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ADHD Journey Finance Tips, Tricks, and Tangents This N' That

The Big Bad B-Word

(I bet it’s not the B-word you think it is)

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Image by Anemone123 from Pixabay

The B-Word (She’s a G.D.B.)

Things have not gone well this year, and I am considering bankruptcy.

That’s BANKRUPTCY.

How did I end up here?

To keep it short and to ignore all the little compounding factors:

  1. I bought a house in 2023 that needed repairs, so I took on several projects. 
  2. I left my full-time job in December of 2024, for reasons that I still think are valid, though of course I have been experiencing plenty of doubt about that.
  3. I have not yet replaced the income from that job.
  4. I had a baby in March of 2025.

When I look at the list of bills which haven’t been paid in months, and which include the mortgage, car payments, car insurance and more, I don’t see a way out.

I’m considering bankruptcy with the thinking that perhaps it would be a way to control the fall.

But bankruptcy is considered a bad word, and the mention of it can be conversation-ending.

Most people don’t know that much about it, however.

There are obviously negative moral connotations to the word, and I think the general view is that a person who files bankruptcy is irresponsible or just trying to make others pay for his or her mistakes.

Man, It’s Expensive to Be Alive

I’m not going to explore the moral correctness of bankruptcy too much in this post, but I do want to talk about some basic living expenses.

Housing costs start at about $1,200.00 where I live, and that’s typically for a studio or one-bedroom apartment.

That amounts to $14,400.00 per year. 

Let’s keep going with some bare minimum costs:

Housing: $1,200.00 / month minimum

Car insurance: $100.00 / month minimum

Utilities: $150.00 / month minimum

Gas: $120.00 / month minimum

Health insurance: $300.00 / month minimum

Dental insurance: $15.00 / month minimum

Vision insurance: $6.00 / month minimum

Groceries: $400.00 / month minimum

Life insurance: $20.00 / month minimum

Household needs

(toilet paper, soap, laundry detergent, etc.): $20.00 / month minimum

Clothing and shoes: $20.00 / month minimum

Out-of-pocket medical and dental costs: $200.00 / month minimum

Personal care items

(shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant, etc.): $5.00 / month minimum

Cell phone: $50.00 / month minimum

Car payments / repairs / maintenance: $150.00 / month minimum

Total: $2,706.00 / month and $32,472.00 / year

I don’t think I’ve made more than $60,000.00 in a year yet, and I only hovered around that for the last two or three years before I left my job in December 2024.

Prior to that job, my gross (before taxes and deductions) max was around $42,000.00 in a year, and most years much less.

Nonetheless, assuming a gross yearly income of $60,000.00, my after tax amount was probably about $46,000.00 maximum.

$46,000.00 minus the $32,472.00 listed above leaves approximately $13,528.00, or about $1,127.33 per month.

The Financial Reality

Depending on your circumstances, you might be thinking damn! That’s plenty to have left over!

Not so fast. 

First of all, the costs I listed above are the absolute minimum I have seen. The reality of most of those costs is much higher.

For example, take the $200.00 per month out-of-pocket medical and dental cost. That number is likely higher by at least $50-$100 monthly, if not more. Dental crowns or fillings cost at least a few hundred after insurance, and usually there is a $50 – $100 deductible payable at your first dental cleaning each year. 

I’ve never had less than a $2,500.00 out-of-pocket deductible for health insurance, and usually it’s higher than that. 

Prescriptions typically run me $30.00 out-of-pocket for a 30-day supply of one prescription. I have three regular prescriptions. 

Plus $400.00 per month for groceries? That’s $100.00 per week, folks. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that actually doesn’t go all that far at the grocery store, especially these days. 

That clothing and shoe allotment I included totals $240.00 per year. The only way you could make that work in a professional job is likely by shopping exclusively at Wal-Mart and Goodwill (and good luck with the office mean girls).

The personal care budget of $5.00 per month means only $60.00 per year. It’s usually much higher, especially for women, even for *frugal* women. 

And now I have a baby. Her daycare costs $305.00 per week. Her formula costs approximately $30.00 per week. She had a prescription for two months that cost $30.00 each month.

And then there are the consumer debt payments, of which I now have many, including student loan debt.

And, even if you never go on vacations (I can’t remember what a vacation feels like), most people do like to occasionally do something fun. 

Eating out at a cheap restaurant is usually $25.00 minimum for two people.

Supplies for grilling out probably run at least $25.00.

How about mini-golf this weekend? $30.00.

Your family or friends want you to drive a few hours to visit? Minimum $30.00 for the gas.

Then there are the miscellaneous yearly fees.

For example, it typically costs a couple hundred to file taxes each year.

Car registration costs a minimum of $120.00 per year. 

Glasses cost at least $150.00 after insurance. 

My utilities actually run something like $400.00 or more per month.

Maybe you have the bad luck to run into a police officer trying to make his contact quota while you are going a few miles too fast. That’s usually a minimum of $200.00 (fortunately that has not happened to me in probably 10 years now, knock on wood). 

Then, let’s get into basic home maintenance.

A furnace tune-up is a couple hundred dollars. The annual inspection, cleaning, and maintenance of a gas fireplace is a few hundred (I think I paid $300.00 the last time I had it done two years ago).

Any plumber or electrician charges at least $100.00 just to diagnose a problem.

My point is that while I commonly castigate myself for ending up in this situation, the truth is this: 

During the years of my life when my financial ship was in good shape, I had no life. I was thirty years old with a roommate. I went straight home after work. I turned down most invitations to do anything at all. I didn’t go on dates. I worked second and third jobs.

Have I also made some stupid money moves in my thirty-three years on this earth? 

Oh yeah. Plenty.

But look at those numbers above again. Not much room for error. 

I can just hear certain people in this country now.

Well, you shouldn’t have had a baby if you couldn’t afford it. (Though sometimes they say you must have a baby because otherwise who will work and pay into Social Security? Or don’t worry, everything will work out if you have a baby?)

You shouldn’t have gotten pets. 

No furniture either, unless you are financially sound. 

Healthcare is a privilege, not a right.

Hell, you shouldn’t eat if you don’t make enough money to eat! That’s on you!

(But also somehow you must keep spending to keep everybody profiting.)

And even though I do not agree with the kinds of people that say things like the above, I have apparently spent enough time around that mindset to have believed in it, to have parroted it to people at times, and to have been unable to shake the guilt of it all.

But I think I’m ready to finally, finally, say:

Shut. 

The. 

F-Word. 

Up.

I’ve never taken public assistance (I don’t qualify) or used a food pantry (I’m not looking down on anyone who has).

For too many years, I received praise for having a ā€œgood work ethicā€.

And that isn’t worth anything in this country. 

The only things that get a person off the bottom rungs in this country appear to be nepotism, sociopathic behavior, or luck.

And I was too stupid and/or idealistic to work the nepotism angle while I was still young.

But I digress.

Bankruptcy Basics

Let’s get back to the B word. 

I’m going to break down some bankruptcy basics below.

(PSA: Bankruptcy is complicated, and I am not a lawyer, so the following is not advice!)

An individual (i.e. not a business) filing bankruptcy would usually consider only two types of bankruptcies (there are others).

Those are Chapter 7 and Chapter 13. According to Debt.org, 98% of bankruptcy filings are either Chapter 7 or Chapter 13.

Chapter 7: Liquidation

Chapter 7 is a liquidation bankruptcy and it does not require a repayment plan. 

What does that mean? It means if you own anything of value, get ready to say goodbye.

(Fortunately or unfortunately, most of what the average person owns is not considered valuable). 

Essentially, a designated person (the ā€œtrusteeā€) sells any eligible property you own to pay off your debts. By eligible, I mean there are certain kinds of property that are protected from being sold and the rules on that can vary by state.

Any remaining eligible debts after that would be discharged, which means you would not be required to pay them. By eligible, here I mean there are some debts that cannot be discharged (i.e. you will never escape them unless you can pay them). Student loan debt is one of these. Tax debt is another.

According to UScourts.gov, ā€œone of the primary purposes of bankruptcy is to discharge certain debts to give an honest individual debtor a “fresh start.”ā€

As you can guess, this means that one aspect of filing for bankruptcy is proving that you are honest and deserving of a fresh start, and therefore you must provide a lot of personal information.

According to that same source, you must provide the following:

  1. Bankruptcy petition
  2. Information (ā€œschedulesā€) on assets and liabilities
  3. Information (ā€œschedulesā€) on current income and expenses
  4. Statement of financial affairs (I don’t know what this means)
  5. Schedule of executory contracts and unexpired leases (I don’t know what this means)
  6. Tax returns for the most recent tax year as well as the tax returns filed during the case

Side note: I hate the word ā€œscheduleā€ used in this context. What a pompous, confusing word. Schedule basically just means a list of information.

If you have consumer debts, there are further requirements.

According to Azcourts.gov, consumer debt includes store credit cards, credit cards, medical bills, auto loans, and student loans.

For consumer debts, you must also provide the following (Source: UScourts.gov):

  1. A certificate of credit counseling and a copy of any debt repayment plan developed through credit counseling.
  2. Proof of income earned from a job within the 60 day period prior to filing, if applicable.
  3. Details of monthly net income, and any expected increase in income or expenses.
  4. A record of any interest the debtor has in federal or state qualified education or tuition accounts.

Finally, if you are married, there are some additional things to think about. Your spouse doesn’t have to file for bankruptcy with you, but you still have to provide information on your spouse’s income, expenses, assets, and liabilities.

I’m not sure why this is considered a separate list, but UScourts.gov clarifies that as part of the above outlined information, the following must be present:

  1. A list of all creditors and the amount and nature of their claims. So your bank, Capital One, American Express, your student loan servicer, the hospital where you had your baby, etc.
  2. The source, amount, and frequency of the debtor’s income.
  3. A list of all of the debtor’s property.
  4. A detailed list of the debtor’s monthly living expenses, which would include food, clothing, shelter, utilities, taxes, transportation, medicine.

Just Because You’re Broke Doesn’t Mean Bankruptcy is Free

There are filing fees due to the court in order to submit the petition for bankruptcy (and obviously these go beyond any fees paid to a lawyer). Per UScourts.gov, ā€œthe courts must charge a $245 case filing fee, a $75 miscellaneous administrative fee, and a $15 trustee surcharge.ā€

I assume, but I don’t know, that these are minimum amounts and courts can charge more. Not sure on that.

The Public Flogging…I Mean Creditor’s Meeting

There will be a meeting that you, the debtor, have to attend along with the trustee, and everyone to whom you owe money.

Apparently at this meeting, your creditors get to ask you all kinds of questions about your financial situation and decisions.

After the meeting, the trustee tells the court whether you deserve the bankruptcy. The actual words are, whether the case is ā€œpresumed to be abuse.ā€ 

The bankruptcy judge is not allowed to attend the meeting.

Who is the Trustee, Anyway?

The court picks a neutral party. This is not somebody in your life, and nor is it a government employee. I assume the court has an approved roster of these people and you just get assigned one. 

The trustee is supposed to make sure that you are not committing fraud or otherwise hiding information. As noted above, they attend the creditor’s meeting and then report back to the court. The trustee is also responsible for selling any eligible property to pay off your debts.

Chapter 13: The “Wage-Earner’s” Bankruptcy

The name on this one is kind of hilarious/ridiculous. I’m going to guess that ā€œwage-earnersā€ are filing both Chapter 7 and Chapter 13 bankruptcies. But I suppose what they really mean is ā€œgood wage-earnersā€. 

Chapter 13 is for people who can’t pay their debts, but make enough money to pay them under an adjusted plan over 3 to 5 years.

Apparently this is the option for people who own a house and hope to keep that house from foreclosure.

Additionally, according to Uscourts.gov, ā€œChapter 13 acts like a consolidation loan under which the individual makes the plan payments to a chapter 13 trustee who then distributes payments to creditors. Individuals will have no direct contact with creditors while under chapter 13 protection.ā€

For Chapter 13, you have to provide the same information as noted above for Chapter 7, and you still have to have the meeting with the creditors and the trustee. The difference is (and I’m obviously oversimplifying this), you have to submit a repayment plan that your creditors agree to, and then you have to stick to that plan. 

A successful Chapter 13 case can prevent a foreclosure on your home, or it can stop a foreclosure in progress, but if your bank gets its ducks in a row first and sells the house, the bankruptcy case doesn’t change anything.

How Long Does It Take?

The Chapter 7 bankruptcy process typically takes between 3 to 5 months, according to Debt.org.

A Chapter 13 repayment plan may take 3 to 5 (but not more than 5) years.

Bankruptcy Consequences

It seems the consequences could vary wildly, depending on your specific circumstances, and the level of stigma prevalent in your social circles.

However, concrete consequences include the following:

A Chapter 7 bankruptcy stays on your credit report for 10 years. 

A Chapter 13 bankruptcy stays on your credit report for 7 years. 

According to Debt.org, your credit score could drop by as much as 240 points.

You may not be able to get loans, and if you do, the interest rate is likely to be much higher. 

As for me, my credit is already ruined, and I can’t get loans anymore anyways. 

I am worried, though, about being able to rent an apartment if I lose my house. A lot of landlords do credit checks, and so do some jobs.

Decisions, Decisions

The process to file for bankruptcy seems tortuous at best, and of course I don’t actually want to do it.

I want to find other solutions.

However, I’m already attempting to develop side hustles.

I’ve spoken with a non-profit credit counselor as well, and while he offered some great consolidation options, I ran into two issues with moving forward.

First, he was unable to work with several of my lenders because they, by policy, don’t work with third parties. Second, and this is the real barrier, I had zero extra cash to begin making payments.

I think I’m running out of time and time is of the essence.

If I wait too long on the bankruptcy decision, we might find ourselves homeless. Still, a Chapter 13 bankruptcy requires a lawyer, which obviously costs money. 

But, I’d have to sell the house first to file a Chapter 7 on my own.

And then where to live?

Well, TBD, fam.

Further Fun Reading

  1. Consequences of Bankruptcy
  2. Bankruptcy Basics
  3. Chapter 7 Bankruptcy Basics
  4. Chapter 13 Bankruptcy Basics
Categories
ADHD Journey This N' That

Sometimes, the meaning isn’t there.

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Image by wal_172619 from Pixabay

Earlier tonight, I was thinking about the tagline I picked for my blog: finding meaning in the mess.

I started to wonder: what if I’m not really living up to that tagline? I haven’t exactly been philosophizing about finding meaning.

But then I thought, well, finding meaning in the mess is kind of the default in life, isn’t it?

Despite our best efforts (and I think even for neurotypical people), life is often a mess. What we choose to do every day—or have to do—is all in the pursuit of survival first. But once that’s out of the way, it becomes about finding meaning, even if we don’t consciously realize that’s what we’re doing.

So I’m covered!

Haha. But I think I originally conceptualized this tagline as something I might explore further, kind of in a silver linings way. This year has felt particularly chaotic, so the question becomes: What have I learned from that? Did some good come out of the chaos?

And I believe the answer is yes.

But I also think I’d be putting the cart before the horse if I didn’t address something else first:

I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately.

The other night, I realized I’d been thinking about it so much that I started to get nervous: was I experiencing a sense of impending doom? That can be a legitimate medical red flag.

I don’t know if that’s what’s going on. But it’s true that death feels everywhere right now.

Look at this administration. We’re seeing death all around us: the death of rights, the death of certain values (integrity? honesty?), and actual death in Ukraine, Gaza, and around the world of people who relied on USAID for sustenance.

I can’t look at the news without seeing death.

And then in our little family’s orbit:

My husband’s father died the same week our baby girl was born. His grandfather passed away a few weeks later. My grandmother had a stroke recently, and it seems like the end since she’s no longer responsive.

And of course, my mother died when my siblings and I were kids. That loss is as present as ever since becoming a mother myself.

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Image by Anemone123 from Pixabay

But somehow more affecting, in some ways, is the sudden, brutal death of our dreams.

In just a few months, and even as grateful as we are to have our daughter, we’ve gone from working on home projects and dreaming of future plans and vacations… to just existing.

Knowing our life here is now temporary.

Knowing that any day now, we’ll find the foreclosure summons in the mailbox.

We poured so much energy into the fight at first. Side jobs, side hustles. I was out doing grocery deliveries three days after giving birth.

But the fight has since kind of gone out of us, as obstacle after obstacle knocks us back.

We’re not really talking about the future anymore.

I haven’t really sat down to process that…let alone grieve it.

I see photos of us from last fall and early winter, and I already don’t recognize those happy faces.

And honestly? I don’t really want to grieve it. It already sucks. The thought of sitting down and unpacking every regret, every smothered hope, every wrong turn, it’s just too much.

And despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise, I’m not really finding any solace in saying things like:

This is our journey.
This is a new chapter.
This is just another adventure.

Maybe it’s some lingering trauma, or whatever you want to call it, from when we were kids. After my mom died, my dad used to say that: It’s a new chapter. He said it for different life events. But things never really settled down. Things never felt normal or stable again.

At some point he just stopped saying it.

And that train of thought led me to my first real sense of grief over my ADHD diagnosis.

After the evaluation, the practitioner told me I might feel some grief thinking about what could’ve been. I didn’t really connect with that at first. I thought:

ā€œWell, that may be true for some people, but I am who I am, diagnosis or not.ā€

Except…

In a way, an ADHD diagnosis feels like being told other people were right about you all along. That you are the reason everything in your life is a mess. That you don’t see things clearly, you make stupid mistakes. And worse: there’s not much you can do about it except maybe take medication to get closer to who you should be… but aren’t.

And suddenly, I felt regret over getting the diagnosis, which, of course, is irrational, but hear me out.

The medication has helped. I feel more like a complete person. I don’t wake up feeling like a freshly-risen zombie anymore—stumbling around, confused, hungry, disjointed.

But… does it matter?

I feel better, sure. But who cares, when our family is on the verge of losing our home?

Great. I have a little more focus during the day. But what good is that when I can’t translate it into any real income?

This is the part where I could try to find a hopeful way to wrap things up. Something uplifting. Something sunny.

But I’m not going to do that.

Sometimes you just have to sit amongst the debris of your life.

And this isn’t a post about silver linings.

watercolor of a sad girl
Image by Alexandra Haynak from Pixabay

Psst. I’m starting to try to tackle my next steps, and to do that, I need to wrap my head around The B-Word (Bankruptcy). If you are interested, you can read more about that here.

Categories
ADHD Journey Parenting This N' That

Pathway to Peace (Kind Of): My Anxiety Diagnosis and Medication Journey

This post is about my anxiety diagnosis and the medication I take for it, Sertraline, which is the generic name for Zoloft. I’m 33 years old and I’ve been taking Sertraline for about three years now. 

Below is the story of how I got there.

This isn’t a clinical explanation or a perfect before-and-after story. It’s messy and personal. I’m sharing it because sometimes hearing someone else’s unfiltered experience can be more comforting than advice.

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Image by summerstock from Pixabay

My Anxiety Diagnosis at 33: Why I Finally Sought Help

I know there are people out there who say everyone needs a diagnosis these days! Everyone needs a label!

Well, I’ll tell you what: saying ā€œI have anxietyā€ is a lot cleaner than saying:

Don’t mind me if I call you frantic because I think maybe possibly I left the stove on last night even though I checked it five times. Don’t mind me if I start involuntarily crying. Just ignore it and keep talking, and whatever you do, don’t say it’ll all be alright, or what’s wrong? That will make me cry more. Don’t mind me if I don’t text you back right away. Trust me, I saw your text and I thought of probably ten different ways to reply, and I appreciate you as a person, and I don’t want you to feel that I’m dismissing you or ignoring you, but I’m afraid of what happens if I open the door to this conversation because maybe you have a good impression of me and I’ll ruin it by saying the wrong thing, or maybe I’ll just generally say something and you’ll react and I won’t know what I did and then maybe the relationship will be over, so I guess maybe it’s better if it’s over now…

Yeah. I could go on, and trust me, there is a similar monologue for just about every mundane happening on any given day.

But in a crisis?

That rambling, nervous Nelly voice finally shuts it and despite the chaos and adrenaline, I can actually think!

So What Is Anxiety?

I don’t know! 

Is it unresolved trauma? Is it genetic? Just a different sensitivity level?

Does it really matter?

I’ll say this, and it only applies to my journey, I’m not suggesting anything about anyone else:

I’m glad I didn’t have the diagnosing type of parent. I’m glad that, despite the struggles, I had to fight it out for a while and came to a place of seeking diagnosis and medication on my own. I think I needed that foundation first.

Again, I’m not suggesting anything for anyone else. If my daughter displays signs of anxiety, I’ll take what action seems most appropriate at the time, and I wouldn’t try to recreate my own experience for her. Not to mention, that would be impossible!

Ha!

I’d have to get her a bunch of siblings, start her off with a disciplined mother from a well-organized family, kill off that mother from cancer (no thanks, knock on wood), add a second marriage, add some additional kids, add a messy divorce that never ended, and on and on it goes.

It’s ridiculous to think I would approach an entirely different set of circumstances with the thing that seems to have helped me. Now that that’s out of the way…

The First Signs of Anxiety I Didn’t Recognize at the Time

I don’t really know if I was an anxious child. Per my father’s stories about us as kids, I don’t think so.

i told the counselor i was considering asking my doctor about sertraline. she just shrugged and said, sure, maybe it’ll take the edge off.(2)

The first memory I have of what truly seems to have been anxiety is from when I was a senior in high school. The church was having a ā€œcelebrate the seniorsā€ thing, where the families made those fleece tie blankets, and then we all stood up there draped in the blanket while our parents put their hands on our shoulders and somebody said some words.

I have no idea what was said. I just remember getting extremely hot and uncomfortable. I didn’t want them touching me and couldn’t stand the thought of us all pretending to be a happy family (although now as an adult, I realize there are plenty of families who aren’t ā€œhappyā€ but are perfectly fine, so yes, I was probably being dramatic).

I just couldn’t take it and found myself making a scene by bolting for the little back exit door in tears. I went upstairs and hid in the preschool until everyone was gone, including my own family. I’m pretty sure I then drove somewhere or drove home, but I definitely don’t remember ever having a conversation about it with anyone.

Living With Anxiety: What It Really Feels Like

Fast forward to the job I was working three years ago as a financial coordinator in a healthcare setting. Prior to that, I had quit my first job. I had stopped jobs before due to things like going back to college or moving, but I had never just quit.

(Well, now I’ve gotten too good at that, but that’s a different story.)

I thought I was all set. The new job was task-based, semi-professional but still relatively active and urgent. It was post-Covid, so we wore company-supplied scrubs (thought that would eliminate social anxiety and decision fatigue), there was a gym nearby I’d use at lunch, and in many ways, it was a good job. I thought I had figured out the formula.

And yet, that dragon anxiety, or whoever she is, reared her head.

thus i take the medication

Involuntary tears. Analysis paralysis. Overwhelm. All of it.

Another thing about this job: a whole bunch of women in the office were taking Sertraline. Sounds kind of laughable, right? Like I just decided to succumb to peer pressure and jump off the cliff with them?

Not quite, but I did get to hear a lot of first-hand experiences. One woman described the day she dropped her 6-year-old son off and just drove away. She eventually came back, but the anxiety that prompted her to do that was what led her to talk to her doctor.

One final notable aspect of this job: the health insurance was cheap, and I could easily see a counselor for a small out-of-pocket copay.

So I figured, why not?

From ā€œMaladjustedā€ to Diagnosed: The Insurance-Driven Labeling of Anxiety

I’ve never gone to a counselor for any significant length of time, but on and off I’ve seen different people. I’ve never felt like oh wow! after a session, but the conversations often helped shake things loose. Sometimes just anticipating the appointment was helpful.

a cartoon image depicting talk therapy
Image by poli_ from Pixabay

With this counselor, we did telehealth sessions, even though she was local. Was she helpful? To some extent, yes. But she also seemed to be practically snoozing through sessions. Her questions and comments also weren’t particularly perceptive.

Still, two important things came out of those sessions.

1. The Medication Suggestion

I talked about my previous job, which was unorthodox, abrasive, and even, though this word is overused, toxic. (Long story short: lots of behind-the-scenes personal connections. Small town stuff.)

At the time, I was wondering if my experiences at the previous job were affecting my perspective at the current job.

I told the counselor I was considering asking my doctor about Sertraline. She just shrugged and said, sure, maybe it’ll take the edge off.

That nonchalant response did not endear her to me, but it did kind of help. I’d built up medication in my head as this terrifying, life-altering decision. Her casual response helped me realize maybe it’s not such a big deal to ask my doctor.

2. The Diagnosis Debacle

After a couple sessions, I got a notification to sign a document: I’d been diagnosed with adjustment disorder. This sent me into a (now hilarious) spiral; I thought I’d been labeled a maladjusted loon. I prepared a big response to talk it out with the counselor.

Her reaction?

ā€œI just had to write that for insurance.ā€

Uhhh.

A few sessions later, I got another diagnosis: general anxiety disorder. I didn’t sign it. I canceled my next session and never went back.

Was it an official diagnosis or what?

I guess.

I still think it was odd and unprofessional to drop that on me without a real conversation. But after talking with various professionals since, yeah the shoe fits. 

would i rather

And honestly, I don’t care. The result is what matters: Sertraline helps me feel more even and relax more easily.

I also truly believe it helped me get through pregnancy, birth, and post-partum relatively unscathed.

Finally, I think it makes me a better mother. I still intellectually have all the same worries in the world, but I’m able to tone down the emotional side of it, and be present and gentle around my daughter.

I’ll never know of course, but I don’t think that would have been the case without medication.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Talking to My Doctor About Anxiety Medication

The conversation with my doctor was the opposite of the counseling experience. Even after the counselor’s rather dismissive comment about medication, I still had it built up in my head quite a bit: what if the doctor thinks I’m drug-seeking? What if I cry? (Spoiler: I did.)

Ultimately, the doctor was very kind and supportive, almost too much so. Overwhelming in a different way. (My theory is that since I didn’t grow up with an affectionate parent, I find big displays of support unsettling.)

She suggested Sertraline, and said it’s a very common prescription for women (what does that say about this country?), and that side effects are mild unless you’re on a high dose.

What It’s Like Taking Sertraline (Zoloft): Three Years Later

My experience on Sertraline has been very positive. I don’t feel it ā€œkick inā€ or anything, but I do believe it’s helped me better navigate life. It is a pretty gentle medication, compared to things like Xanax, from what I understand anyway.

I used to be skeptical of medication. But here’s where I’ve landed:

Modern life in the U.S. is unnatural in many ways: low on physical activity, low on quality community connections, rampant hyper consumerism and emphasis on independence to a fault.

I have tried asking myself: what are my alternatives to participating in it?

There aren’t many good ones, though I’m working on it. So if I have to participate, why fight the thing that helps me do what I don’t want to do, but have to?

It’s like owning a car. I hate owning a car. It’s a giant scam. But there’s no public transportation where I live, so I own one. That’s how I think of the medication: a tool that gets me from A to B for my sake and my family’s sake.

Would I rather get from A to B on a bike and later nap, snack, and swim with no medication required? Maybe decompress with friends and family over a delicious and healthy dinner? Take regular vacations from work?

Yes. But I don’t live in that world.

I haven’t yet figured out how to make enough money to live in that world and our culture certainly gets further and further away from that world for the middle and working class every day.

Thus, I take the medication. And it helps.

Looking Ahead: The ADHD Chapter Begins

So what about the ADHD diagnosis? 

That came later.

Stay tuned.

a mountain landscape
Image by Sabine from Pixabay

Interested in personal experience posts like this? Read about my birth experience here, or my musings on my ADHD diagnosis here, or even my post about the blues here.

Categories
ADHD Journey Entrepreneurial Endeavors This N' That

I keep looking for a shortcut that doesn’t exist.

My dad likes to say that it takes ten years to recover from big life events. 

Every bone in my body rebels against that statement, like, ā€œbut I can’t wait ten years!ā€

seated woman looks out the window at an ocean view
Image by Alessandro Danchini from Pixabay

Well, it’s possible and probable that he’s right. It could take five years or ten years, and that’s if we’re lucky. 

In which case, my resistance to the idea doesn’t really change the reality, it just puts me in pain.

And I am trying to spark some big transformations in our lives, yes, I am. I have been mentally pushing hard on these entrepreneurial ideas we have. I have been resisting the urge to settle down, put the mask back on, and work at a job beneath my abilities simply because I know that otherwise I have to find a way to work with my rhythms and damn, they can be difficult. I can’t do big brain work, as I like to call it, in an 8 to 5 job. It just doesn’t work.

I have had success doing physical jobs within that frame work, and I do enjoy that quite a bit. I have no problem working in manufacturing, or cleaning, or food service. I really don’t, and in fact I love that those jobs are a natural weight management tool for me (as opposed to seated office jobs which make me feel like I’m wearing someone else’s body).

But, one caveat with those jobs is that after a while, my brain runs on overdrive while I do the physical work and that tends to result in me dreaming up some scheme to leave the job anyway. I can’t get the monkey in my brain to quiet down.

Add to that, if you’re an employee in one of these jobs, it can be difficult to bring in enough income to support a family, particularly if you’re not all that good at the social and political maneuvering required at many jobs to secure raises.

As usual, I digress, but all of that is an explanation for why I’m resisting that urge (compulsively resisting I might add), to apply for a regular job, one of those that doesn’t pay great, but at least the benefits are cheaper than the Marketplace. But at this point, I don’t know if I can be a ā€œcompliantā€ (a word my former boss loved, which I think says a lot about him), employee. 

So I’m sitting here, asking myself, how can I truly settle in to the understanding that the transformation I want could take a decade or more to happen?

How can I truly help myself to grasp that there is no quick fix coming? No lottery win? No unexpected inheritance (an idea that makes me feel queasy anyway, plus I don’t have rich relatives, but I’m including it because it’s a fictional trope)? No surprise bonus (I’m not even working a job where that is probable)?Ā 

Just a whole lot of one step forward, two steps back in our future.

Can I stomach that? Can I truly take the uncertainty without trying to find a way to cheat, to trick the universe by secretly hoping for a miracle?

How can I live with the idea that the cavalry isn’t coming?

Can I accept that it’s just me and my husband (and baby and cats) painstakingly stacking one block on top of another while the universe shows up as an irate toddler who keeps smacking at the blocks, pissed at us for trying to build a little tower?

Can I stand it?

Do I have a choice?

colorful blocks form a castle
Image by N H from Pixabay

Let’s switch tactics. 

Let me ask myself this: what would I do differently if I truly understood that all of these hopes and aspirations were likely to take ten years or more to come to fruition? 

TBD.

Categories
ADHD Journey Parenting This N' That

Can daycare save our sanity? (Short answer: still hoping).

can day care save our sanity? kids playing at a daycare
Image by Rosy / Bad Homburg / Germany from Pixabay

My baby girl is almost 5 months old now.

We weren’t planning to put her in daycare just yet, mostly because of the cost. I’ve been working part-time in the mornings, and my husband works nights, so we figured we could make it work for a while. I thought daycare might be something we could consider if I found a higher-paying, full-time job.

Also, she’s still pretty little. (Even though had I not quit my job in December, I would have had to put her in daycare as early as 6 weeks.)

But then I sent an email to a daycare on a whim. My husband had been struggling with the accumulated lack of sleep and starting to make silly mistakes at work, and I was starting to feel hectic and rundown too.

This particular daycare only takes four babies in the infant room. By chance, I emailed right when they had an unexpected opening, and I happened to be the first person in line.

illustration of kids playing at a daycare
Image by Rosy / Bad Homburg / Germany from Pixabay

I thought we should give it a try. I hoped that if I could make some extra money during the afternoons, then maybe somehow things would work out.

I also secretly hoped to get some exercise and alone time in. (As a neurodivergent person, that alone time literally restores my ability to function. I don’t know how else to say it.)

But of course, first I had to see how she would do.

I was nervous. My husband was too. I was in daycare as a baby, along with my siblings, and I think we turned out fine. (And if you’re reading this blog and thinking ā€œyou’re not fineā€, well, my siblings are much more successful adults than I am, and they were in daycare too.)

child playing with blocks at a daycare
Image by Markus Spiske from Pixabay

Still, I read many opinions online about the ā€œbestā€ age to start daycare (apparently after the age of one), and I was really apprehensive about leaving my daughter with strangers.

What reassured me was the fact that this daycare only takes four babies, even though they’re licensed and could easily take more for profit. The owner’s toddler son is in the toddler room, and the infant room teacher has a young child of her own. Everything looked clean and organized. On the day I visited, I didn’t hear any crying from any of the babies or toddlers. They were all just happily playing or napping.

On her first day, my husband and I brought Ellie in late. We were procrastinating. The teacher reminded us we’d need to be on time moving forward. Whoops. First day, and the parents are already in trouble.

The teacher said hello to the baby, and my daughter stared at her for a few minutes before grinning. And that was that.

I spent the rest of the day glued to the daycare app, refreshing constantly for updates. Every photo showed my baby girl smiling. When I picked her up at the end of the day, she was still smiling: happy, alert, content.

I think she liked it. The environment was fun and stimulating. I think now that she’s getting older and more aware, it’s boring to be home with mama and papa, who are always tired. 

So, we got through the first hurdle: the first week. And she did great.

I felt a sense of relief. My husband, bless his heart, sent me a text saying ā€œthis is a new chapter, things are going to get better now!ā€

I love him for his optimism, but it drives me nuts when he makes such declarations. In my crazy brain, he’s tempting fate and inviting trouble. At the very least, he’s counting chickens that haven’t hatched. 

And here we are, week two. Guess where my daughter isn’t?

At daycare. 

Because she’s sick. 

We’re all sick. 

Which means I’m not working, so not only do we have a daycare bill, but I’m also not bringing in my regular income, let alone any extra.

Preparing to leave your baby with strangers is hard.
But once you get past that, don’t forget to mentally (and financially?) prepare yourself for the fact that your child will get sick at daycare, and everyone in your home will probably catch it too.

illustration of mean daycare germ
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay