getting better.

to deal with mental health issues, you need to challenge yourself. you need to push through your anxiety and do the thing that scares you. you need to get up and do things, even if you're so depressed it all seems pointless. it'll be easier and less scary next time. maybe.

a sick brain needs to be stretched towards health.

what about a neurodivergent brain?

well, just doing the hard thing doesn't work. a thousand empty promises to be better, to try harder, made to get out of the office of every head teacher I've had? nothing. I don't know how to be "better", I just know I'm not good enough.

acceptance works better. if I accept the way I am, I can tinker around the edges. I can stick to one bag, attach my keys, oyster card and pen to it. I'm no "better", but as long as I have that bag I can communicate in an emergency and don't have to stress about lost keys. if I can learn what foods are still likely to be edible when my senses go apeshit, I have an option that isn't Live On Coke And Hope You Don't Break for conferences.

but that doesn't fix the big things. the things I don't want to accept.

living alone & unemployed, I would literally starve to death because I'd forget to feed myself. I don't have an eating disorder, there isn't an underlying drive to gain control or lose weight, I just won't reliably eat without being prompted.

I can't imagine ever getting a job. so much of that process is outside my control, and there will always be someone better. every tiny step in the application process is terrifying. just fill out the form and send us your CV that has nothing on it. write a cover letter that convinces us you're the best person for the job when you've got literally nothing to offer.

just pushing through the fear doesn't fix it. I'm not just scared, I'm confused. I don't know how to be better, I just know I'm not good enough. but accepting it is too much. accepting that I'm never going to get a job, while accepting that it's not safe to move out unless I have a job, means never moving out of my parent's house. never having a life where I can shut the door on my mum's endless chatter on the latest thing I wish she'd shut up about. never spending more than 1 night with my girlfriend. never having kids.

I can almost see them. my babies. I've wanted them longer than I can remember and was prepared for their inevitably wonky brains since before puberty. they don't exist, they might never exist, but I love them anyway.

I don't want to die, but I don't see a way forward.

I'm not a unicorn, I'm a werewolf.

in the fifth elephant, Angua tells Carrot the wolves don't trust her. he's surprised, he assumes they see her as a wolf. she explains that she can pass for a human among humans, or as a wolf among humans, but not with wolves. she looks like a human, or she looks like a wolf, but she always smells like a werewolf.

I am a werewolf.

I mention my girlfriend, and straight people see a gay wolf, draped in rainbows & howling at the moon.

...or I don't say anything. I'm femme, or sometimes too lazy to have a style, but never butch. I only look queer if you really know what you're looking for. so, they see a straight human.

I am werewolf. hear me howl.

I'm never gay enough for the wolves, though. at a gay club or at pride, it's "are you a real lesbian?" (no. not a fake one either. HOWOOOOO!) or "what the fuck is that?" (you what?! I'm not a "that". I'm not much of a "fuck" either...).

...or maybe I come out as Autistic. that one's more subtle. allistics generally refuse to see that one while I'm holding it together. I'm in allistic human form, until I'm not. then I'm all wolf, incapable of understanding, dangerous to myself and others.

I haven't found my place in that wolf pack either. I try, but every group has the same thing. a few days after I find that facebook group that I hoped would fit, there is some dude who wants a girlfriend but has no idea that she is not a trophy. she's a Real Human Being (or wolf. or werewolf.) who wants to develop a reciprocal relationship. his moaning about everyone he's ever met being "ablest" by refusing to give him a chance? that's showing her she can't get that here so she moves on. even worse, the "how DARE you call it a disability!?" crowd. what, you don't want to talk about the difficult parts? you want to throw away the meagre support available to us? and you want to shut down all conversations on that because you're offended by the word "disability"? wow. a few more like that and I move on. this isn't the place for the big conversations. I can't crowdsource coping strategies for executive functioning, or build a realistic plan for the future in this cesspit.

so I run with the werewolves. neurodivergent purple werewolves under glittering stars. I am werewolf, hear me howl.