Tag Archives: mental health

August 10, 2025 · 12:55 PM

How to Do Everything in One Lifetime

Alright. Confession time.

I’m an atheist.

I know. I know. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. If I lose reader(s) over this, I’ll understand.

The thing is, I don’t think you understand how much I wish, wish, wish I believed in some kind of After. It’s incredibly daunting to be absolutely certain in my belief that This Is It. Along those lines, I would be delighted to be proved wrong after my life on this ball we call Earth is over. Even Hell would be a kind of comfort. Sure, there’s torture. But there’s also a continuation of consciousness, which is a gift Satan/the Devil/Beelzebub/Ben Stein (whoever’s in charge) can’t take away from me.

Side Note: If Hell truly is a burning pit, then the aforementioned Evil Leader wouldn’t have to do much else to ensure my eternal torment. I hate the heat with (heh) a fiery passion. Just leave me in some humidity at a temperature above 70 degrees (Fahrenheit) and I’ll be a sweaty, angry, puddle of misery for the rest of time.

Anyway, what I’m saying is, I wish the term YOLO hadn’t been co-opted by dude-bros and Linked In Lunatics because… it’s kind of true (to me). And if you only have one life to live, well… as Clark Gable once said on the set of Casablanca, “Live, Laugh, Love.”

The way I see it, if you’re waiting for the next incarnation or some kind of After to learn how to drive stick shift, or travel the world, or watch birds through binoculars (colloquially referred to as “bird watching”), then… well… what if there isn’t an After? Maybe it’s better to try some fun stuff out now. Just in case.

As such, I have compiled a handy-dandy list of supplies and to-dos for you to begin your doing-everything journey. It’s fun! Here are the three biggest, most important rules to live by:

Give yourself permission to try as many new things as you want. Don’t hold yourself back because you already have “enough” side projects, or you “never finish anything,” or your boss wants you to work more overtime.
Give yourself permission to drop something the second you lose interest. Don’t think of it as “never finishing” stuff, or you “failing” at something. Think of it as that thing failing you. You’re not bad at graphic design. Graphic design is bad at being interesting and engaging! So there!
Give yourself permission to not be perfect right away, or ever. You can enjoy doing something and be mediocre at it! These things are not mutually exclusive. The key question is: Are you enjoying it? If not, see Rule 2 above.

Recommended Supplies:

(Optional) One (1) ADHD diagnosis
(If possible) Smart Phone
Libby app (and/or library card if you prefer print media)
How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster
Unmasking Autism by Devon Price
How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis
Modern Dried Flowers by Angela Maynard
Stephen Biesty’s Incredible Cross-Sections of Everything Illustrated by Stephen Biesty, Written by Richard Platt
(For people who plan to procreate or are currently expecting) Expecting Better by Emily Oster
Calendar and/or Calendar App and/or Planner and/or Planner App
Focus Friend, by Hank Green (Your focus friend is a bean that likes to knit.)

I named mine Lyndon Bean Jonson (the character limit necessitated eliminating the H in Johnson)

12. Art Supply Basics (paper, pencils, crayons, markers, ruler, scotch tape, masking tape, sharpies)
13. (If funds allow) An actual digital camera
14. A microphone that hooks up to your phone and/or computer
15. A good set of headphones and/or earbuds
16. A YouTube account
17. At least one musical instrument (marimba, ukulele, concertina, whatever suits your fancy)
18. A good therapist (I wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of this)
19. Water bottle (reusable, washable, etc. You gotta hydrate!)
20. Rain Rain app (for when you need to meditate, relax, and/or sleep more easily)

They have a section called Only Fans. I respect this.

Got all that? Okay. Good. A lot of this stuff is free or reasonably priced. Yay! You can do what you want to do, even in this economy. Feel free to choose your own reading schedule, add or remove books at your discretion. Use the planner or calendar of your choosing to schedule your time and plan out the order of doing things that interest you. Or just go nuts and improvise every day if you enjoy chaos.

Remember this list is variable! Maybe you are tone deaf or just have no interest in creating music. Strike number 17 off the list. You just got really into embroidery? Time to add needles and thread to the list. You just realized you actually hate embroidery? Time to take needles and thread right back off the list.

How do you explore your interests? How do you find out all the things you potentially love to do? It’s hard to do in a country (in a world?) where the first thing we ask kids of a certain age is, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I hate this question. Please replace it with something like, “What do you like doing?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” is a question that says:

Hello, small child. Have you started thinking yet about how you will contribute in a meaningful way to the capitalist machine that is our society?
Think only of the future. Childhood is meaningless. You’re not even a person yet. You will only have value when you are an adult.
You can only ever be one thing.
Once you decide on what to “be,” you are stuck with that. You can never quit, change your mind, or add another thing. (At least not without years of therapy to help you overcome the shame and feelings of inadequacy.)
Work/Career = Life. Hobbies are for sissies.

You can be and do many things! Try looking up a university course catalog and reading through the offerings, just to give yourself an idea of all the interests that exist out there. Ask your friends what they do in their free time. (“Video games” IS a valid answer!) Take a class. Watch random tutorials on YouTube with that YouTube account you have thanks to item 16 on the above list.

Look things up. Go down a Wikipedia rabbit hole. Sit on a park bench and people watch. Start writing a novel. Start writing fifteen novels and never finish any of them. Buy a fancy journal, write three entries in it, then never add another entry. Go to your local game/comic shop and see if you can learn how to play DnD or Magic: The Gathering, maybe even join a regularly scheduled game night.

You may or may not only live once, but this is the life you happen to have right now. There’s no need to waste it, no need to confine or limit yourself based on societal expectations for how adults act, or the promise of another even better life after this one.

I have flowers drying in my craft room. Are they already dry? I don’t know! Maybe they’re drying improperly. Or I cut them wrong. But they’re there!

I have a bag of oyster shells!

The booth next to mine at the annual street fair last month was one of those pick-your-own-oyster-get-a-pearl dealios. Not only did they give me a vendor discount to pick an oyster, but they sent me home with a bag of shells. I combined two of my random hobbies to make this necklace I adore.

Blown glass pendant + Resin + Pearl + Oyster Shell Pieces

I made zines! Why did I make zines? Because adults deserve arts and crafts, too!

I made sourdough starter and named it Jeffrey Dough Morgan.

I tried to start a little garden in my backyard and failed SPECTACULARLY. I now have a “garden” of invasive weeds, two zinnias that managed to survive the weed invasion, and four sunflowers I didn’t plant.

My site header is a mess of tabs because I keep adding on new hobbies that I feel the need to share somewhere.

They talk about “Jack of all trades, master of none.” But they never ask what is, to me, the most important question:

Is Jack happy?

Jack deserves to live a happy life. And so do you.

Finally Emptying the Dishwasher

When I was 31 years old, I was diagnosed with ADHD. The realization of my neurodivergence was overwhelming and bittersweet. All these doors in my brain flew open at once. It was a flood of realizations about my behavior—past and present—mixed with new strategies to try, mixed with regrets about how I’d lived my life up until the point of my diagnosis.

The first time I emptied the dishwasher after I started ADHD medication, I burst out crying. All my life, emptying the dishwasher had been a daunting task. When I was younger, I had to be forced to do it by my mother, who was desperately trying to teach me responsibility. Each time, after a lot of dragging my heels and griping and crying, I discovered (or rediscovered) that the task was easy. Simple. Quick.

Why had I gotten so distraught? Surely, I could remember how easy this task was the next time I had to do it.

Nope.

Years and years passed with me facing down a full dishwasher like I had been asked to clean all the public bathrooms at UCLA with a single toothbrush.

As an adult, with no mommy to force me to do chores, I ended up using the dishwasher like a catch-all dish cabinet. By the time I emptied it, it had been clean for three days and was already mostly empty from me picking clean dishes out of it on an as-needed basis.

Then I had to face the equally daunting task of *gasp* filling the dishwasher!

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

(So to speak)

Then medication happened. I saw the full dishwasher. My brain went, “Oh. I should empty that.” And I did.

Why did I cry?

Like I said: Bittersweet. On the one hand, I finally had the answers to a lot of questions. I could look at myself in the mirror and know I wasn’t stupid or lazy. Or broken. “Broken” was a word that haunted me for most of my adolescence and young adulthood.

On the other hand, I could have avoided so much tension and stress and pain and self-recrimination if I’d known earlier.

But what’s the point of steeping myself in regrets on what could have been? The only reality I have to live in is the one in which it could not have been. While I’m not a believer in fate, per se, I do believe that all the past events of my life were, in a very literal way, meant to be. I am who I am because of all the pluses and minuses, the mistakes, the joys, the triumphs. All learning experiences in their own way.

I focus now on the future, on taking my newfound self-awareness and using it to better understand myself and create coping mechanisms that work for me.

I can even tell now why emptying the dishwasher filled me with dread: It’s because my brain could not see a task and break it down into component parts or steps. I saw a full dishwasher and my brain said, “Make this empty.” Step 1: Full. Step 2: Empty.

With medication, I saw a full dishwasher and my brain, for the first time ever, went, Step 1: Take out a plate. Step 2: Take out another plate. Etcetera.

Imagine seeing a jigsaw puzzle and thinking, “I have to make these pieces into a single image in one step,” while simultaneously knowing that’s impossible, and being aware that assembling a puzzle requires moving through it piece by piece, but also not knowing where to start and being paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the task. It’s like that… for everything. Doing the laundry. Organizing the pantry. Picking up after the kids.

Now I am struggling with a new obstacle. I can empty the dishwasher, in theory, but I am also a stay-at-home-mom to two neurodivergent children. My new process for emptying the dishwasher goes something like…

Step 1: Take out a plate and put it in the cabinet

Step 2: Answer the insistent repetition of “MOMMY” from the other room

Step 3: Get older son a snack

Step 4: Take another plate out of the dishwasher and put it away

Step 5: Investigate the crash you just heard from the other room

Step 6: Try to impress upon your non-verbal younger son that he cannot throw canned goods around the living room

Step 7: Remove another plate from the dishwasher

Step 8: Notice that younger son is covered head to toe in melted chocolate

Step 9: Clean chocolate off of bath-hating younger son

Step 10: Clean up the canned goods that he definitely continued to throw around the room

Step 11: Watch him remove the canned goods from the cabinet again

Step 12: MOMMMMMMMYYYYYY

Step 13: “Ah! Stop! You can’t climb that! Get down!”

Step 14: Give up

It’s frustrating. Not gonna lie. I finally have all the answers to my problems, but I can’t implement the solutions as well as I’d like. Fortunately, I have my husband to help pick up the slack. But I wanted to impress upon you, dear reader, the uphill battle that is coping with newly discovered neurodivergence as an adult.

This all came about because I started reading How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis, a book I highly recommend. It is extremely helpful to realize you’re not alone, which is another reason for this post. For me, reading things like the aforementioned book, and web comics like ADHDinos, and social media posts from other Millennials who were diagnosed with ADHD later in their lives, provides regular, much-needed doses of not-aloneness. It’s a revelation, truly, to understand how not-alone I am. How (ironically) typical my experience is. The Internet has done some good things for humanity. One of those things is connecting people who are going through similar struggles. Sometimes it’s enough just to know you’re heard and seen.

So, for the record: You are heard. You are seen. You are not stupid. You are not lazy. You are not broken.

Love,
Bex

Donald Trump is the Wrong Genre

There is a section of the Passover seder that has been circling around in my head called “Dayenu” or (read right to left) דַּיֵּנוּ‎. It translates to, “It would have been enough.” Part song, part call-and-response, a reader lists the miracles and wonders God enacted during the exodus from Egypt. After each item listed, the responders say, “Dayenu” to acknowledge that He had already provided, and they would have been grateful even if He had stopped there.

For example, “If He had taken us from Egypt, but not parted the Red Sea… Dayenu.”

It would have been enough.

I have a different version of Dayenu in my head for Donald Trump, a man I hope never to write about ever again after this.

What can I say about this orange-lacquered sack of fart vapor that hasn’t been said already? The man’s brain is a half-eaten pudding cup that has been left out in the sun for a week. And the most complimentary thing I can say about him is that, at one point, it’s possible his brain was a half-eaten pudding cup that hadn’t yet been left out in the sun.

But he never had a full pudding cup! I’m sure of that!

I’m confident he cannot now, nor could he ever, name the three branches of the U.S. government. I think, if someone wanted to, they could tell him the president is the “Execution Branch” of the government, and he would believe it. He’d probably like it! This just hit me as I was typing, and I feel such… resignation. He’d like the sound of being the “Executioner.” I’m certain of it.

I don’t know how to speak Hebrew, so I don’t know if “It should have been enough” can be translated accurately into one word. But that’s what it is.

In my head, it goes like this:

When he bragged about using his status as a celebrity to sexually assault women…

It should have been enough.

When he mocked a disabled reporter…

It should have been enough.

When he watched hundreds of thousands of Americans die from a highly contagious virus while spouting misinformation, inciting violence against Asians and Asian-Americans, and failing to provide necessary medical supplies and aid to doctors, nurses, and hospitals…

It should have been enough.

When he incited a riot on Capitol Hill…

It should have been enough.

When he was charged and convicted with 34 counts of felony document falsification…

It should have been enough.

When he claimed immigrants were eating people’s cats and dogs, once again blithely stirring up hatred and violence towards a vulnerable population…

It should have been enough.

When he watched a man sieg heil on stage two times at his inauguration, and did nothing…

It should have been enough.

When he began trafficking people to a torture prison in El Salvador, and did not stop when he was ordered to by the courts…

It should have been enough.

When he refused court orders to bring an innocent man back to his family…

It should have been enough.

When he, a man who has made full use of due process of the law time and time again, claimed there wasn’t time to give people due process…

It should have been enough.

When he was told that stores would soon have empty shelves due to tariffs, and responded by saying American children would have to make do with “two dolls instead of thirty”…

It should have been enough.

I could go on. And on. And on. That’s the problem, isn’t it? For all I’ve listed here, there are five hundred things I didn’t list. Children in cages at the border? Saying Kamala Harris “suddenly” became Black? Canada as the 51st state? Thinking “transgenic” mice were transgender??

I would be the proverbial monkey at the typewriter, banging on the keys to infinity, never able to stop because there would always be more. Except I’d never get around to accidentally producing Shakespeare’s plays because I’d be too busy listing crimes and atrocities.

Not to mention stupidities. Donald Trump regularly commits stupidities.

Any one of the things listed above should have been enough. It should have been more than goddamn enough!

This all came about because of a very real question I felt the need to ask my editor a few weeks ago. Before we got into the meat of our um… meeting… homophones are weird… I had to ask her for her opinion on including or excluding politics in the novel. Because Trump’s presidency, his existence, does not work for the Romance genre. And, if I’m being honest, it doesn’t work for reality.

If you met someone who woke up from a ten-year coma today, and listed every major point of Trump’s political career from start to finish, I bet you wouldn’t actually get to finish. I bet they’d stop you pretty quickly. You wouldn’t even be able to get to D.O.G.E. But if you did, that’s where they’d stop you for sure.

“Enough!” they’d yell. “You’re making this up. It doesn’t even sound like good fiction. It sounds like a poor attempt at parody.”

“You’re right, learned ex-coma-patient,” you would respond. “It does sound like the worst kind of parody. Now let’s get you back to bed. I probably should’ve taken your vitals before trying to catch you up on what you missed.” (You are a medical professional in this scenario.)

I mean… can you imagine what would happen if I acknowledged our current reality in the fiction I constructed? It occurred to me that the moment a character brings up Donald Trump, that would be the moment when the book becomes exclusively about Donald Trump. How could they ever talk about anything else?

So I got permission from my editor to not bring up politics. Not anchor the book in any given time period. Not mention who is president. Just not. Full stop.

Because our current president belongs in parody. In farce. In heavy-handed satire.

Like… imagine if you were watching Wall-E, and, instead of the late Fred Willard as the live-action president, you saw Donald Trump. Would you even blink? It feels like he fits there, doesn’t it? It’s so terrifying and sad and ludicrous. It’s… terrsadicrous.

I just needed to get that off my chest. I am so excited to be published and to continue going through this process, but I also feel deeply, tragically, lost. I needed to get the sadness out of me. Now I intend to focus, as much as I can, on the happy. It feels wrong to do that, I’ll admit. I feel a kind of survivor’s guilt maybe? I am (relatively) safe. I am (relatively) secure. So many others aren’t. At time of writing, Kilmar Abrego Garcia still isn’t home with his family. How dare I celebrate at a time like this? But I must. I simply must. It won’t stop me from hurting for all the people who are not safe and secure, but I feel I will truly lose my mind if I can’t also allow myself happiness.

It should have been enough, and enough, and enough. A thousand times over, it should have been enough.

Here’s an art I did of the orange fartsicle:

Tag Archives: mental health

How to Do Everything in One Lifetime

Finally Emptying the Dishwasher

Donald Trump is the Wrong Genre

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