Goodbye, my friend

One of the most painful things for me as an autistic individual who feels everything extremely deeply and who suffers from Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria is good friends drifting away. I'm talking about people I have shared very important moments of my life with, people whom I trusted and they trusted me, people I have supported and they have supported me, people with whom I had an important bond.

One day, some of these people started moving on/away from our friendship. They never said why, and I don't recall ever hurting them or wronging them in any way. I often even asked common friends their opinion and they also couldn't understand why that was. Mind you, I have friendships that have lasted for up to 28 years, and they're still going strong. So, I'm fully capable of maintaining long-term platonic relationships. 

But, it seems that for some reason, certain people can't. I do take it personally and it is hurtful, even though, I'm aware that not everyone can't maintain long-term friendships, and it's not exclusive to me. Sometimes their own trauma and mental health struggles may be the reason we drift apart. However, mourning a friendship, or when a friendship turns into an acquaintanceship, is wounding, lengthy and sometimes, something I may not recover from. 

.        Picture taken by me, Hastings, England.

Random Thoughts LXXXIV

Picture taken by me: London, December 2021.

Just another day of hopelessness, despair and anxiety.

I keep noticing and realising by observing my surroundings, people in real life, and people on the internet: a very large number of the population lacks logic and reason, the ability to think critically, and the will to learn before forming opinions, sharing them and insisting on them.

And the more I see this, and the more I see behaviours that confirm this, the less hope I have for the future of humanity, but also for my own future.

14 years.

Central London.

07-01-2010.

I moved to London on the 7th of January, 2010. I was 21 years old. The prospect of living in UK appeared exciting (I was watching too much Skins at the time), but I was also scared shitless, as I had no one in UK and feared the unknown. I was confused about who I was, what my future would be like, what my life in UK would be like... 

Today, on the 14th-year anniversary of the move, I reminisce my first day in London. How different everything felt compared to Athens; how different I felt, but also how accepted and embraced... Despite people being friendly and complimenting my style, my first day in London was stressful and terrifying. Having to talk to other students as an introvert, let alone in a foreign language, having to figure everything out in uni halls without any prior experience or knowledge on how things worked... It was a lot to deal with. 

My first couple of months in London I cried myself to sleep almost every night. I was lost; I was lonely and missing my loved ones; I didn't understand uni student dynamics and politics; and I didn't know that I was experiencing dysphoria due to the big change and the new environment, as I'm autistic.

In the years that came, I made some amazing meaningful connections; I found many elements from British culture I could relate to and appreciate; I formed long-lasting friendships; I learned a lot about who I was and who I am, and I started the process of unmasking. UK has been like a mother to me, and London became a place I call home. I'm still trying to figure life out; I'm still scared, a little less confused and a lot more familiar with the city and how things work. 

Here's to the next 14 years, hoping I will be less scared, even less confused, and maybe a little happier, more stable and settled here.

L

2024. New year, same me: My thoughts on 'change.'

2024. 

I've seen a lot of posts writing "New year, new me" circulating social media. I've been thinking about people's need to change, or their need to announce their intention to change. If you feel there is a reason for you to change, it makes sense to try to motivate yourself to achieve the change. Maybe you're  reconsidering your approach to life; maybe you want to work on how you react to things; maybe you want to be a better person (whatever that may mean to you, e.g. becoming kinder/more self-aware/straightforward etc.). Whatever the reason might be, if you feel a change within is the solution to living a better, more fulfilling life, go for it. 

In my case, I'd say, it's "New year, same me," as I don't want to change who I am. I have worked – and I am still working – very hard on finding my true self and living authentically to her. Am I perfect? No. Have I reached self-actualization? Absolutely not. There's a lot more room for improvement and I got a very long way till I reach my 'full potential' as a human and a person. However, I don't want to become a new person. I am very happy with my core, my values, my ideologies, and the way I see the world. Does that make me suffer more than most, due to being 'very sensitive' or 'paying too much time and attention' to people's bad actions (whether targeting me or others)? Yes, 100%. But, the alternative doesn't interest me: apathy is a disease to me, and maliciousness is even worse. I don't want to 'change,' because I live my life respecting others, considering their needs, being empathetic and understanding to their circumstances (when applicable) and trying to do good, overall.

Do I think the world we live in must change, instead, as it is a cruel and toxic place to be? Yes, indeed. Solidarity, respect, empathy, education on social issues, human rights – to name a few – should be taken for granted, instead of many of us having to fight for them on a daily basis. Right? I guess, to me, that's right. Except, what I came to realise is that to some, that's not right. It's a matter of ethics and morals, which despite certain standards set and defined by laws and unwritten social rules, can be highly subjective. Therefore, there's not much I can do about others' ethics and morals, especially when the law or their environment allows them to hurt others without consequences. I can try to talk to them and/or disrupt their bad actions (when possible), but I can't be the one to punish them, or force them to change their ways. Change has to come from within or be enforced by the relevant systems, after all.

I'm going to leave you now, paraphrasing Arleen Lorrance's quote on change, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

A year later...

Today marks one year since my second surgery. A surgery I had to have for medical reasons. A surgery that changed my body forever, and deformed my favourite body part.

I have not been able to return to how I loved and embraced my body before the surgery, but I am trying. Loving oneself is hard enough, without external factors intervening. 

On this day, I'm self reflecting on my journey to recovery, the realisation that the body can take years — if ever — to fully heal from physical trauma, how physical and psychological trauma are intertwined, and how one can navigate relearning to love themselves, after they're not 'themselves' anymore. 

I don't have any answers to give you, or myself, at the moment. Recovering and healing can be difficult. Complications can be scary and horrendous. The unknown is terrifying. No one can give you an absolute guarantee things will go as planned, or that you will be okay. 

The hospitalisation for and recovering from the two surgeries I had (for the same medical reason), were the worst experiences I've ever had to go through — and I've been through some terrible shit. I will always have a scar reminding me of the nightmare, but I can only wish that my body will fully heal in the foreseeable future, so I can — at least partially — move on to a happier and healthier place.

Lara

---

My poem 'de-FORmed:'

Goodbye;

Farewell.

I know I’ll never see you again.

You changed forever: your shape, your form.

All that remains is I, deformed

https://mysticismlover.wordpress.com/2022/10/17/de-formed/

---

PS. I kindly ask that you do not comment/message regarding my surgeries or my health.

PS2. Please, also refrain from dismissing my trauma or diminishing my experience. "You look fine" comments aren't welcome.

PS3. From the bottom of my heart, 'Thank you' to those who have supported me throughout this journey, either practically, or emotionally. I don't know that I would have been able to persevere without you. I am forever grateful. 

Random Thoughts LXXXIII

Depression is 

forcing yourself to take a shower; yet, lacking the energy to lift the shower head to wash yourself. You stare at it crying, the overwhelming existential fatigue making even the smallest movement feel akin to climbing a mountain.

Anxiety is 

a relentless assault on your mind, dissecting and scrutinizing every perceived ‘flaw’ and imperfection within yourself and your life. You can’t stop falling down the rabbit hole of negative thoughts. Your body becomes a vessel of suffering.

Random Thoughts LXXXII

Today, London’s temperature has been reminiscent of Athens in late May or early June.

Warm days, slightly chilly nights.

What I miss the most about my hometown is strolls bathed in moonlight, breathing the city in, being an observer of the microcosm that late-night Athens is.

I don’t think I’ll ever love a city as much again, with such passion, such unbearable longing, such tenderness… And, at the same time, dreading visiting for too long, or becoming Athenian full-time again.

My feelings for Athens are as confusing and conflicting, as Athens itself is riddled with antithesis and contradictions:

Ancient and modern, wise and impulsive, pretty and ugly, resilient and clumsy.

That’s her core and her beauty.

Καληνύχτα Αθήνα μου.

Random Thoughts LXXXI

Το κάθε ένα άτομο ας κάνει αυτό που μπορεί για να αντέξει τον αβάσταχτο πόνο της ματαιότητας της ύπαρξης...

Random Thoughts LXXX

Isn’t it fucked up that the world we live in is so shitty, we constantly seek forms of escapism?
Be it food, drugs, shopping, gambling, adrenaline rushes or anything else, many are in a constant search for distractions from the life they live.

International Women's Day

(Image Source: https://www.staffnet.manchester.ac.uk/news/display/?id=29403)

Today is International Women's Day.

I won't be wishing us Happy International Women's Day, though. I'll say stop discriminating against us, disrespecting/shaming/raping/murdering/abusing us, instead.

Oh, and a kind reminder that trans women are women.

Now that I got this out of the way, I want to talk about a specific quote I see people share every year on this day: "Here's to strong women. May we know them. May we be with them. May we raise them."

 
I find this quote highly problematic for the following reasons:

-Women shouldn't have to be 'strong' to be appreciated and celebrated. The notion that we always have to be strong, to persevere and rise above puts us on the pedestal, which then 'justifies' unrealistic and unfair expectations of us. We're not superheroes, we're human beings. The expectation of 'strength' also makes it harder for us to feel comfortable asking for help when we need it, resulting in us suffering in silence or alone, which of course works in patriarchy's favour. Because, as long as we keep our pain and suffering to ourselves, we don't 'disrupt' and we're isolated, the patriarchy can keep doing its job of oppressing and controlling women. And lastly, what has 'strength' or being 'strong' been associated with in our society - typically? Masculinity and men. Being vulnerable is mostly - typically - associated with femininity and women. I'm not going to analyse why these stereotypes are bullshit; but, I do want to ask this question: why is it that even on a day dedicated to women, we're expected to act like men to be respected and celebrated? 

-All women and femmes should be celebrated on this day, regardless of their perceived 'strength' or lack of. Excluding a group of women/femmes from their own day is, well... Kind of anti-women.

I understand that many people sharing the quote do it with good intentions, and I appreciate those intentions. However, I'd like to invite you to consider the deeper meaning of what you share and its wider implications.

A plant named 'Vagina'

Since I'm ill, and can't do fuck all atm, I decided to tell you a story about one of two times I tried to be a plant parent.

Back in 2021 or so, a friend had gifted me a pot of a very beautiful pink flower. Don't ask me its name, I know nothing about most plants, unless they can be smoked. lol. Anyhow, my friend was all excited to urge me to become a plant parent. I, on the other hand, wasn't excited. I was horrified. In the past, I managed to kill a cactus; I knew this poor flowery creature stood no chance.

I thought I had to name it (because I have a tendency to name things) in a way that would motivate me to take care of it. Hence, I named her 'Vagina.'

Now, my Vagina started all pink and pretty, and I did remember to water her from time to time. I even talked to her and petted her. I have a slight suspicion all the other housemates watered her, too, when they shouldn't have. Her beautiful pink petals gradually fell, and she looked like a spooky tree from a horror movie.

As you can guess, I was concerned. Very concerned. I didn't want my Vagina to perish. I read a few articles and consulted a couple of green-fingered people on how to save her. I was told I had to remove her from her pot and check if there was any mold on the roots. I was also advised to cut the dry branches off. I did both. My Vagina looked sadder and drier than ever.

As time went by, there was no improvement of her state. My Vagina wasn't going to survive. Her roots seemed fine to me, however, her body was the shadow of its old self. I pondered upon what to do, and finally, decided it was time to bid my Vagina farewell. I took her out of her pot and buried her in another pot, one of a large plant in the garden. My reasoning was that since she was dead/dying anyway, she could at least become one with the earth and benefit another plant.

And thus, my Vagina was gone forever.

Random Thoughts LXXIX

 Being apolitical is one of the greatest indications of privilege and indifference.

How my life changed forever at 33 – The saddest birthday

Today is the last day I'll be 33-years old.

Good fucking riddance. 

An acquaintance had told me 33 was such an amazing year, because 33 sounds like "30 free." She had went on about how it was a great year for her and I should be so excited to be turning 33. 

Towards my 33rd birthday, I was trying to heal from all the trauma and turmoil that took place when I was 32, so I was wishing that 33 would give me a break. Nah.

Shortly after I turned 33, I received my official ADHD diagnosis. It was tremendously validating to finally have an explanation for so many things that I was doing or traits I had (which had been troubling me forever), but that opened a can of worms. Once I finally had confirmation I was an ADHDer, I started suspecting I was autistic – among others. Having to deal with a late ADHD diagnosis is beyond challenging: you re-examine your whole life, and mourn for the years you lost not being able to be your authentic self – due to having to mask and the lack of accommodations towards your neurodivergence; you feel anger and frustration that no-one had noticed: parents, teachers, friends, professors, partners, therapists, psychiatrists, doctors... Why didn't anyone notice? Why did I have to suffer all alone? Then, you feel empathy and sorrow for 'you' that was exploited as a vulnerable person. Add discovering that you probably have coexisting neurodiversities to the equation and it's more than most of us can handle on a good day. 

Amidst all that, I stopped taking my antidepressants (SSRIs), after four and a half years. It was something I had been wanting to do for a very long time, but the confirmation I was neurodivergent solidified that need and want. I knew that my depression and anxiety being treated as stand-alone conditions would do fuck-all long-term. I had to focus on living my live authentically, as a neurodivergent person; I had to focus on other things beyond the depression and anxiety. That isn't to say that antidepressants didn't help the first couple of years of taking them. They did. They were the reason I overcame my agoraphobia, and why my panic disorder lay dormant for years. It is worth-mentioning that I always combined taking medication with going to therapy. I still go to therapy to this day. Therapy is really important and beneficial to me, and it has helped me exist in times when it was impossible for me to cope. I believe that medication alone wouldn't have benefitted me as much. Anyhow, after consulting my doctor, I quit antidepressants. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. No exaggeration. I went into a six-week depressive episode. I think, overall, it probably took me about two months to start feeling like myself again, from the moment I completely stopped taking them. But even then, I needed more time to recover. Even now, I'm not sure I've fully recovered, and it's been months. 

But of course, all that wasn't enough. My physical health had to suffer, too. From extremely nasty chest infections (which left my lungs with long-term issues), to an eye injury, to catching the corona virus (omicron, thankfully), to a UTI, to having two surgeries (both of which have been mentally traumatising and the second of which changed my body forever) and complications with the healing of the second one, this has easily been the year when my health has been the most challenged. And I'm still not recovered. I'm still waiting to see how I will heal, and if I will be alright. Which is horrible for anyone, but especially for neurodivergents – who can't deal with ambiguity – it's soul crushing. 

And then, comes the personal stuff. Human relationships are hard. They can be painful. Dealing with rejection sensitivity dysphoria (look it up, it's something a lot of neurodivergents suffer from) whilst going through a depressive episode added another layer of pain and hopelessness. Then, a few incidents where my consent was violated took place really close to each other, and that was extremely difficult to deal with. Those, due to my CPTSD brought some very dark memories to surface. That has been a common theme this year: me being triggered and horrific memories poking through. Not peeking, poking. 

"Some friends are only part of the journey" (tiktok user klane88). When I saw that phrase, I teared up. It is so very true. I have lost a lot of people over the years. I say loss, because that's how I experience it. I go through different stages until I reach acceptance. I get hurt, angry, sad, and then, I move on. This year, again, I lost a few people. Some, I had started losing from years before; some, I lost suddenly, once I realised they were not there for me, when my health was deteriorating. It hurt. Deeply. I support the ones I love, passionately, radically. I don't expect the same level of support, but I would hope for interest and empathy. When I don't get these, things can never go back to how they were before. 

I am also thinking of all the (di)stress and agony I went through, due to this being the second year of my second masters degree: the sleepless nights, the all-nighters, how I managed to submit my dissertation whilst healing from the first surgery... The fact that I signed up for a short course now that I'm healing from the second surgery (whilst I'm still waiting for my dissertation grade)... But, you and I had enough of this. I'm exhausted typing all this negativity. I'm drained feeling it, and seeing it on screen isn't helping.

So, here we are. What I just did is called "anaskopisi" ("ανασκόπηση" /"review"/"retrospection"), of my 33rd year on this planet. 
Did I leave a couple of positive things out? Sure.
Am I feeling negative as fuck at the moment? Sure, I'm going through a depressive episode, after all.
Do I think tomorrow is going to be one of the worst birthdays I've ever had? Absolutely.
I'm not going to be able to celebrate due to health complications, despite buying plane tickets months prior, for the sole purpose of being able to celebrate my birthday - and handing my dissertation - with my friends in my home country.

If I could make a birthday wish this year, it would be to make it to 35 a lot healthier – and maybe a bit happier – than what I am today. 

x

Random Thoughts LXXVIII

Self-love is not linear; things may happen to us which can make it tremendously challenging to practice it.
In those times, self-preservation is enough and it is valid.
Take care x

Random Thoughts LXXVII

When you share with people, be mindful they will project their own issues, ideologies and traumas on you.
This is worth considering before you choose whom to trust your personal information with.