I've asked myself this question a thousand times, and I'm finally able to say, "I'm being me."
Gone are the days of trying to mask so hard that I make myself sick physically and spiritually. Welcome are the days when I just accept myself wholly and try to understand myself better on all facets of my spectrum.
I'm learning more about myself, and it is with a deep excitement and almost a kid-like glee I do this for myself. I am FINALLY able to be me. I am finally allowed to accept myself for the possibilities of who I am, and I am able to discover those without asking permission but rather by giving myself permission.
I truly wonder if this is what happiness feels like?
What I'm Not Doing Here Is:
Bashing myself for not being "enough" and bashing my past for the events that have happened or the people that were part of those experiences, but I will be processing some of those experiences openly. I won't be making fun of the Neurodivergent, but I will at times make fun of myself because...humour. My sense of humour and how I love myself through tough times. I'm also not taking photos and editing them to the point my soul bursts into flames because I can't get it "right" I'm using stock photos and always doing my best to give credit to the artist.
What's Next?
Hang with me while I navigate the process of discovering if I actually have ADHD on a clinical level (is that the right word?); it hasn't been confirmed, but I've taken all of the ADHD Foundation Quizzes, the DSM-5 assessment and the DIVA2 assessment, I've made a list of all the characteristics I had a child and as an adult and MANY of them are characteristics of humans with ADHD - more specific to women. Who would have thought it? HA!
Also, getting 100% of my mobility back. 14 weeks after a major procedures hysterectomy and I'm still trying to navigate my new body and ALL of it's weird feels.
Doing My Best
I want you to know that I'm not a professional writer. I skipped Grade 3 language studies FREQUENTLY. Sentence structuring (among other things) were attempting to destroy me, and so off I went to the sick bay for a week. I thought no one would notice. Boy, was I wrong. Worksheet after worksheet was sent home for additional work. All of which I never ever did. I still can't structure I do consider myself a professional creative, though. From my early years on a farm in the Ozark Mountains putting on my own theatre productions to the audience of one, Me, to the mixed media artist I left my well-paying job for to do on a permeant basis. I won't be perfect because perfection procrastination paralysis is real things and I'll do my very best not to cry when I write some of these posts because surgical menopause is also a real thing and sometimes it completely BLOWS.
You Should Also Know
I'm here under a pen name, a nom de plume, a sobriquet. While I'm willing to share a lot of open information putting myself out there and slapping my name feels ultra vulnerable. When I'm ready to share all of me, you'll be the first to know.
And I'm practicing the "done is better than perfect" in my life. Because it's about time.
My Promise
I promise to do my best, spell check, show up at least once a month and write from my heart.
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