Here’s me describing what happens with me during an average conversation, and how I’ve tried to deal with it so-far —
This is to convey the effects –
not the literal process.
I don’t literally see these figures or
literally hear these voices:
1.
I have my conscious thought that guides my part of the conversation, and listens to the other person/people. That’s just me, the big hairy they sitting across from you at the table.
2.
Then there’s Depression.
Picture a tiny human on my shoulder that’s always telling me I’m making the point wrong. I’m constantly miscommunicating. I’m making enemies. Nobody likes or is going to understand what I’m saying.
It can’t be silenced, but I have learned to recognize it as it comes up and a lot of the time can dismiss it and keep moving on. But it takes a constant effort and vigilance, as Depression is always talking, which can be exhausting.
Some days it’s louder, some days it’s softer, and every day I have to figure out how loud it’s going to be so I can prepare for it.
3.
PTSD is the low-key friend on the couch these days – after all my self-work – but he’s still always tracking everything, like the loudness of the room, any flashing lights, unexpected movements, or peoples proximity to me.
It constantly pings in with updates, like notifications on your phone, and there is no silent mode unless I’m alone or with a small group of people.
It only gets loud when something happens that it didn’t catch – like when someone hugs me from behind. Then it turns up hard.
4.
ADHD is a lil colorful parrot on the back of my neck that constantly pops up over the top of my head to say
“HEY, WHAT YOU JUST SAID OR THEY JUST SAID OR THAT THING THAT HAPPENED IN THE CORNER OF MY EYE – YOU KNOW WHAT THAT’S KINDA SIMILAR TO? LET’S TALK ABOUT IT.”
It always has something in the chamber, and it constantly asserts itself hard.
It’s like a toddler pulling on its parent’s pant leg begging for attention, but (without medication) I can’t address the child or get it to stop.
I can ignore it, and get myself back on track when I get pulled off, but that takes a lot of effort and focus because the child is always calling louder the more activated in a conversation I become.
And sometimes it comes up with some really fun and good ideas. Sometimes. But often it’s just tangential.
5.
cPTSD is a tall, looming figure that stands behind me, telling me I’m acting up and none of what I’m saying matters in the first place and has never mattered.
Why would I even think anyone cared?
Over time, through therapy and self work, for 20+ years, I’ve really mitigated that last voice to the point where it’s almost nonexistent and only comes up on my worst mental health days when I’m worn out to the point that everything else isn’t manageable. But those days are extremely rare, especially compared to when I was young and the cPTSD was developing.
And all these voices influence each other. If my PTSD gets activated, the rest become hard to manage. If I wake up and my depression is active, addressing it can pull focus from everything else – and my ADHD can make the process of processing depression exponentially more difficult –hence – why I am so happy these ADHD meds are working.
It becomes a whole feedback loop real fast.
Over the years,
before I even had diagnoses for these,
I was developing ways to try and mitigate all this:
1.
I have to slow myself down, and speak slowly and measured or else these proverbial “voices” get excited and my conscious thought gets overtaken by all these things (which is unhelpful to anyone, and leads to me having to take significant time and effort after to get myself back to being leveled-out … and Corporate America has never given time for that).
For reference: When I was younger it could take weeks. Now, I can usually knock it out in a few hours (because I know what those parts of myself sound like, and I have a good grip on how they present themselves).
2.
For ADHD, I developed a bunch of reminder-tasks to get me back on track – like crossing my fingers when I get a side-thought while talking, so I can remember I had another point to bring up (because bringing it up would derail the current conversation, and I’d forget the original point – and if I didn’t cross my fingers, I’d lose the side-thought).
The medication so far has also been very helpful, but I’m also under the usual starting dose so it’s not perfect but significantly better. My reason for wanting a low dose is because, sometimes, it can be habit forming and addictive, so I’m being overly cautious.
3.
Writing it down, like this, helps me sort through what thoughts belong to what part of my brain. And I share them because these are hard lessons I learned, and if anyone I know can be helped, it’s worth it.
4.
Self-study to come to this point, with contextualizing issues in my brain vs. my mind, has been the above-and-beyond most helpful process I have done. As has the understand that these parts of myself are, at the same time, not separate from me but a piece of a very normal whole.
Like, the “voices” are not actual things I hear as I talk. They’re just dysfunctional parts of my brain – parts that everyone has – that function abnormally and derail my thoughts in different ways.
Putting them in the context of separate characters has been extremely helpful at recognizing these parts of my brain’s influence as they start to come up, so I can be functional as a person.
And it is can be exhausting, but following these processes are far better than what happens when I don’t.
So, yeah!
If you read this far: I hope you are doing as well as you can be, and thank you for even taking a minute or two to read all this and be with me on it 💖
—david loret de mola
Flommist David Loret de Mola is a Grand Slam Poetry Champion of Sacramento with Sac Unified Slam Team and Zero Forbidden Goals who has represented the City of Sacramento in the National Poetry Slam, and 100 Thousand Poets for Change in Salerno, Italy. Copyright © 2024 David Loret de Mola. Images: Works by Edgar Degas (detail), source.
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