The stress of a divorce and the rising tide of fascism have caused me to seriously regress in self care skills over the past few years. I am currently struggling with eating/“meal planning.” I am intellectually capable of understanding what is necessary to grocery shop/plan out meals, and used to be able to do so, but am struggling with executive dysfunction to the point where I cannot.
For the past two years, my diet has been fast food, chips, beer and candy. I had a few “safe foods” - specific brands of frozen meals that were reliable, but of late they are not working. Eg, I have been lying on the floor for the past five hours feeling absolutely famished, have considered going to the refrigerator and making one of the frozen meals that is usually “safe” - and am utterly incapable of doing so. I don’t think I could even eat it if I made it.
I’m guessing this is autism - I’m guessing I’m autistic - but there has never been any means for me to be evaluated. I have talked to my therapist about this, and have not really found the advice helpful.
The most effective thing has been stocking up on things like lunchables to at least get calories in. Sometimes even lunchables will stop being “safe” though. It gets harder to function when I’m hungry, so I get caught in a loop of lying in bed hungrier and hungrier. I know I can’t live off of gas station pizza and Monster, but there have been days where that’s all I feel capable of eating.
The apartment is another factor. I don’t really have furniture. I’ve been making a “couch” out of scrap T-shirts.
I guess I’ve had politics affect me too much to ignore it. The attacks on education (my career), the attacks on trans people (my life)… I don’t know what will happen when I renew my drivers license.
The hobbies are helpful. When I had more money I went to a pottery studio a few times. A lot of the hobbies are practical right now - sewing the “couch”, fixing my clothes, making dishclothes that I hope will motivate me to clean. Thrifting. I was on a hunt for speakers for a while and that was motivating.
It’s hard to understand it as chemical “depression” when it seems like a rational reaction to the world. I was born the child of a severely mentally ill teenage girl who slept with a man much older than her. I’ve always been “off” in some way - whether it’s autism or ADHD or whatever - there just aren’t the professionals who diagnose these things here. Whatever it was it was enough to make me different enough to bully. The “help” I received was conversion therapy, the troubled teen industry, and my mother’s strange sexual fantasies/advice. I ended up in an abusive controlling marriage which left me financially devastated and effectively bankrupt, while my millionaire ex husband’s family happily supports his little group of prostitutes.
I don’t have friends. I don’t have a support system. If I died, all of my art and books and writing and knitting would end up in a bin somewhere. I don’t feel like I exist. I’ve never seen antidepressants as a solution to these things, and I’ve always reacted strangely to psychiatric medication anyway. There’s very little good quality mental health care here - we have LPCs who play Dr. Phil. I have PTSD from experiences in inpatient treatment.
I’m just supposed to look at this impossible situation, and deal with it. I got fired a couple of weeks ago from my full time job - I was starting on things like unemployment and food stamps, but they won’t be coming. I get through the day by imagining the night - that I can go home, get drunk and high, that food will seem edible or at least I’ll stop caring about finances and spend too much money on delivery.
Losing food is what is breaking me. It’s like the last connection I feel I have to my body, and it’s tenuous at best. The idea that I could get through a week and make myself something nice or go get sushi or something and enjoy it. The only thing I have a sense of “looking forward to” is the dream of the move North - living in a place where I could teach again, a place where I’m not wondering whether getting pulled over will have me arrested for the “wrong” marker (our city jail has killed multiple people - the federal government has been trying to shut it down for a decade) But the prospect of economic collapse is making that dream fade. And if I am here when people start shooting, I will probably die.
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