[278/365] losing things
Oct. 5th, 2021 10:58 pmI mentioned after the camping trip that I hadn't appreciated until then how much I rely on leaving my everyday things in a particular place, just so I know where they are the next time I need them so I don't have to use my spoons on looking for them.
It turns out I'm still not appreciating that enough. Because, fortunate as I feel to live for the first time in a house that can pay for cleaners, I have also run into that thing I've heard about so much: I can't find something because the cleaner moved it.
Most things I could find eventually: the bedside lamp wasn't where I reflexively reach to turn it on but it was only a foot away and I could move it back. Or they weren't too much work: I was briefly baffled by where my coffee press was this morning but then saw it tucked into the corner of the kitchen countertop (with the metal filters, which I'd taken apart to clean, inexplicably but easily found, just the other side of the paper towels). But this morning I spent the last ten minutes before an important meeting frantically and fruitlessly and frustratedly trying to find the headset I use for online meetings.
Keeping track of where my things are is not just good in saving me eye spoons, it saves a lot of mental health spoons too because if I can't find something I am very quickly miserable. I am somehow always right back to a childhood of being told "it's right there! right there!" about anything I've failed to locate.
I don't remember being given more helpful help, I certainly don't remember having anything to compare this fear and shame to until I was an adult with other disabled friends (or adjacent) who would give precise instructions and check with me whether I understood their landmarks ("see that white thing there?" and if I did they'll say something like "it's behind that" but if I didn't see the white thing they'll recalibrate their starting point).
Even with the kindness and solidarity, I still hate to be witnessed in this process of being unable to spot something. But alone, unwitnessed, is no better because I just hate it differently. Owning up to my shame is worth it if I can get help, even if the shame is compounded by how trivially easy a sighted person can often find the thing for me. Without that potential for help, I very quickly descend into despair and helplessness at the utter futility of my efforts, and then rage at the helplessness because it's so uncomfortable a feeling, and then the rage is so uncomfortable and so counterproductive too...
My fellow humans were both upstairs so I had lots of time to think about this as I looked angrily around the room. Not angry at the cleaners, maybe angry at myself, maybe just angry because sometimes you can almost feel yourself being, say, less than a foot away from the thing that would make your life so much better right now and yet still so completely lacking in it. It's a horrible, itchy, chest-burster feeling, no doubt actually adrenaline and whatnot but it feels like its own specific torture.
Anyway, I found the headset with a couple minutes to spare: tucked onto a small shelf only as tall as it is, the USB cord tightly and uselessly wrapped around itself.
Of course immediately I thought about mitigation strategies.
Get a box and throw anything of mine that might get moved around into that? Maybe. But it's hard to know what might get moved: an external keyboard and my mouse were right next to the headset yet, if maybe detangled a bit, not moved away from my laptop stand so I don't know why the headset, right there with them, clearly in the same category of computer peripherals, was the only thing that got bafflingly moved.
Leave some kind of instructions not to move my stuff? But they have no way of knowing what's my stuff (my laptop is in a shared space) and what counts as "where I expect it to be" -- I'm fairly tidy but wouldn't want to claim I'm precious about every single thing's precise location because I'm not.
I can be specially careful of the headset next time -- maybe tuck it away myself; there wouldn't have been anything inherently awful about where it'd been put if I knew to look for it there -- but I don't expect it'll be the headset next time, it'll be some other random thing, just like it was some random thing this time that I wouldn't have expected.
I'll figure something out. I'm just writing this as a reminder to myself that I do need to think about this, that where my things are is more important to me than I usually give it credit for.
It turns out I'm still not appreciating that enough. Because, fortunate as I feel to live for the first time in a house that can pay for cleaners, I have also run into that thing I've heard about so much: I can't find something because the cleaner moved it.
Most things I could find eventually: the bedside lamp wasn't where I reflexively reach to turn it on but it was only a foot away and I could move it back. Or they weren't too much work: I was briefly baffled by where my coffee press was this morning but then saw it tucked into the corner of the kitchen countertop (with the metal filters, which I'd taken apart to clean, inexplicably but easily found, just the other side of the paper towels). But this morning I spent the last ten minutes before an important meeting frantically and fruitlessly and frustratedly trying to find the headset I use for online meetings.
Keeping track of where my things are is not just good in saving me eye spoons, it saves a lot of mental health spoons too because if I can't find something I am very quickly miserable. I am somehow always right back to a childhood of being told "it's right there! right there!" about anything I've failed to locate.
I don't remember being given more helpful help, I certainly don't remember having anything to compare this fear and shame to until I was an adult with other disabled friends (or adjacent) who would give precise instructions and check with me whether I understood their landmarks ("see that white thing there?" and if I did they'll say something like "it's behind that" but if I didn't see the white thing they'll recalibrate their starting point).
Even with the kindness and solidarity, I still hate to be witnessed in this process of being unable to spot something. But alone, unwitnessed, is no better because I just hate it differently. Owning up to my shame is worth it if I can get help, even if the shame is compounded by how trivially easy a sighted person can often find the thing for me. Without that potential for help, I very quickly descend into despair and helplessness at the utter futility of my efforts, and then rage at the helplessness because it's so uncomfortable a feeling, and then the rage is so uncomfortable and so counterproductive too...
My fellow humans were both upstairs so I had lots of time to think about this as I looked angrily around the room. Not angry at the cleaners, maybe angry at myself, maybe just angry because sometimes you can almost feel yourself being, say, less than a foot away from the thing that would make your life so much better right now and yet still so completely lacking in it. It's a horrible, itchy, chest-burster feeling, no doubt actually adrenaline and whatnot but it feels like its own specific torture.
Anyway, I found the headset with a couple minutes to spare: tucked onto a small shelf only as tall as it is, the USB cord tightly and uselessly wrapped around itself.
Of course immediately I thought about mitigation strategies.
Get a box and throw anything of mine that might get moved around into that? Maybe. But it's hard to know what might get moved: an external keyboard and my mouse were right next to the headset yet, if maybe detangled a bit, not moved away from my laptop stand so I don't know why the headset, right there with them, clearly in the same category of computer peripherals, was the only thing that got bafflingly moved.
Leave some kind of instructions not to move my stuff? But they have no way of knowing what's my stuff (my laptop is in a shared space) and what counts as "where I expect it to be" -- I'm fairly tidy but wouldn't want to claim I'm precious about every single thing's precise location because I'm not.
I can be specially careful of the headset next time -- maybe tuck it away myself; there wouldn't have been anything inherently awful about where it'd been put if I knew to look for it there -- but I don't expect it'll be the headset next time, it'll be some other random thing, just like it was some random thing this time that I wouldn't have expected.
I'll figure something out. I'm just writing this as a reminder to myself that I do need to think about this, that where my things are is more important to me than I usually give it credit for.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 02:10 am (UTC)a fun toya useful item for some stressful situations, though, so if you have a limited number of valuable items you want to track maybe this will make a nice Christmas gift?(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 03:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-07 01:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 10:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 03:54 pm (UTC)It's a good point though about you having an identical one, I'd forgotten that! Even though that's why I have the one I do!
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 10:58 am (UTC)Just a suggestion. No idea whether it would work.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 06:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 11:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 11:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 11:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 11:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 03:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 04:51 pm (UTC)I suspect there's probably quite a sizeable section of the population who won't file headsets in with computer bits, but instead think "goes with phone" or "goes with stereo".
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 08:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 05:30 pm (UTC)It may be worth talking with the cleaner as to how you conceive of physical organization of spaces, so that even if they move things in trying to organize them, they can do it in a way that you will be able to understand or have less frustration about where things are.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 08:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 10:39 pm (UTC)Or this is unhelpful. If so, please ignore.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 06:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-06 09:47 pm (UTC)I hope you find a solution that works for you and are able to manage the impact of the stuff that you struggle to find in the interim.
It's always difficult to know how to cope with something that is SO hard for us disabled people cos of impairment and yet are easy for people without that impairment and how to deal when assistance is and is not available. I know most sighted people just don't appreciate how useful being able to see stuff easily is, cos it is usually just easy for us. I am glad that your current company people are usually good at finding a mutual landmark and working with you to go from there.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-10-07 11:40 pm (UTC)