so for those of you who don’t know, I was recently diagnosed with ADHD-I. So far, I think my favourite thing that I’ve learned is the idea of “embrace the pivot”.
Have you ever found a productivity system that works for you (whether it be your Google calendar, bullet journaling, agenda-ing, etc), and you’re so pumped because it’s like finally! Now I can actually get some stuff done! But then time passes, days or weeks or years, and the novelty of it runs out, and then it kind of just… Stops working. It can be so frustrating, because this thing that used to work no longer works for seemingly no reason.
But, that isn’t a failing of the thing, that thing worked for a certain amount of time, and that’s good! I used a massive agenda in my first year of uni, and it kept me on track for all my assignments. My second year agenda? Barely touched it. Instead, I started to use a bullet journal, and that was the thing that helped me through most of the year. But as time went on, my spreads got less creative, and in the final term, I didn’t even want to touch it because it was too much work. So I switched to Notion.
The agenda didn’t fail me, and neither did the bullet journal, it just worked for a certain amount of time. And when that time inevitably runs out, you can just say, “thank you for serving me for so long, I’m going to pivot to the next thing.” And then you do it without feeling like you should try harder or like that thing failed you.
This doesn’t just have to apply to productivity either. Systems, tools, habits, hobbies, coping mechanisms.. They all serve their purpose. It’s okay to let them go when the time comes.
Tuira Kayapó brandished her machete in the face of a government official who was trying to convince indigenous leaders to accept a mega-dam project in the Amazon, 1989
“Electricity won’t give us food. We need the rivers to flow freely. Don’t talk to us about relieving our ‘poverty’ – we are the richest people in Brazil. We are Indians.”
part of kayapó’s speech during this event
also! she’s still alive! that sort of thing is always worth pointing out to show that we really aren’t too far removed from events like this! here’s a 2019 photo of her:
hey, i’m sorry, i ate your boyfriend’s heart. yeah it was after he slandered, scorned and dishonoured my kinswoman. in the marketplace yeah. i mean he was approved in the height a villain so- yeah no i’m really sorry
My favorite part of the notes on this one is that half are saying “Okay but Beatrice wouldn’t be sorry though” and the other half are like “Okay but I’m not sorry though.” All of you are valid but some of you are too wise to woo peaceably.
The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.
I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There’s so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, “anxiety”) without getting a single test done.
And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor’s initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I’d ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!
We’re not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren’t typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.
There’s a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they’d throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you’ll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.
Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that’s just how doctors are.
Except…
I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I’m trans because I still haven’t managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.
I knew men didn’t face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.
The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn’t represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn’t even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I’d had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn’t even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn’t be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.
Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word “anxiety”.
There’s also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I’ve had bad reactions to almost everything I’ve tried, because that’s what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I’m allergic to the whole world.
And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I’d been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I’m not convinced though.
His response? That’s an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that’s no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He’s researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.
I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.
That’s it. I’ve reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.
I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else’s idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I’d like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I’ve been given or come up with myself, and every medication I’ve tried and my reactions to it - something I’ve never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.
Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you’ve never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say “I won’t consider that possibility until you’ve been cleared by a psychologist” for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you’re just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.
Now that I’m visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I’ve been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.
If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you’d take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.
It’s hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I’ve lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn’t get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.
I’m glad I’m getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I’m angry that it took so long. And I’m furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.
you want to watch a movie. you put it on. two hours have passed. you haven’t watched the movie. there are five new tasks in front of you. you want to watch a different movie.
there is an object in your hand. it is extremely important you don’t lose it. you look down. there is nothing in your hand.
you don’t know your friend’s name. you’ve been friends for months. they just told you their name. you do not know their name.
your friend doesn’t laugh at your joke. why didn’t they laugh? do they hate you? they assure you otherwise. you know they are lying. did they ever like you?
someone asks you what you just said. did you say something? you said so many things. you said nothing. you said everything.
there is something you’re forgetting. you check. you check again. there is nothing you’re forgetting. there is something you’re forgetting.
you had something to say. you can’t remember. it was important. wasn’t it? you can’t remember.
there is a task that needs to be done. it should take ten minutes. you check the clock. it’s been five minutes. you check the clock. it’s been two days.
