Jelly on a plate

The Wibbles

My dudes, my pals. I’m so much better than I was. Yet I’m in that post viral fatigue hellscape where all of my cells feel like that creepy/sensory exploration Instagram Adventures in Jelly. I am breathless, trembly, can’t stand much, and tire deeply when doing anything out of my ordinary life as it is over the last few weeks. Laying down, doing small tasks around the house, zoning out, waiting, saving memes. I think I might be sick of memes, I’ve overdone it and killed the pleasure sparkles.

A wee detour now to the Strawberry Shortcake VHS story from 1989. My local video store was running a fancy dress competition, and I dressed up as Alf.

Visual description: a shot of ALF from the 1980s tv show with a blue background.

Wearing my mum’s fake fur coat, a brown beanie, fluffy slippers and brown trackie dacks, I was freakin’ adorable. We arrived toward the end of the competition as mum worked mornings, and there were two prizes left to choose from. A Strawberry Shortcake animated series and something that did not interest me. Clutching my prize, we drove home and I inserted the VHS tape. I loved Strawberry Shortcake. We didn’t have any of the branded toys, but my bestie did and they all smelled magical as well as being perfect and fun. I watched the video from start to finish, then rewound and did it all again until it was dinner time. As time went on, I began to resent how much time I devoted to watching this tape, but it never occurred to me to… not do that. After several months I wanted to do anything else but couldn’t control myself so I grabbed mum’s good scissors and sliced through the tape inside the VHS lid, that I could open if I pushed the little button in just so.

Instantly flooded with regret now that I couldn’t watch the tape, I tried to stickytape it back together, but the inevitable tape explosion that occurred had to be undone by one of my brothers who just gave me a weird look without saying anything.

They all knew about my weird viewing habits and were massively irritated by the years long obsession with The Sound of Music which began very early on Saturday mornings accompanied by two beverages. Firstly, the slushy mug that I’d shoved into the freezer the night before, filled with orange cordial. I’d swipe away at it with a steak knife and a long handled teaspoon. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. By the time Leisl and Rolf were gallivanting around the gazebo there’d usually be movement and a good slush happening. Secondly, Mega Milo served in a microwave safe camping mug: the mug packed tight with milo to the 3/4 point, then milk to the top with another thin layer of milo on top of that and microwaved for 1:30.

I noticed that Ertstwilder have a Strawberry Shortcake range coming out soon, and I grimaced and felt sick. Why do I do things so much that they become nauseating? ADHD baybeeeeeee!

Visual description: a Venn diagram with intersecting circles of Ideas, Random, My Focus, Fears and Questions from Totally ADD dot com

Back to the wibbles. I’ve been drawing on what I learned from pneumones recovery. For those not aware, I wound up hospitalised with bilateral pneumonia after waiting for a chesty thing to go away rather than dealing with medical sitchyations. It took months to come back from. I’ve been lifting my little two kilo hand weights and feel my lungs opening up immediately. But then I’m knackered. And when I say knackered I mean destroyed.

I can now put my children to bed, stack and unstack the dishwasher, fold some laundry. I’m sitting in my office and listening to some podcast audio and editing as needed. I’m impatient. I want to be better. I’m going to Melbourne on Thursday for writers group and hoping to make it through.

Earlier I folded some bits and bobs of laundry and found myself fatiguing. Rather than being a pigheaded dickhead about it I got myself some bubbly water and ice (for waking up purposes) and wandered out to my office with Cool. I can sit here and listen to a thing, edit as edits come up, type this Substack. I had slept past 10 am this morning. I’d made so many plans over the weekend to bake muffins for lunchboxes and get on top of things - all those things that loom in piles. It feels selfish to sit here typing when there’s laundry to fold. The audio I’m editing was recorded almost two years ago and have been hovering over my shoulder, shaming me for frankly what is just ADHD.

When other physical tasks aren’t possible I can do these sit and type things. I’m fortunate that I have some paid work to chip away at. I would like more. How do you take work on when you’re not sure what you can manage? The first thing is to identify the fact that your work is still valuable and worthy of inclusion, even though you’re unwell as hell.

One of my 2024 projects is identifying when things aren’t accessible, and saying “I can’t be part of that because:” or “For this to be accessible to me I need:”. It sounds like something I would be doing already, but more often than not I have historically bowed out rather than face the potential conflict of having that conversation.

As always, I share these things not to have a complaino but because I think these might be common experiences. It’s taken me almost two decades of crip life to have the words to apply to them. Having the words takes the mystery out - it takes the self-blame away and transforms it into something more constructive.

Big love to all from me xo