Hyper Focus and what is it? How does it work? And Why RuPaul?

 "Why RuPaul?" 

The question kinda came out of nowhere, but I was hardly surprised. I had been posting a lot of videos of his performances and of his Netflix series AJ and the Queen and his books. But the real question had nothing to do with RuPaul. The real question was why do you always do this--obsess over something new--throw everything into it and then drop it months or years later? And I felt I had an obligation to answer. 

ADHD is a weird thing as I've posted about numerous times in this blog. But there's a superpower in my ADHD that I absolutely love and it is my ability to hyperfocus. Hyperfocus isn't inherently dangerous, although it can be frustrating. It is the ability to focus on one thing for great lengths of time, for blocking everything out except that one thing, learning everything about it, becoming an expert. Wanting to talk about it constantly, to share that burning interest. It's also the ability to block everything out creatively and work on a project without sleeping, without eating, being completely stuck in that brain loop until it's finished. It's why I can write a play or a story in one day or listen to nothing but the same musical artist day in and day out. This can be destructive, the looping can be beyond frustrating and tears inducing because you just can't stop, even when you know you want to or have to. But I think the benefits of hyperfocus far outweigh the dangers. 

So, why RuPaul? I couldn't tell you exactly. Hyperfocus comes out of nowhere. I think it started on Skin Wars and seeing his suits. Then my roommate and I watched Drag Race (which oddly enough isn't my hyperfocus) and I decided I wanted to emulate his style. And that thought was all my brain needed to go into hyperfocus mode. It started with the suits, (I designed and ordered one similar to a picture I saw), then the music, the books, the Netflix series. Then the philosophies and his infectious way, through the written page and through his music, to make me feel like I can accomplish every dream I have. And given what I'm trying to accomplish now, my brain and soul need that push and those roadmaps he weaves in his text and music. 

See, I look at my hyperfocus as a defense mechanism too. My brain inherently knows, it seems, what I need to hyperfocus on. Not feeling creative? Write a play in a day. Manic and need comforting? Jeremy Brett. Feeling stuck in life? Sherlock Holmes. Need a push to go after your dreams? RuPaul. Bored? Let's find something new to become an expert on. Some of these have included magic (I worked as a magician for a while), venomous snakes, the art of lock picking (I don't do this anymore), serial killers, and so many other things. My hyperfocus teaches me new things, which work for me creatively and also give me what I need to survive. 

So, to answer my friend's question, "why RuPaul?" it's just my hyperfocus. He's an awesome role model and stands for a lot, including an impeccable sense of style, and his work is helping me go after everything I want, but at the end of the day, "why RuPaul?" is really why hyperfocus. And all I can say to that question is ADHD and the unique way my brain works, and I'm learning to completely embrace and love it. 

To close with a RuPaul quote: "If you can't love yourself, then how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else." And guess what, my current hyperfocus is helping me to do just that. 

The Media and Mental Illness

This blog started out when a friend of mine recently asked (there will be spoilers): "I know it's old, but have you see Shutter Island?" 

I laughed and said the book was better. But she asked me an interesting follow-up question that I didn't expect. "Is that what it's like? Being Bipolar I mean." 

I was floored. This is a master's degree graduate asking me if delusional Leonardo DeCaprio, running around engulfed in this entire fantasy world, was how I lived my everyday life. I raised my eyebrows. "Why would you think that?" I asked.

"Because movies always show stuff like that and I just want to know if you really live like they show. Because that'd be hard."

"Living with a mental illness-two of them actually for me--is quite hard. But I manage my mental health better than I manage my physical health. I'm on meds, I see my therapist once or twice a week depending, I see my psychiatrist once a month, and I use my coping skills. I don't live in a fantasy world--any psychosis I get I know isn't real and it's from being manic out of my mind for weeks on end which happens rarely. I have a job, a relationship, friends. You're all real." I shrugged. "My therapist just finished telling me that it's only like the smallest percentage of people who get so lost in their delusions that they're stuck in them, but it's so rare and those people are usually medication-resistant in some form or the other."

"Then why do they show it like that almost all the time. Look at Joker, he killed people." 

"Well Joker is different, but I get your point, and I really don't know. I'm going to explore it." 

And here's the exploration. As always, all opinions in this blog are mine and all experiences I speak about are my own.

I think horror sells. And I don't think there's anything more terrifying than losing control of the human mind. Think about it, we need our brains for everything. They house memories, they make sure we can function, they're our source of language and what we do every day. Without our brains, we're nothing. I watched my mom go "brain dead" so I know what losing your mind, literally, looks like from the outside. Function is non-existent--it's almost like you cease to be a person. So I think the concept of losing one's mind through psychology is an easy horror trope because I think, on some level, we all fear it. 

Comedy. We all have quirks and there are painful stereotypes associated with every known psychiatric illness. I'm Bipolar so I must be the crazy bitch that has mood swings constantly and flips out of my mind manic and loses control like multiple times a day. I have ADHD so therefore I must be bouncing off walls with so much energy that it's not manageable. I must've been a failure at school because I just couldn't focus. And there is an element of truth to all these stereotypes, but they're not the full truth. However, they make, I assume for Hollywood, either good comedic fodder or make really "good" "original" character traits. Look at Monk for example with his OCD. Many people don't remember him because of his detective work--they remember him as the quirky detective, even though, from my understanding, OCD is a serious and can be a debilitating psychiatric disorder. 

Some disorders have negative connotations: Schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, DID, to name a few. Because these have such negative connotations, perpetuated by the media, it is easy to make someone suffering from one of them the villain. I was madly in love with someone with DID and I am Bipolar and we made it work as long as we could. We weren't violent, her alters (for the most part) were easy to live with and we went about our merry way. She wasn't violent and didn't turn into a new person every second of every day. In fact there were many days were she was just R.  I'm Bipolar and I think anyone who knows me knows I'm not a violent or homicidal person. (Occasionally suicidal yes, but homicidal no). I have friends who have Schizophrenia--they aren't crazy, they don't live in a delusional world. But it's easy because many people don't know much about these disorders, to turn them into something they're not and to highlight the worst aspects of each disorder to make good entertainment. 

And this is where stigma, perpetuated in many ways by the media, comes into play. In Shutter Island, for example, Leonardo DeCaprio's character was "manic depressive" (the correct term for the time period) or Bipolar as it's now called. He was violent and was completely lost in his delusions. I watched it and I remember going oh my God this sucks for me. People are going to think I'm this way. It's why it took me so long to come out of the closet with mental illnesses. People watch horror movies or movies in general that portray mental illness in a negative light and then start to believe that is what the mental illness is. Those broad strokes, those worse case scenarios while they make good entertainment are detrimental to people like me, who struggle for acceptance and understanding. 

Now, I'm not saying all media portrayals are bad or wrong. Silver Linings Playbook did a great job of showing what a manic episode was like, the potentially disastrous consequences of having Bipolar Disorder, and how when someone tries to understand and accept it makes all the difference in the world.  The movie built real empathy for each character, realistically flawed in their own way. That's more what I like to see. Yes, Bradley Cooper's character is still odd, he still has issues, but his issues are handled in a smart way, a way that can both entertain and educate. Because the biggest weapon we have against stigma is education. 

I'm not saying you can't use psychatric illness in creative ways, many artists, including filmmakers do. I'm not saying you can't make light of mental illness when appropriate. I'm not saying you can even find the joy in mental illness--hell sometimes I love my ADHD and my Bipolar Disorder--sometimes they're my superpower. All of this is valid, and needed even. But what is needed less is stigmatizing by an industry that has a lot of influence over people both young and old, and more realism. More education by showing the harsh reality of having a mental illness and fostering conversation. In summary, less Shutter Island (besides aren't there more creative ways to create monsters and demons than highlighting the worst case scenarios of mental illness--aren't there more creative motives for killers out there than Bipolar Disorder) and more Silver Linings Playbook. 

Reflections on Therapy

My therapist and I had an interesting conversation that led me to reflect on therapy and on the therapists I've had over the years.

One wouldn't treat me because I was a lesbian.

One told me that I secretly wanted to be raped because of some Freudian theory.

One told me with my two disorders, Bipolar I and ADHD, I'd never be able to find a therapist willing or capable of treating me.

And then there's N. who proves time and time again she's there. Either in session or via phone coaching, and I realized one thing: good therapists are rare, and what a therapist says to you has a lasting impression.

Those other therapists made me terrified of therapy and made me feel as though I was the one who was constantly wrong. I've lived a good part of my life disbelieving in therapy, believing medication was the only way to go. N. changed all of that. I now see the value of therapy, of learning skills, and as I was talking to my own therapist, I thought about how my life might've been different if I had met her sooner, or at least had sought therapy sooner.

I reflected on my failed engagement--would that have been different if I had DBT skills? Of my failed attempts at certain jobs--would Emotional Regulation skills have helped me? Of the weight of my rape--would having a safe place to process that over ten years ago have changed the trajectory of my life? N. called those wonderings "perceived hindsight", because "looking back we think there is only choice A and since that was really shitty, choice B must have been perfect. But there's also C, D E through Z choices that you could have made also. She also said: "remember you can't change other people. You can only change yourself."

And she's right of course. But nevertheless, I wondered and still do, if a different therapist at an earlier point in my life would have made a difference. Would I have avoided all those hospitalizations? Or at least some of them? Would my relationships have been better? I don't have an answer, and N. reminded me in the middle of my musings that such ruminations won't help anything.

But still...through N.'s teachings, I finally understand the importance and power of therapy. Of connecting with someone that holds space for you week after week, empathizes with you, helps you work through the most difficult stuff, and teaches you things about yourself you never knew--especially your own strength and inner power. Therapy, when done right, is a beautiful and fulfilling thing, and I've learned so much under N.'s guidance, that I'm actually, for the first time, I'm excited for what the future brings because I'm the most prepared for new challenges than I have ever been in life before.

Online Posts, Canceling Plans, My Struggle is Real

"Stop exaggerating how you feel, I see your Facebook page. You're going out--clearly you're fine." Or: "You seem fine on Facebook." I think you get my point.

What you read, what you see on the internet is not always indicative of my symptoms, of my illnesses, or of my life. Yes, I am fairly open about my mental illnesses, but everything doesn't always go on Facebook. No one would want to read every single time I wake up from a panic attack, or start going manic or have suicidal thoughts. Sometimes, I like to post about the complete opposite--a type of opposite action--to show that I'm 'okay,' which is how I want to be perceived.

I also have a life outside of my mental illnesses, which I like to showcase from time to time. Not all of my posts are about my struggles, a lot of them are about fun things, like my friends, the ridiculousness of my students, Baby Yoda memes, etc. But even that being said, I often get statements such as this:

"You said you were too sick to go out. But you went to work--I saw you posted a student interaction." Yes, I often go to work, like most other people, when I feel like garbage. I don't always choose to post how miserable I feel--again I try to choose to post something funny that's happened. Hell, if I used a sick day every time my mental health was off, I would have been out of them in September. When I cancel plans, I've canceled them for a reason.

Sometimes I need a night of self-care just to help me regroup from the day or the week. Sometimes, I cannot physically stand being in a group of people because I've used all my energy for that during my workday. Sometimes my emotional reserves are out and if I don't cancel the chances of me flipping to either manic or depressed are really good. I tend to use "I don't feel too hot" as a catch-all because that is always true. I often have great friends who will follow up and ask what's wrong, then I'll give more details. But just because I don't feel well enough to keep plans, doesn't mean I don't feel well enough to share a Baby Yoda meme or a picture from perhaps the night before when I did feel good.

With any illness and any mental illness, things can change on a dime. I can be ready to run to keep any kind of plans, and then my brain or body says NOPE! Then I have to scramble. Can I use skills? Will these skills make it possible for me to go and just be late? Or can I just not do this right now because continuing on this path will cause me to go into some kind of spiral? My fingers hesitate always above the keypad to send a text, and I start to shake, and start to cry. Every. Single. Time. Trust me, I get just as frustrated as everyone else, I feel completely worthless and angry at myself. In fact I hate myself. But sometimes, I need to act in my best interest, and then I feel selfish, like I've failed because it feels like I'm not taking into consideration everyone else's feelings. So I send the text and anxiously await the response. Trust me, I read more into "Okay," than most people could. And sometimes I'll post something funny or an event that happened just to take my mind off, just to make me feel normal, just to make me still feel like part of a group and not the outcast I feel like I am.

So please, before you judge me, or anyone else, on posts, or canceling plans, or the discrepancy that is often between the two, take a second to think. Could this person be having an off night that they don't want the world to see, but posting something "positive" instead to try and feel better, or let the world think they're doing okay? Instead of judging, send a follow-up text or email, just checking in. I know I'd feel a lot less awful and a lot less judgy of myself. Empathy goes a long way in life, and it needs to include mental illness as well as physical illness.

Aren't Therapy Sessions Private? Then Why Post About Them?

I had a very interesting conversation with a friend of mine about therapy. She's not an advocate of it and believes I can be better healed by going outside into nature--listen to music, go for a run, that sort of thing. She went on for a bit of a ramble about Freud and sex, and all that stuff, and I just let her talk. When she finally paused, she looked at me and said: "Besides, aren't therapy sessions private? So why do you post about yours?"

That's a good question, and it was one that I had to think about before I answered. I told her I'd put my answer in this blog, because I needed time to fully articulate my thoughts.

Did you know that when you google therapy, 2,050,000,000 hits come up? I didn't either until I started writing this. I surfed through a number of hits, on various pages, (not all two billion so I'm certain I missed a lot of information), and I saw three main motifs: pro therapy, anti-therapy, and a mix of pro and anti with a strong focus on doing other things instead--yoga, breathing, etc. I saw posts that spoke about the pros and cons of Freud, that demonized and praised CBT and DBT, and a host of definitions, opinions and alternatives. There were not a lot of personal posts, especially posts that gave a sneak peek into a client-therapist interaction. (Many of the ones who did were negative). Some also gave a theoretical, but not personal, look into it, discussing the potential leather couch (I'm not knocking psychoanalysis, I've heard it works well for some people).

So, like with everything else in my blog, I like to give a window into my journey, into my therapist appointments and conversations, to not only see some of the stuff I deal with, but also to show that not all therapy is a cut and dry, leather couch with a blank slate therapist. I'm not saying my therapist is the world's greatest, but for what I need right now, she's a rockstar and the best for me. She's human, she shares things with me, I feel cared for as a person, she challenges and tests me, she pushes me, but also supports me and is one of my biggest cheerleaders. She gives me a space every week to be me, fully present, fully Kelley without masks and without a role to play. She's compassionate, sarcastic, friendly without us ever being friends, and she helps me untangle the biggest puzzle of my life--me.

My posts allow others to take a peek into this private world--to see another part of mental health treatment that isn't always readily accessible unless you're in the room, to quote the musical Hamilton, where it happens. Yes, all our session work is private, along with all of our emails and texts. I very rarely use my therapist's name, never state where she works, and I never discuss the heart of our sessions--everything I say stays firmly between us (you can see how heavily I've edited out the personal stuff within this post). But I do post moments that are meaningful and highlight the triumphs and compassion that I sometimes find in our work.

So I hope I have answered why I often post about my experiences in therapy to social media. I want to give a window into all facets of my journey, allow for a glimpse of the client-therapist therapeutic relationship, celebrate my own successes and sometimes failures, and also to continue to break the stereotypes that surround mental illness. Going to therapy is no different than going to a doctor for a cold. I hope, in my own little way, that my posts, and this blog, help to normalize that idea.

If you are contemplating therapy, I urge you to do your homework, research types of therapies and therapists and find one that is right for you. Most importantly, don't give up. If you don't click with one therapist, you will click with another. Therapy is hard work, but the results are well worth it. Trust me, I wouldn't be here without it.

Why Am I so Open About my Mental Health?

"Why are you so open about your mental health?" It's a question I get fairly often from friends, and also from people I don't necessarily know that well. I've even gotten facebook messages from well-meaning people asking this question with a follow up: "Why are you so open about your mental health? You shouldn't be. Aren't you worried your job will find out, or that you'll never get another girlfriend or you'll lose friends?" 

The truth is, I have not always been open at all with my mental health. In fact, I was more closeted with that than I ever was with my own sexuality, and anyone who knows me well can attest that I was pretty deep in that one too. For a number of years, no one knew about my Bipolar I and my ADHD diagnoses, including my own family. I held that secret like it was the most shameful thing, and kept it hidden. No one knew about my suicide attempts, or my doctor's visits, or my endless supply of ever-changing medication. 

I used to hide my medication like it was some kind of illegal contraband. I remember going out with friends, my pills wrapped in a tiny piece of foil stuffed in my pocket. Surreptitiously, I'd peek at my phone, and then at the right time, I'd disappear into the bathroom and toss down my meds with tap water from a bathroom sink. I'd be sick almost immediately after because they were not taken correctly at all, but at least they were taken and I could fight through the sickness. Bipolar Disorder is frequently stigmatized in the media, and I did not want to lose friends because I was "crazy."

If you've ever been in a closet for any length of time, you know that there is nothing more exhausting than hiding who you really are. And I too felt that fatigue and broke down my lesbian closet door. The mental health one, though, was still firmly locked. More people knew than when I was first diagnosed, but it was still a shameful secret. Something to be feared instead of embraced, or at the very least understood. 

And to be fair, if shit didn't hit the fan this summer, I don't know if the psychiatric closet door would have ever been smashed down. But now that it has, I feel better about myself than I have in years. I can admit why I don't feel well, instead of having to create and then remember some insane lie. I can freely advocate for myself, I can explain to friends when I need to cancel a plan, instead of lying. And I can say "Tuesdays and Wednesdays generally are hard for me because I have a therapist appointment." The fact I no longer have to lie is a great weight lifted off my shoulders, and the fact that I finally accept what I have, has been more liberating than anything. I can finally admit when something is off, but I can finally celebrate the successes I have made. I graduated Gen Psych, and posted a blog and Facebook post about it. I never would have done that a year ago. I would have been too terrified. But even before I started seeing N. as an outpatient, she said something that stuck with me and prompted my coming out, so to speak. "Even flatworms have judgments. Everyone will have a judgment. The question is, do you let those judgments define you?"

And I did, for far too many years. But I am doing so no longer. So when you ask me am I afraid--the answer is no. Stigma will always be there, but that does not define me. I'm good at my job (at least I like to think so, and the kids more or less seem to be learning), and my diagnoses do not impact that. I push through bad days for my kids, same as every other teacher. Am I afraid to lose friends? No, not any more. I've got an amazing group, and if you want to leave because of my diagnosis, then I don't need you in my life.  Am I afraid that I'll never have another girlfriend? No, I think somewhere out there, if it's meant to be, there's someone who will love and accept me for who I am, Bipolar and ADHD included. 

It's not easy breaking out of a closet, especially in a world like ours, full of stigma and judgment. And I more than understand that. But breaking out has allowed me, for the first time in 33 years, to say and own my own name: Kelley Blessing. Because for the first time, I fully accept my medical condition, that it's part of but not all of who I am, and I know that Kelley Blessing is far more incredible than her diagnosis. If you are willing to look beyond it, no doubt you'll see that too. 

I promised I wouldn't preach in this blog, and I'm not. But I will end this entry with a word of advice. If you ever find yourself trapped in a closet, think long and hard about why you are there. Know that you are an incredible person, and don't let any closet doors shut out your light. In time, when you are ready, break that door down, realize the amazing person that you are and proudly let others see that too. That is my wish for you. 

Teaching with ADHD

I have been asked many times by friends and other people: "How do you teach with severe ADHD? It must be hard holding any job, but teaching you need to be so on things." So, I've decided to write a blog post dedicated to that topic. I'm going to preface it by saying this is MY experience, I cannot and would not ever speak for other teachers with ADHD. My blog, my personal experience. That being said...YES IT IS VERY HARD!!! But also is VERY AWESOME!

See, I love teaching and I love my current district and job. So I'm motivated to do well, I want to get rehired, and most importantly I want to show up every day and be the best possible teacher I can be for my students and to continue to inspire them in theatre.  That being said, I also know from years of teaching and dealing with my brain, that there are a lot of challenges I need to deal with on a daily basis that some other teachers don't. That's cool. I'm not jealous, we all have our own little invisible backpacks, but I just know I need to work harder than sometimes I'd like. How do I do it? Here're the steps:


First...my therapist is beyond amazing. I met N. this summer, there are other blog posts describing that, but I told her when I first graduated IOP and she agreed to take me on as an outpatient client, that I wanted to "get it right, be successful, and be a rockstar teacher." Challenge, on her end, was accepted. She quickly realized organization and routine were non-existent in my life and would be an uphill struggle. Enter: Our three-step organizational planner. We both know I'm busy, we both acknowledge I'm busy with more than just teaching. And this planning system helps. I spit draft ALL THE THINGS that are on my plate, and then through the new few pages, narrow ALL THE THINGS into four to five manageable goals, and a very simple and easy to meet daily To-Do List. This is literally something we've stuck in a binder, what teacher doesn't have a million binders, I keep it open on my desk, and reference it throughout the day. It keeps me on task knowing what it is I need to actively get done.

Two: Routine. I'm bad at this--so bad in fact that I have multiple post-its from N. all over the walls of my room. Bedtime routines so I can get at least four hours of sleep, morning routines, med routines, medication alarms in my phone, class schedule alarms in my phone, laundry routines--if there is a routine in life, I guarantee N. has thought of it and created it for me and stuck it on a post-it. These Post Its are hung around my room and not only can I keep up with everyday tasks, but I can get out of the house on time without leaving things behind (well mostly. My wallet still does get forgotten). My roommate who is also one of my best friends has also jumped on the N. train and gave me a designated spot in our apartment for my wallet and keys. (I'm proud to say they make it there 85% of the time).

Three: Disclosing and being open with my immediate supervisor. This sucked to do, but I tend to get overwhelmed with tasks I don't fully understand, and that's generally how I get myself in trouble. So, after talking it over with N. I decided to "come clean" and disclose my ADHD diagnosis. It has worked wonders. I'm more successful in faculty meetings now that my ADHD behaviors are known,  it's been easier to schedule multiple meetings to break down complex tasks into easier to understand pieces, I have a chance to fix disorganized paperwork, and the general check-ins have been amazing. It's nice to hear someone say: "The kids love you and your class. Thanks for telling me. We can both do our parts to ensure you're as successful as possible."

Four: In school friends, and a support system. My colleagues are FANTASTIC! In my last school I only made one incredible friend (yes, we're still friends even though we are in different district-she keeps me sane). But here, I really fit with the staff. I have made a ton of friends, and they are all beyond incredible. They know what's up with me, and we all help each other out. It's really a school where teamwork makes the dreamwork. We go out, we hang out at work, we jump on each other's projects to help, we share resources, and we keep each other sane during faculty meetings (I even share my self soothe kit and fidgets so we can all survive). I wouldn't be nearly as successful without them.

Five: Always knowing what I have to do ahead of time. I know myself. I know I forget everything, even if it's on my To-Do list. So, things I know must always be done, I set my own deadline. All of my lesson plans must be done by EOD Thursday, with no exceptions. This way, I can assure myself, that I will not forget about them over the weekend. I also have time, then, if I managed to forget! N. calls it a "Cope ahead" skill. I call it: "Trying not to screw myself over." Both the same thing.

Six: Incorporate things I learned in therapy into every lesson I can. Doing acting--Emotional Regulation! Kids are being hyper--Mindfulness! Can't decide on a play topic? Walking the Middle Path. Tempers flaring? TIPP. By doing this, I have given myself tools that I can automatically depend on to help me out, and my kids have adapted to them and like using them. They like the DBT method of accessing emotions, they enjoy TIPP and they sometimes ask for a minute of mindfulness before or after class. They have also grown accustomed to me having fidgets, which they use during class if they're finding their own attention wavering or if they're struggling to sit still. We have a fidget culture which is awesome!

Speaking of students, seven: My students. They motivate me more than anything or anyone else. They come every day ready to do their best, and so how can I not do mine? If they bring their best, how can I not bring my own? N. suggested that when I'm having a rough day, to be open with them, and I have. I'll tell the kids, "I'm giving you the heads up. I'm having a really bad day today, just like you have really bad days sometimes. You can call me out if I'm being grumpy, but I'm just letting you know and asking for a little bit of understanding." And they are absolutely fantastic! Now they're more inclined to tell me when things are off with them, and in doing so, I've finally managed to create the ensemble feel in my classroom that I've always wanted. Together, we've been able to create a safe, brave, space with support and empathy.

So there you have it. How do I teach with ADHD? A ton of supports, love of my job, and a ton of GRIT, TIPP and DBT skills. I hope this post gave you some insight into my life as a teacher with ADHD and some of the struggles and rewards.