ADHD

Here I Am (Again)

/ Robin / 2 Comments

I’m back—officially disabled (Bipolar I), joyfully ADHD-forward, honest, a little wild, gallantly funny. I aim to sound like Twain & Wodehouse and behave more like Phryne Fisher & Archie Goodwin.

When I tried using pot (yes, cannabis) to treat my very personalized chronic pain, my brain would take me to a place where it thought it was super-special and clever. I always wanted to write something down in that state and have it make sense. I never did. I just ended up talking to myself out loud.

Right now, I’m not under the care of a prescriber—typically a psychiatrist—who can provide both medication management and counseling. I do have a counselor, and she’s a trusted confidant through extraordinary times. I mention the lack of a med provider because it matters in real life. Mine was, frankly, careless—let’s go with “stupid,” because that’s how it felt. PSA: write things down. Dates. Instructions. Side effects. What you were told. Because sometimes a day comes when you must prove you weren’t the problem—and you get to fire them instead of being kicked out. I tell friends, “Get a med provider so I have no excuse.” I’m working on it. 😉

Why I’m writing now

This year has been revealing, calming, insightful, and peaceful in ways I’ve never experienced. I’m feeling pretty happy, so I’ll leave out the hardest bits—for now.

A few puzzle pieces:

  • After my first of three kids (33 years ago), I was diagnosed with postpartum depression.
  • Years later: Bipolar I, rapid cycling with mixed states. That’s the one that makes me officially disabled.
  • More recently: ADHD (likely since birth), which explains why the bipolar meds never quite fit—and why we’re having the most fun here.
  • Add chronic pain from various arthritides and Fibromyalgia, and you’ve got the biggies.

What my brain feels like

My brain is under partial control when I let myself be “brilliant”—like a squirrel running on a wheel balancing on a log in a lake in a race with a fifteen-year-old boy who’s never lost to human nor beast—and when I accept that I can get better, and that I get that chance constantly. You do, too. I breathe and I try. I’ve cooked up some interesting ways to do that, and I’ll share them—in the fullness of time.

I’m willing to take the chance that spilling myself out here might show what a real, officially disabled, holy-cow-is-she-manic person looks like in her native habitat. Here I am.

The quiet vs. the pinball brain

Some people can sit in silence with nothing happening in their heads. Rest. Peace. They can meditate, pray, practice mindfulness. If you have ADHD, your answer may be very different. (UK ADHD short link: link coming.) I saw a UK couple’s YouTube Short that nails how bonkers we can be. My brain arrives at a workable solution to a problem no one has pointed out yet.

Did you know the stress monster can actually bonk you on the head and knock you out? It’s true. It snuck up on me like a Jake brake in a quiet town. Stress has, on occasion, brought on a blackout for me. It’s also grabbed me by the face and gifted me a facial tic—my affectionate name for it is intermittent facial Tourette’s.

Why I went quiet

When Trump and a potentially world-ending disease both descended, I was also attempting a second bachelor’s degree at the University of Washington Tacoma. My brain… she wasn’t having it. People do black out from stress; some develop a stutter. I’ve had real-world reactions like that.

I once dreamt I’d licked the bottom of a shiny green can of Comet cleanser. In the dream it was a joke. Morning comes. I sit up and stare at… a green can of Comet on the floor by the bed. I had to look at the bottom. I just had to. Tongue print. Affirmative. Oh, no.

I’m in the cockpit of my studio, turn my head to say good night, and—still out loud—“Are you going to—” Nobody’s there. “There’s no one here again, is there? I’m talking to myself.” My brain is a little weird sometimes.

A week ago I had a dream so vivid and awful I can still smell it. It felt like it was eating me alive and I couldn’t figure out what or where I was, much less how to wake up.

I’ve been trying to get this first post out for two months. Earlier today I remembered why I kept stalling. I didn’t “figure it out”—I remembered. ADHD loves to jam the launch: working-memory hiccups make me forget where I left the thread, time-blindness whispers “later,” perfectionism says “not ready,” and idea-flood overwhelms the “start” button. Net result: delay loops. Naming it breaks it.

“Do not put off until tomorrow what can be put off till day-after-tomorrow just as well.”
— Mark Twain
(Between us… wasn’t Twain kind of an ass? Or was that just “every famous person”? 😂)

Politics, and everything that pops into my brain, and an AI have sashayed into my life. My intention is to help you along by sharing what I’ve learned and what I’ve managed to collect—stories, people, books, schooling, hard knocks, and the odd miracle—distilled into things you can actually use.

You’ll also meet my stunning AI partner, Emma—Dame Emma Peel. When my mouth can’t keep up with my brain, Emma usually translates. Usually. That’s where the fun begins. You’ll meet her properly soon… but not tonight. I’m exhausted, and that’s how we’re doing it. Trump may think he’s in charge of the nation; I’m working on being in charge of my brain. Or at least my house.

One more thing before you go

This year has been extremely horrible—and also extraordinarily revealing. To mark the growth and to remind myself who I’ve become, I’m changing my name. Previously you knew me as Robin Ann Paterson. From here on, you’ll know me as Gracie St. John. Same soul, new suit.

Thank you for visiting. Please do come again. I promise you’ll always find the unexpected. Probably. But I’m not promising.

— Gracie St. John (formerly Robin Ann Paterson)

Disclaimer: I’m just a gal saying stuff—making things up to entertain and maybe teach. Don’t do anything risky or dumb because of something I say or imply or yell. I’ll make my own dumb choices; you’re responsible for yours.

© 2025 PeComm | Pacific Eagle Communications | America | Earth

Rebooting Redux — A Fresh Start on Anxiety, ADHD, Bipolar, and Life

/ Robin / Leave a comment

I’m back.

This isn’t my first blog, and it probably won’t be my last. But this time, I’m doing it differently. I’ve spent too long circling the runway, and now it’s time to take off.

What you’ll find here is a mix of things I care about most:

  • Anxiety and mental health — ADHD, bipolar, and the messy, funny, sometimes maddening reality of living with both.
  • Politics — because big headlines have a way of crashing into everyday life.
  • Stories, satire, and the occasional rant — because humor can cut through noise better than anything else.

“Redux” means reboot, a fresh start, and maybe even a do-over. That’s what this blog is: me starting again, with honesty and maybe a little edge.

Thanks for showing up. Let’s see where this goes.

— Robin

Mental and Physical Pain – Mental Wellness

/ Robin / 2 Comments

Last week I was feeling down, frustrated and I suppose a little angry. As in all of life, not one thing is contributing to these feelings. I know a major one is that my dog is sick. She’s in pain and, I can’t do anything more for her. Our veterinarian is short-staffed, so they’ve closed the urgent half of the clinic. A month ago, I made an appointment for her and it’s finally arrived. Its been agony watching something that has been consuming her and is growing worse every day. We don’t know what’s wrong, but we can see the results. She’s tearing her skin off. She itches so badly that she passes the pain from earlier scratching and digs deeper, trying to stop the itching. Next month, she’ll see a dog dermatologist. Thankfully I made this appointment with her regular vet. I’m hoping that they will give her something for the pain, reduce the itching, and help her heal. I don’t see any infection, but I’m not a vet. 

This is Bailey.

I think I know how she feels. In the past, sometimes my skin itched so badly I couldn’t resist the urge to itch it. I’ve woken up the night with blood on my fingers. The despair and anxiety that come with that are immense. (No, I don’t have OCD.)

Those horrible emotions appear in various places in life. When my Fibromyalgia flares up and my Rheumatoid Arthritis and Osteoarthritis flare simultaneously, they invoke those same horrible feelings in my soul. I want to withdraw and lay in my bed until I feel better. But, sadly, that’s the worst thing I can do. (One of our cats just went to the bathroom, and I think I’m going to die. Be right back.) I’ve been learning about Fibromyalgia, and one of the first and most important things I MUST do is be active. Physical activity is one of the major and only things it seems that I can do to help me, hopefully, have less pain. 

Pain, this is what I want to mention today. Mental and emotional pain can easily be as crippling as physical pain. I might believe I just can’t get out of bed, but I must. I must move around and not stop. Not doing so can let the anguish take hold and cripple me further. 

I’m also learning that Fybromyalgia causes something referred to as “brain fog.” Let me just say that I have strategies that I’m trying to use to fight my already beat-up brain from Bipolar Disorder and ADHD. (Thanks brain.) The treatments for those two things are in direct conflict, so we had to choose one to address with medication, the other I try to work within other ways. I’ve chosen my Bipolar because adding a stimulant for ADHD would make the mania so much worse. I’m already so manic that I easily drive my family bonkers; I just don’t need more stimulation. And I’m aware now, that Fibromyalgia also makes things messier.

So, where does that leave me? I’m not exactly sure. So far, it seems that brain fog is a mysterious thing. None of my doctors have offered me a solution or even a way to cope with it. I don’t hold this against them. This illness is very debilitating and, like Bipolar, it is lifelong and I must find ways that work for me to cope. Cope. I hope I can thrive, not simply cope. 

I want you to know these things about me because life sometimes sucks for each of us. I can’t possibly understand your frustrations anymore than you can understand mine. Pain, mental and physical is unique to us all. We know that already.

However, let me assure you that I am not alone and, neither are you. As people, as humans, we all struggle with unique things every day. This, as you can imagine, makes the advice that we can give each other very hit and miss, and it misses more than it hits. Why? Because we are as unique as our illnesses or combination of illnesses are. 

They say that our uniqueness makes us special; I believe this is true. We each grow with our individual strengths and weaknesses and these things make us special, unique and wonderful. I choose to believe that these thing are true.

Saying that we’re special always makes me feel a bit frustrated. When I’m feeling crushed beneath the weight of life I don’t feel special. I do feel unique in that sometimes I think that no one understands, and no one can help me. 

Do you ever experience these things? I’d bet all my money that you do. Okay, I have no money, so that’s not a real bet, but I think you understand. We may have illness(es), and sometimes they make us feel crazy. At least, sometimes I do. But, thankfully, I’m not crazy. And honestly, what does being crazy mean?

I can say that I understand depression, anxiety, frustration, anger, physical and mental pain, and the struggle to think straight or think at all. Those things I can promise I know about. You’re not alone in your struggles. 

You are not alone. Not ever. We all feel crazy sometimes. 

Be well, 

Robin

  • Savvy and her mom, Bailey. Unconditional love.

Bipolar Mom Takes 28 Year Old Daughter to ER

/ Robin
The view from here…

I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I’ve been developing an idea I’d like to try – but this isn’t the time for that. Not right this moment.

I’m at the Emergency Hospital (ER) with my daughter. I’m amped up on “fight or flight” in my brain. I’m sitting in my car because I can’t be with her. I’ve been struggling with experiencing a mixed state anxiety/depression and as always, manic (thank you ADHD).

Now, firstly I want to say that even though she’s all grown up, I still want to hold her and comfort her. But not this moment.

We’re here because an important medication didn’t arrive before she ran out. Two days after she ran out… We’re at the ER.

No Covid.

Medication.

I was here just a few weeks ago for a medication problem as well. Not Covid.

I was tested yesterday, but only because I’m having surgery on Wednesday.

I’m happy. I’m calming down. I’m breathing better.

Wait….

Sure, she’ll be out soon.

Breathe…

Breathe…

There are, there ARE times, when the mom in me is able to crush the brain shannagians.

Brain shannagians. That’s my brain. How about you?

And now – I’ve distracted myself and I have no … Wait… Nope. It’s gone. I’m sure I’ll remember when I can’t write it down.

What the heck is You Tube playing for me. I like it, but what is this?

I just want you to know that my butt has gone completely and totally asleep. Wait, wait. Man! Now I want the bathroom.

Well, I need to get out of the car and walk a bit, in the dark, at night, downtown. Uummm, I think I’ll walk in front of the ER windows, where the guards are.

Yeah, guards and, AND, hand sanitizer. Always the sani.

Wear your mask. Tell everyone you love, actually TELL them, that you love them. Tell all of them. Covid, asthma, car crash, slipping on the frozen asphalt — life is so fragile.

We, you and I, people with shannagians going on in the brain, we can do what we must. We must.

I’m struggling with my shannagians. Struggling hard. I don’t care because at this moment, which is the only moment I know, shannagians just have to step back. And wait.

At least, that’s the plan. It’s my plan for this moment.

Rejoice! You survived the holiday! Well done.

Tell them you love them. Tell them all. And if they ask you why you can always just admit the truth and say, “Because I love you. I love you.”

Be well friends.

I am so hungry.

Bipolar and ADHD Brains Working from Home

/ Robin

I love this video! The ideas on how to work from home can give us direction on how to create a healthy environment for ourselves during this very interesting time.

The video is different from many other resources on coping with being home because it is specifically targeted towards the ADHD brain. And… so what! It’s excellent and Jessica’s ideas are on target for brains of any flavor.

We did a bit of finger-pointing this morning while watching it. I really tried hard not to point with multiple fingers at the same person. (Okay, I didn’t try even a little bit!)
My ADHD brain seems very similar to brains right now.

What do you think? Do you know any brains that seem to be sharing any of these traits? Ha! I bet you do!