), illness (two dogs, one cat, one guinea pig), or accident (three guinea pigs); my dog Macy had to be put to sleep for severe and unpredictable aggression issues. The remaining 12 pets I had were rehomed, for a variety of reasons. 

Personally, I don’t believe that rehoming pets is wrong, or a negative thing when done right. I’ve always ensured that my rehomed pets went to new owners who would meet or exceed the level of care I gave them—which was always very high. I’ve never had a pet who seemed traumatized by being rehomed; that is to say, the pets I rehomed didn’t seem to suffer emotionally from transitioning to new owners, and they all ended up arguably happier in their new homes. I’ve always checked in on them afterwards to ensure they transitioned well, and I’ve always told the new owners that I would take the animal back if they ever needed to rehome them again. Basically, all of that to say that I have taken rehoming seriously and done it responsibly and with care. To me, the possibility of needing or wanting to rehome an animal in the future doesn’t make me afraid of adopting new pets, because I know there’s a net positive even when that happens. 

And yet, the constant change in my pet-life has been, at times, problematic. It caused a great deal of conflict with my ex-husband, and his lack of understanding and support for my choices when it came to pets was actually one of the “last straw” reasons for ending our marriage, as crazy as that sounds. I began to feel like a child who had to convince my “parent” that I was responsible enough for a new pet. I wanted to feel like an adult, who can be trusted to make my own life choices, for better or for worse. Not to mention that I wanted to feel like an equal partner, whose feelings and desires mattered just as much as my husband’s mattered to me. 

With my husband now, it has also caused conflict on numerous occasions. My pet obsession has been something that RJ, for the most post, understands, supports, and to some degree even shares with me. But, his biggest form of neurodivergence is arguably anxiety (although ADHD is a very close second, in my opinion). So at times, the idea of adding another pet or rehoming one has triggered an extremely unpleasant reaction in him, and caused some emotionally traumatic fights for us. Some of our fights about pets have left me feeling as if I have ended up in the same dynamic that I was in with my ex– the main thing I was trying to escape! Which of course, has been disheartening. Fortunately, we are actively working on these issues and have made great progress.

Even aside from the pet thing, I’ve observed that with both Cory and RJ, my need for novelty and my struggle with depression and anxiety has at times been misinterpreted as dissatisfaction with my life, or with my partner. 

I’ve been accused of “always wanting more” and “never being satisfied.” I’ve been told that I should work on myself to learn how to be content. I’ve been accused of steamrolling and manipulating my partner into decisions they don’t want. I’ve been told that I’m not “compatible” with my partner because I want things that they don’t. I’ve been told that nothing is ever enough for me. These are words that have wounded me deeply, and will take years to heal from. 

But, the truth that I often have to remind myself of is that I am not broken. I am not too much. I add far more positive things to the lives of my loved ones than negative ones. I am a good partner. I’m thoughtful and loving and empathetic—and imperfect. And that’s okay. 

So, yes. ADHD may have negative effects in my life. But I also recognize that many of the struggles I have are only struggles because society says they’re bad. Being a “quitter” is seen as a bad thing, but it also could be reframed as being adept at letting go of things that no longer serve me. Being someone who constantly seeks novelty and change could be seen as being impulsive and careless–or, it could be reframed as being adventurous and adaptable. 

Aside from the differences I’ve already described, ADHD also gives me more obvious strengths and advantages. I can hyper-focus on tasks, getting a ton done in relatively little time without running out of steam. When I procrastinate, I almost always do it productively; in other words, I may not always do the tasks I need to as soon as I should (hello, mountain of laundry), but at least I will be doing something productive (like reorganizing the pantry). 

My food fixations (common with ADHD) make things simple when it comes to meal-planning. As long as I have my 3-4 staple foods (whatever they may be at the time), I’m good to go. Variety isn’t really necessary for me, in the food department, so I’m easy to feed.   

One interesting aspect of ADHD is that it can cause caffeine to affect people differently. So, rather than wiring me, coffee actually helps me feel calm and improves my ability to sleep at night. This means I can drink a delicious latte every night before bed, if I so choose! Fortunately, coffee still gives me a much-needed energy boost in the morning, which means I also get to start my day with a routine that I look forward to. 

Another interesting and benign effect of ADHD is that I am prone to (harmless) binges and obsessions; this has given me a wide variety of specific knowledge, but also it’s just fun. If I can find great joy in baking ten dozen cookies in a day, then why not? It’s the simple things in life.

As with many people who have ADHD, I’m level-headed in crisis. I tend to be more calm and confident when I’m thrown into chaos, which is a great advantage when you have five kids and 17 pets. 

While having insomnia is a challenge, and I’d really like to be able to sleep when I need to, the other side of that coin is that I’m naturally a night owl (like many other people with ADHD). I like staying up late, and I can get so much done after everyone else is in bed. Often, the time I have at night is the only time I have to get chores done without constant interruptions, and if I’m lucky sometimes even a little bit of time to do things I enjoy, like writing. 

Last but not least, my need for novelty means that I’m good with change—in fact, I crave it! This can be seen as an advantage considering that life is full of changes. Most people fear them, but not me! It also means that life with me is never dull.

Ultimately, whether ADHD is considered a negative or a positive largely depends on one’s perspective. I feel that these things are all just part of who I am, and while some of them can be challenging at times, overall I do believe that they aren’t problems that need to be fixed. The world is not built for neurodivergent people, but that doesn’t mean that we need fixing. I think we can all agree that the world is very much in need of fixing.

And so, I’m going to keep being me–the gloriously chaotic, go-with-the-flow, productive, interesting, ever-changing phoenix that I am. 

Divergent: Part One

Sometimes, being different is a good thing. Differences are what make people and life so interesting, and allow us to learn and grow.

It was a couple of years ago that I first heard the term “neurodivergent.” My introduction to the term was through reading a trilogy of books called The Rosie Project, The Rosie Effect, and The Rosie Result, which feature an autistic main character. The story explores the topic of neurodivergence with a humorous and heartfelt approach. After I read those books, I started hearing the word “neurodivergent” in popular culture more and more. If you didn’t already know, this is a thing now. (In all fairness, neurodivergence had actually been a thing presumably since humans came into existence, and the term was coined decades ago, but the awareness of it is now becoming more mainstream).

A great summary of what this term is all about is the following excerpt from the Verywell Mind article, “What Does It Mean to Be Neurodivergent?”

Neurodivergence is the term for when someone’s brain processes, learns, and/or behaves differently from what is considered ‘typical.’

Formerly considered a problem or abnormal, scientists now understand that neurodivergence isn’t inherently an issue for the individual and that it has a large societal benefit. Not all presentations of neurodivergence are a disability, like synesthesia, but all are a difference in how the brain works.

With this shift, practitioners are no longer treating neurodivergence as inherently an illness. They are instead viewing them as different methods of learning and processing information, some of which become disabilities in an inaccessible and ableist society.

Resnick

“Neurodivergent,” in a nutshell, describes anyone whose mind works differently than what is considered “normal.” Of course, what is considered normal can vary across cultures and change with time. Like most labels, “neurodivergent” is a term that can be used in many different ways and for many different types of people. 

Most narrowly and originally, “neurodivergent” was used as an alternative or complementary term for people with autism. But more commonly and in recent years, the term has been used to describe people not only with autism spectrum disorder, but also people with ADHD, dyslexia, Down syndrome, Tourette’s, OCD, bipolar disorder, and many more mental conditions. 

Whether one has an official diagnosis or not has also become less important when using this term. Remember, neurodivergence is not a medical term or a legally protected term–it’s a social term, and its use has changed and expanded over time. 

An article from the Child Mind Institute explains:

“The term used to be used to describe people who either had a clinical diagnosis or were borderline, with symptoms that are near the clinical threshold for a diagnosis,” she explains. “More recently, what I’ve seen is broadening to include anybody who identifies with it. People who feel that they think or process outside of the box.”

Miller

Even with a diagnosis for something like autism or ADHD, every neurodivergent individual experiences life and the world uniquely. No two neurodivergent people are exactly the same–just as no two neurotypical people are exactly the same! We are all different in ways both big and small. 

As an article from BetterUp says:

The number of different ways a human brain can be wired is almost infinite. Diagnoses simply provide us with a kind of verbal shorthand. It’s a convenient way to refer to a specific set of symptoms or experiences that commonly occur together. Even within a diagnosis, two people’s experiences can range widely.

Cooks-Campbell

Considering that no two minds work exactly alike, using the term neurodivergent is becoming more and more a personal choice. For example, most loosely, neurodivergence can also encompass many other mental differences and conditions, including generalized anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, sensory processing disorders, and learning differences. 

And, while it has been used most often as an umbrella term for disorders, a mental difference doesn’t have to be a disorder to be considered neurodivergent. Things like non-heterosexuality, having a non-cisgender identity, synesthesia, being an empath, introversion, and possibly many more differences that could describe the mental workings of an individual, could all be considered neurodivergent. 

While mental illnesses and the non-disorder differences I listed may not be generally or popularly accepted forms of neurodiversity, I personally would advocate for this wider and more inclusive use of the term. Because ultimately, claiming that label for oneself is a personal choice. I know that not everyone likes labels, but for me, they add clarity and can be empowering! That is why I am proud to call myself neurodivergent.  

I believe that increasing awareness and reducing stigmatism of both neurodiversity and mental illness go hand in hand. The more we can understand ourselves and how our brains work, the better lives we can live. And the more we can understand others and how their brains work in ways that are both similar to and different than ours, the better we can make our world for everyone. Mental disorders can be a part of one’s identity, and that doesn’t have to be a negative thing. They can add strengths, as well as weaknesses, to one’s life.

That being said, it is important not to use the term to downplay the struggles of those with mental disorders. Some types of neurodivergency are not just differences, but disabilities. Those disabilities may be partially a result of living in an ableist society which is not designed for those who are different; but, they also can be innate, and debilitating in and of themselves. Seeking diagnosis and treatment can have great value for many, many people. I am not advocating for simply accepting the struggles that come with being different! I am only advocating for recognizing that being different isn’t always bad, and can in fact be a good thing in many cases, or at least in some ways.

So, with all of that explaining out of the way, I wanted to share a bit about my personal differences, or neurodiversity. 

I am neurodivergent in six ways that I know of right now. For me, these differences add both strengths and weaknesses to my day-to-day life. I use this label to encompass my ADHD, anxiety, and depression–the golden trifecta, as I jokingly think of it. I’m also an introvert and an empath, and I’m pansexual and polyamorous by nature. All of these labels are ones that I embrace because they are part of who I am, and they are ways that my mind works uniquely. They each come with drawbacks as well as advantages.

At first thought, I struggled to see a way that depression could add anything positive to a person’s life or to the world. But then I realized that empathy is a strength I can attribute, at least partially, to my depression-susceptible mind. My experiences with depression have allowed me to develop deeper empathy for the suffering of others, and an ability to think more profoundly about life. It’s even possible that my struggle with depression caused me to develop my empathic nature.

Depression shows up in my life as feeling down, sad, unmotivated, and just “over” life. It also brings feelings of guilt and inadequacy–especially mom-guilt. It makes me feel that I’m not enough, and that no matter what I do it will be wrong. It makes me lose interest in things I used to enjoy. It gives me insomnia. It makes me want to isolate myself socially (although that is also just part of being an introvert, and having social anxiety). And of course, the worst part of depression for me is suicidal ideation. It can take very little for me to spiral into not wanting to be alive anymore. So, those are the not-so-fun things to deal with. 

Depression is the label that I have used the longest. I have known that I struggle with depression since I was a teenager, although it wasn’t until further into my adulthood that I consciously accepted it. I would say depression is my second biggest form of neurodivergence. It is a disorder that I, personally, have chosen to seek treatment for. 

Although I also have anxiety, I struggle with it the least. For me, it shows up as restlessness, insomnia, feelings of dread, feeling the need to escape situations, excessive worrying about everyday things, muscle tension and headaches, and repetitive/racing thoughts. I also have a touch of social anxiety, but that’s pretty tangled up with introversion, depression, and ADHD. On a side note, I also have migraines, and it can be hard to distinguish my tension headaches from migraines, unless I have an aura or nausea, which indicate a migraine.

The ”positive” side of anxiety for me is that, in a strange way, it energizes me. The feeling of restlessness shows up as needing to be doing something productive, helping someone, or taking care of others. I get hits of dopamine through these activities, which seems to counteract my anxiety somewhat.

Another aspect of my neurodivergence is being an introvert. As I said earlier, some people count it and others don’t–but it doesn’t really matter what other people think. For me, I feel that it’s something that makes me different than what is considered “normal,” so it fits. My introversion shows up in a few different ways, some of which are similar to mild autism spectrum disorder. 

I have difficulty making eye contact and difficulty initiating or maintaining conversations. I have a very small social circle. I’m almost always happier at home (or in my home-away-from-home, aka Eleanor, my travel trailer). I don’t like meeting new people or being in crowds. I am a quiet person, in general, although when I’m comfortable with people I come out of my shell. Personally, I don’t see introversion as a weakness at all. It’s something that I like about myself. I’m never too busy talking to be a good listener, and that goes really well with my empathic nature. I have learned to be confident and comfortable in my own skin without needing to be loud about it. 

Being an empath is hands-down my favorite area of neurodivergence. What it means is that I am very highly attuned to the emotions of others, especially those I’m close to. It allows me to show compassion for others beyond what is probably considered common. I can tell when something is off with someone, and I have a powerful intuition. This makes me an excellent care-taker, partner, mother, and friend. It also means that I have a tendency to absorb the emotional energy of the people around me, which can be a big challenge. This is something that I have to be aware of and consciously reframe my thinking around all of the time. Taking responsibility for other people’s emotional states is not healthy, and can happen very easily–so I have to be careful and cognizant. 

Being pansexual and polyamorous wouldn’t be considered neurodivergent by most people (based on my research), but I believe that sexuality and gender identity are part of the way a person’s mind works. I believe they are ingrained, present at birth, and originating in the brain–and being non-cisgender and/or non-heterosexual is, by definition, “different” than the norm. (It’s called heteronormative, after all). Thus, I include it. My sexual identity is basically irrelevant to my daily life, because I am in a monogamous heterosexual relationship that I’m committed to for life. Nevertheless, I feel that it’s an important part of my identity. 

Out of all of my neurodivergent “labels,” ADHD resonates the most. I have many behaviors that can be associated with ADHD, including anxiety and depression themselves. It is not uncommon for all three to go together, with ADHD as the underlying root cause.

ADHD is a label that I only very recently embraced. I am not diagnosed, and I have no interest in seeking a diagnosis or treatment for it. This is my personal choice. I never felt that I had ADHD until I learned more about it over the past year. I learned about ways that ADHD shows up in people’s lives and behaviors, beyond the basic definition of having difficulty paying attention and hyperactivity. Realizing that there is a huge range of ADHD far beyond that small-box definition allowed me to see just how much I am affected by it. 

It’s such a big topic for me that I decided to write a whole separate post about it! That will be coming soon, so stay tuned. 

References:

What Does It Mean to Be Neurodivergent? By Ariane Resnick, CNC

https://www.verywellmind.com/what-is-neurodivergence-and-what-does-it-mean-to-be-neurodivergent-5196627

What Is Neurodiversity? By Caroline Miller

https://childmind.org/article/what-is-neurodiversity/

Types of Neurodiversity: Understanding How People See The World, By Allaya Cooks-Campbell

https://www.betterup.com/blog/types-of-neurodiversity

The Male Maturity Continuum

In this day and age, the bar has been raised for men when it comes to maturity. I don’t mean maturity in terms of outdated gender-stereotyped characteristics. Men of today are beginning to be held to a higher standard, and judged when they don’t meet it. Being “manly” no longer means acting tough, masking vulnerability, making displays of strength, or being catered to by others (especially women). Instead, men today are expected to be emotionally intelligent, competent at household chores, capable caregivers, responsible, and kind.

The changing expectations of men are revealing more and more of a creature popularly known as the “man-child.” Because we now expect more of men, it seems we are discovering that many men are in fact not fully grown to maturity in a number of ways. They are, sadly, stuck in a child-like stage of development. 

My theory is that there are in fact three general stages of male maturity, and the man-child is unfortunately not the worst of them. While grown-ass men are the gold standard of what we can hope for, there are still a frighteningly large number of men who fall far below that standard. Sometimes, man-child is not accurate—enter, the man-baby. 

Man-baby, man-child, and grown-ass man have several very important distinctions. Let’s dive in, shall we?

Areas of comparison will include emotional maturity, contribution to the home and childcare when applicable, conflict resolution skills, and overall competence in life. 

Man-baby is the bottom of the barrel when it comes to all of these areas. First of all, he doesn’t understand feelings. He either thinks they are silly and beneath him, pretending to have none whatsoever, or he believes that his feelings are of the utmost importance above the feelings of all others. When man-baby is upset, he throws tantrums. Sometimes, these tantrums can be silent, but don’t be mistaken. Refusing to communicate feelings is man-baby behavior, and giving the silent treatment is arguably no better than a full blown tantrum with shouting, crying, making threats, using unkind words, and maybe even throwing things. 

Man-child is more mature with his feelings than man-baby, but he still hasn’t reached his full potential. He may have smaller tantrums, or shorter-lived periods of giving the silent treatment. But man-child is different, because he catches himself in these moments of weakness (which most of us have from time to time—nobody is perfect!), and he course-corrects. Man-child is working on himself, and learning to be better.

Grown-ass man isn’t perfect either, of course. But he is emotionally mature and self-aware enough that he doesn’t fall into child-like behaviors during times of emotional stress. He uses healthy coping strategies and good communication, and he genuinely considers and cares about the feelings of others. 

Contribution to household chores and childcare, when applicable, is possibly the easiest area to spot the differences between the man-baby, man-child, and grown-ass man. Man-baby does not do chores—it is as simple as that. If asked to do a chore, in fact, he will be offended and liable to throw a tantrum. He will mansplain why he shouldn’t be expected to cook or clean or manage the home in any way, because he works outside of the home. He doesn’t understand that work inside the home is just as taxing, and often requires more time and energy. If he has a partner who works outside the home as well, he seems to disregard that and insist that household chores are “women’s work.” He is entitled, spoiled, and often ungrateful for his partner’s contributions. 

When it comes to childcare, man-baby is of no use. He is a baby himself, so he could not and should not be expected to care for children with any level of competence. Not only would he be unwilling to do so, but even if he were, it would not be a safe situation for the child. He would likely get distracted by video games, decide to take a nap, or otherwise neglect to care for the basic needs and safety of any child in his care. 

Man-child is a big improvement over man-baby when it comes to sharing a home. He doesn’t do chores on his own; that would require taking independent and equal responsibility for home management, which he still doesn’t do. But, when asked, man-child will usually help. He may at times have a bit of an attitude about it; he may complain that he’s tired, or sigh and groan, or simply “forget” to do what he’s been asked. Still, he is willing to help out, and that is better than nothing. 

He also is willing to help out with the children when necessary. He will babysit, step in to discipline at times, and be a present and significant part of special family moments. He doesn’t usually complain about these duties, because he knows that he chose to become a father and that these tasks come with the territory. Like all parents, of course, he does get worn out and understands that parenting is often times exhausting—but his understanding of this exhaustion is nowhere near as deep as his partner’s, since they are still the one handling the brunt of the childcare duties. 

Grown-ass man is once again the higher standard here. He doesn’t wait for his partner to ask him to “help” with chores. He doesn’t see it as “helping” at all, because he knows that he is equally responsibly for household chores. He is simply doing his part, and he doesn’t need to be managed by his partner like a child needs to be managed by their parent. Grown-ass man takes an enormous burden from his partner—not just the burden of doing endless chores, but the mental burden of single-handedly managing a home.

As a father, grown-ass man is an equal partner. He may or may not be the primary caregiver during the workday, depending on whether his partner works and what their family dynamic is, but in any case he is still a primary caregiver to his children because he is a fully invested parent. If he works outside of the home (figuratively or literally), he doesn’t finish work and then expect a “break” before assuming childcare duties. He knows that parenting is a full-time job, and he jumps right in. He is equally competent with his partner at all parenting responsibilities. He changes diapers without a second thought, kisses boo-boos, and talks about feelings with his kids. Grown-ass man is not just a glorified sperm donor like man-baby, or a babysitter like man-child. Grown-ass man is Dad. 

In conflict resolution, man-baby is pathetic. He doesn’t listen to other’s points of view or give them any consideration. He doesn’t communicate clearly, or sometimes at all. He believes it should be his way or the highway. Nobody wants to be stuck in a relationship with man-baby. 

Man-child is an improvement. He can still be often unreasonable and insensitive, and his communication skills are frequently lacking. But, he is once again learning. He realizes his mistakes (with help, sometimes), and he is capable of apologizing and trying to do better next time. When he has a problem that he would like his partner to address, he is able to bring it up in a way that is sensitive and constructive—eventually. His first attempts might be less than ideal.

Grown-ass man is a great communicator, empathetic, and open-minded. He doesn’t insist on his own way with things, and he truly cares more about his relationships than his process. He apologizes when he makes mistakes, and he advocates for himself in ways that are both assertive and kind. When his partner has a concern, he fully invests himself into his role of supporting them in whatever way is needed. 

Lastly, we can compare the men on this continuum in terms of their general competence in life. 

It comes as no surprise that man-baby is severely incompetent. Not only is he unwilling to contribute to the care of others, but he is incapable of even caring for himself. He expects others to do everything for him, and he doesn’t know the first thing about basic life skills. 

Of course, man-child isn’t as far from the mark as that. He possesses some life skills, especially in areas where he has been taught by others. Any skills that have been required of him for his job or basic functioning in life are present and in good working order. Skills that he hasn’t been required to learn, however, are lacking. He doesn’t take initiative to learn new things, or improve himself. And, even in areas where he is competent, he would rather let others do things for him when possible. 

Grown-ass man goes out of his way to learn new things, improve his competence, and become a more well-rounded person. He is good at many things, and not just things perceived as “masculine” activities. He knows how to handle himself in life, from his career to his finances to his relationships and beyond. He is a fully-functional adult. 

Now, while these stages of development are fairly easy to distinguish between, it is important to note that most men don’t fall into only one stage. Men can have times where they regress to man-baby and times when they act like the grown-ass men they biologically are. They can also have some areas in which they are total man-babies, but other areas where they are remarkably grown-ass.

And, to be fair, this spectrum of maturity is not limited to men. Women and non-binary people all have varying levels of maturity in various areas of their lives. It’s just fun to point out these challenges in men because, well, in our highly patriarchal society, men have so many unfair advantages and are often given so much more slack than women are that it can be therapeutic in a way to take them down a peg. Basically, as a woman, I am expected to be fully-grown as a general rule—yet men are often not treated this same way. It’s time to call out the man-babies and man-children. It’s time to ask for better. 

If you are a grown-ass man, then I know you know that you don’t deserve a gold medal for this. But even so, I do want to thank you. Because you are exhibiting a new, higher standard for men everywhere, and the more of you that are out there, the less we will have to put up with the men who aren’t meeting that standard. So thanks, and keep up the good work!  

If you are a man-baby, I don’t think you will have read this. You may not even know how to read. And if you do, I suspect, you find it to be a boring or unmanly activity. But if by some miracle you have read this, I know it is highly likely you are now extremely offended and probably defensive. But the truth is, you have nobody to blame but yourself. Just stop being a man-baby and act your age, alright? You’ll do a lot better in life that way.

Lastly, if you are a man-child, I want to congratulate you on progressing past infancy, and encourage you to continue your journey into maturity. Keep improving. It’s time to finish growing up! You can do it. 

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