Showing posts with label twenty somethings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label twenty somethings. Show all posts

Monday, November 11, 2013

If You Keep Eating Like That, No One Will Love You

Oh. My. Gosh. Do I mean this. Not the quality, quantity, or frequency of which you eat, because, let's be real, I have no room to talk. Not any of that, but how loudly you choose to do this. At least around me. That's my real issue here.

Fun fact: I have misophonia. What exactly is misophonia, you ask? Misophonia, as defined by Wikipedia (a totally reliable source), "is a neurological disorder in which negative experiences are triggered by specific sounds." Boom. That's it, really. And an individual's reaction (disgust, anger, fight, flight, whatever) to his or her specific trigger really sets the tone for the day. My typical reaction is disgust, so if you ever see me with a look on my face like you are the most repugnant person in the world, it's totally not your fault; I'm just reacting to one of my triggers. Unless you're Glenn Beck. Then you are, undisputedly, the most repugnant.

Triggers range from person to person. DISCLAIMER: IF YOU HAVE MISOPHONIA, STOP READING RIGHT NOW AND SCROLL DOWN. I'M GOING TO LIST MY TRIGGERS, AND I DON'T WANT TO PUT YOU THROUGH ANY MORE ANGUISH THAN WHAT IS DEALT IN EVERYDAY LIFE.


My triggers specifically are: eating noises of any kind, swallowing, drinking noises, pen clicking, sniffling, that tiny smacking noise that some people make when they're talking, repetitive consonants (mostly s sounds), chewing ice, and weird visual stimuli like fidgeting with papers.



Thanks, Chandler.


MISOPHONIA SUFFERERS, COME BACK IN. Welcome.

Okay, imagine you hate the sound of people eating. Not just a dislike, but blood boiling hatred. And every time someone does that around you, it's the equivalent of someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard. And now it's not just eating, it's also the sound of the other triggers I listed. Almost 10 different things a person can do can send you into a fit. The chances of someone activating one of your triggers is incredibly high. And remember, not only do strangers do this, but so do the people you love. Essentially every person with whom you come into contact will make your skin crawl. Imagine that every single day of your life. The constant frustration is enough to drive me to tears, but then again, I'm a baby.

The frustration I feel with myself is pretty constant, considering I get so angry with the people so close to me over something they probably don't realize is killing me. I have no blame for these people, I'm aware it's all me and my hypersensitive brain. The thought of me killing my relationships because of this disorder absolutely terrifies me. What if I miss out on a killer opportunity because I couldn't look at a potential employer because they were fidgeting and had dry mouth? What if I disregard Mr. Right because he has a cold? Like I said, terrifying.

I don't want to be the social pariah because I lashed out at someone who had triggered my reaction. The pain inflicted by this disorder often goes unnoticed or is disregarded, while the sufferers are being told to simply "get over it." Those triggers aren't just annoying; they do mold how I react to a day.  If my happiness and comfort is dependent on me avoiding being around someone who on the off chance might breathe, there's something wrong. I'm just saying we need to raise awareness of this disorder. Until I heard the word, I thought I was hypercritical of everyone. Now I know I'm just nutso. Haha, just kidding. It can be difficult and overwhelming, and I do apologize in advance if something does trigger while I'm around you. Just giver me a moment, and I'll be back in no time.


Also, I do apologize for the nature of this post. It's been a very long/tough weekend, and this topic has been heavy on my mind as of late. I've wanted to blog about it for a while, but I could never bring myself to do it. I really hope I've condensed it so people could understand the frustration and hurt that go along with misophonia. Thanks for putting up with this semi-ranty post. Love you guys.

Monday, September 23, 2013

An Open Letter to Ed Helms

Everyone I know is married or engaged. Okay. Not everyone, but can't a girl be dramatic every once in a while? Absolutely.

If they aren't married, they're off on fabulous adventures. And I'm left here wondering who wants to crochet with me. The fact that I'm a 68-year-old woman in a 23-year-old's body has to have something to do with it. Or the fact that the thing I'm currently most passionate about is which type of hot sauce will taste best on my popcorn.

I actually posted something about this on Facebook earlier this week (hot sauce and everyone getting engaged. yes, same post), raising the rhetorical question* of when will I find someone I can be excited about and if that person does, indeed, exist. 1. Stop it, pervs. It's not like that. 2. No, I'm not bitter; I'm quite happy for all of them. Scout's honor. Perhaps I'm just antsy because a lot of my friends from high school and college have found someone like that, or at least a temp that has the possibility of a full-time job and further advancement with the company. . .wait, what?

The way I see it, if I don't feel like a relationship is going to go anywhere, or if I'm not excited about the prospect of being in that relationship, it's not fair to the other person for me to waste their time or emotions. I'd expect someone to be that fair with me. I swear I'm not a cynic, just a realist. So it goes, right? This whole post actually makes me seem like a really awful, horrible, bitter human being, but I really do have a good outlook on all of this. I'm planning a beautiful wedding ceremony for my cats, so I have that. I'm totally kidding. But not really. Kidding. Maybe not? We'll see. I'll keep you posted.

And who knows? Maybe my future husband is reading this right now. Maybe there's someone out there actively looking for a sarcastic, crocheting, guitar playing, crafting, filthy liberal woman muddling her way through life with misophonia. Maybe his name is Ed Helms. And maybe he'll contact me through one of my various social media sites. A girl can dream. In the mean time, just to clarify in case there's any confusion, I'm fine doing me for a while.

Mandatory "I'm in a really good place right now and it probably has something to do with this" selfie
The cool thing about being single is that you don't need to rely on anyone else to make you happy, and honestly, you shouldn't be relying on anyone else to make you happy ever. My opinion. You can do whatever the hell you want. My vision of this idealistic relationship is that someone is just as thrilled as you are to be doing those same things regardless of how unfathomably geeky that activity is. With you even. Is that a big part of it? Sure, why not.

The ball is in your court, Mr. Helms.

*Any of you looking to answer this rhetorical question: I hope you step in dog poop every day for the rest of your life. I could not be more serious. Cut it out.

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Things I Thought I'd Have By My Twenties

I believe adulthood is some sort of construct placed in our minds by our parents when we're young. "BRITNI NICOLE, YOU ACT YOUR AGE," was heard countless times in my childhood, but I'm not even sure what that means. What 8-year-old chooses to be a stuffy brat? What 25/35/55/85-year-old chooses to be a stuffy brat? When does adulthood happen? Does God have feet? What the hell is the stock market? I just have so many questions. . . 
I think technically/legally/whatever I am one, but I don't feel like it. As far as I'm concerned, I will sit at the kids table for eternity, and that's totally cool. Because I think everyone else has a skewed perception on what it means to be an adult. Just me? Fair enough.

           The following is a list (I love lists) I have compiled of things I thought I'd have by my twenties, and so far, at 23, I don't.

Things I Thought I'd Have By My Twenties
(but definitely don't)

  1. Acceptance into a Master's Program
  2. A larger video game collection
  3. A relationship moving towards the idea of marriage
  4. A better understanding of life, the universe, and everything
  5. A swanky apartment with chic leather furniture
  6. A meaningful career as a rock star/archaeologist/illustrator/dinosaur
  7. More tattoos
  8. The ability to make myself presentable
  9. The skills of a witty conversationalist
  10. A grip on reality via Cosmo and my Twitter feed
  11. The closet of a responsible adult
  12. A working definition of the words "responsible" and "adult"
  13. More guitars
  14. More Twitter followers ahahaaha
  15. A really awesome MySpace page
  16. The ability to stifle childish laughter brought on by anything remotely sexual
  17. The experience of beating Donkey Kong 64
  18. A home bar and library
  19. No student debt
  20. Money
  21. Self-control when it comes to chocolate
  22. Social skills
  23. Dignity

Thirty's a way off. . .maybe by then. Until December of 2019, I'll be the one at the kids table with black olives on her fingers, Kool-aid moustache on her face, and a plate full of snickers salad. Don't you judge me.