--[Please excuse the bad grammar, anger, jumpy structure, and stereotypes. I wrote this nearly a decade ago as a partially tongue-in-cheek rant on social media after "one of those days." It was well before I was officially diagnosed as ADHD, SPD, and OPD. Basically, I was a mess and when I'm a mess my writing is absolute shite, but I find it entertaining nonetheless and figure someone out there might be able to relate to the angry 24-year old me that wrote it. - CMS 11.05.2018]--
Being an ADHD OCD perfectionist is exhausting. A day in my brain living my life is like living in a busy arcade playing a never-ending half-broken whack-a-mole game.
Let's explore that...
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This is literally an image of what my brain feels like most days.
Well done pixabay.com.
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In this half-broken nightmare of plastic animal abuser-y, you can't just tap on the moles to make them go away....no no...you need to thwack the shit out of them multiple times until you are satisfied said mole will not pop up again.
And so it begins, you are thwacking the crap out of the first mole that pops up...But wait! Another mole popped up before you are done whacking the first one! Now you must divi up your whacking effort between the two until you are satisfied that both are gone. No big deal right? Multi-tasking...we are good at multi-tasking...
FUCK! Another mole has popped up...and the one you were almost done with is now hiding...but he's still on your mind because you were so close to being done...So now your attention must be split between thwacking the shit out of the new one and the second one while keeping an eye out for the first one...You must thwack these moles equally before you can let one slide. Because letting one slide is not perfection, and anything other than perfection is failure.
We are in the zone... things are going perfectly...all moles are being equally and perfectly thwacked...
BUT HOLD THE PHONE!! Now there is a fourth fucking mole...and not just any mole, he's a SPARKLY mole that is worth twice the points and will take twice the effort to be thwacked to your standards... So do you drop focus from a different mole to take on sparkly mole?
Psssh... this is ADD OCD perfectionist whack-a-mole player we are talking about. EVERYTHING on our radar must and will be done perfectly.
So we chuck the stupid plastic hammer, jump up onto the deck of the machine and start kicking and stomping each mole into submission.
We are kicking ass at it. But if we are doing so well, doesn't that mean we should be able to do more? Now that we are on top of the machine we can see that we are now within arms reach of our favorite game "Duck Hunt"...and it's letting people play for free....and it's on the final level that we never beat...
Well shit, if it's free...
We grab the gun and start shooting, and stomping, and kicking until we are in a chaotic whirl of random angry body flailing movements.
And that's when our favorite people in the world come up to watch us play. Isn't that nice? They haven't seen us in forever, and are leaving in less than a minute. We must talk to them now or not see them for another year...
Well shit... that puts us in a bind, doesn't it? Well.....we know where this goes...
We are now reminiscing, shooting, kicking, stomping, and flailing.....We have a decent pattern going, very much like twirling plates on a stick while patting our head and rubbing our tummy... We are feeling pretty cocky and good about being so damned perfect at it, to be honest...
Then...Out of nowhere someone dressed as a surgeon comes up and socks us in the stomach, the shoulders, and the nose. LAME. We lose rhythm momentarily, but we still function decently.
But that's not all, this dipshit is now shooting us up with narcotics...
Okay....alright...well.....
THUD.
We slip and land squarely on our face in the middle of the dirty floor. Everyone watches us expectantly and all the games still go whirring on, lights start flashing saying "one life left" "one minute left" "one bullet left" "GO GO GO!" Our favorite people are starting to walk away... And the doctor is still shooting us up and telling us we are stupid...
So what do we do... we take one big deep breath (cause seriously...that's all we should need) and jump right back up, not quite as coordinated as we were before, but we are still able to hold on to some of our progress...
And in this half drugged, half broken, entirely exhausted state, we hear over the gargled speakers that if we stop the arcade will blow up.
Yay.
Yeah. that's pretty much what it feels like to be me.“
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