I have to speak my mind before it’s going to implode.
It’s hard to know when to start. Revelations sometimes fall one after another and in trying to pick one, I lose them all. Gotta stay quick, in this race with my own mind, I against I, and more often than not a big chunk of my time goes trying to turn I towards I, together, all parts of me, united as one.
I’m starting this blog because I cannot stand asking myself the same questions on and on. Am I aspie? If I’m not, then why do I feel like this? Why do I care so much, since I don’t even fully take western psychiatry seriously? What I’m expecting for this blog is not as much an answer but a way to verbalize my feelings and inner workings and putting them out there so maybe, maybe, I can connect to someone who feels the same.
I know I’m not unique and I know that so many human experiences are universal. I’ve been trying to explain to myself why I feel like this my whole life, and only very recently did I stumble into the fascinating world of female Asperger’s. Looking at some symptom checklists, I was in awe. This hit so close to home. Sure, not all of it, but there were certain aspects that described me in a way I had not expected. I’ve had a lifetime of mental health issues, treatments with meds, a diagnosis of BPD, major depressive episode, generalized anxiety disorder & other variations of the same theme. I’ve been suffering one way or another since I can remember and the road was filled with bumps and unexpected turns. But this is a story for another time.
Why do I suspect I’m aspie? I’ll keep talking about this, but here are the highlights:
I’ve always been an extremely sensitive person. Ever since childhood, I was easily touched by any kind of violence and a change in the tone of voice. I taught myself how to read when I was a little over 2 years old and I was a very chatty toddler. From age 4-5, I became more and more shy. I played a lot with myself, I had imaginary friends and a very vivid imaginary life. I hunted ghosts, I talked to God. I had a few kids I played with, but many interactions were leaving me confused and in tears.
In school, anxiety started to creep in. I wanted to fit. I wanted to be good. I wanted high grades. School was easy for me, I had no difficulties learning, but that didn’t stop anxiety to creep in and tell me I’m going to fail and wet my palms before every test. Maths was especially challenging. Even though my grades were always good, maths used to panic me really bad. I would get lost in the numbers and feel I can’t keep up and inadvertently end up in tears. Languages, on the other hand, were a breeze. English is not my native language but it was easy to keep up. My native language was a great passion and I would read a lot. I began writing fiction at a young age, my first short piece goes back from when I was 9 or so. I kept diaries, recorded all my feelings.
I had one best friend and was in another group of girls. My best friend was kind, the others, not so much, and I would end up in the same situation over and over again. Confusion. What did I do wrong? Why are they treating me differently today than yesterday? Why am I not fitting in?
Things escalated throughout puberty. They put me on xanax when I was 12 because my anxiety was getting out of control. Not a good idea, giving downers to children. I began cutting when I was 15. The pain I was witnessing, fueled by winter and benzo abuse, would be too much to bear, it needed physicality, release. Substance abuse was a daily occurance. I did not understand where my pain came from and what to do with it. It was all too much.
My friends shunned me. I became an outcast. I tried to kill myself when I was 18. I tried again 3 years later, this time almost successfully. Afterwards, a reset button had been magically pushed. I started recovering, re-discovering who I am. I learned new coping mechanisms. I eliminated all the stress factors I could. I lived in a healthy manner. But something seems to stay the same no matter what I do. The incessant brain chatter. The intrusive, repetitive thoughts. The loops. The anxiety, coming and going, visiting me when I expect it less. The feeling of fatigue, of sometimes having the weight of the world on my shoulders. The sensitivity to so many things: light (frowny face), sound (turn the music down, please!), certain foods, heat, and then there’s the emotional sensitivity.
Every day is a rollercoaster of emotions and feelings that I can’t even describe. There are things going on inside that can’t be explained with words. A certain vividness of feeling. I get a tear of joy when I’m excited about something. I get a tear of love when I see videos of animals bonding with humans or sometimes just having an interaction with a loved one. I get a tear of mixed feelings listening to a song that reminds me of the past and the present. I can’t not be touched by characters in tv shows and movies, I just can’t hold my tears. I have severe crying meltdowns when fighting with my boyfriend because he has the worst coping mechanism for someone like me: being mean and distant, like boys often do. I just melt. Too much to handle. All the extra energy seems to find a way out through my eyes.
I love nature. I spend a lot of time in the forest. I talk to plants and rocks. I need to express myself constantly, I need to create, whether it’s writings or photos or drawings or clay. My main work consists in writing about the environment and I’m up to date with all the current issues we’re facing and I feel very strongly about all of it. (yet another story I’d like to share) I’ve always nurtured a deep love and respect for animals and the natural world.
I have a deep innate sense of justice. My main mission is bettering myself and offering more to others. I get immense guilt trips whenever I perceive I said or did something wrong, especially to someone I care about. I’m very self conscious and self aware, I feel like I’m constantly on a stage when I’m walking in public places. I have a deep longing and appreciation for truths, I keep seeking them within and guiding myself through life according to some deep moral values that I try to respect, belittling myself when I don’t.
I’m deeply passionate about learning things. I’ve read so many different things in this life, from all sorts of literature to articles regarding a variety of subjects. I just really like knowing stuff. I’m like a random trivia generator, spurting along new information to my hopefully interested friends. I can talk for hours about climate change, the metaphysical ways of life, the ways humanity went wrong, capitalism. I’ll just keep sharing my latest reads and get all enthusiastic about the end of the world like it’s the most exciting event you surely can’t miss. I’ve been told to slow down, that I talk too much, that I talk too loud.
I see through the bullshit of society. I see the ways we’re being manipulated, the ways it’s all going wrong, I sense the reasons behind, even though I always remember I can’t really know much and that’s okay. But I wanna know. So I keep searching, and I’m happy when I find people who are on board. I don’t have many close friends, but they’re more than enough. We don’t see each other often, mainly because of distance, but when we do, it’s always magical sparks for me. I still get self-conscious with them sometimes, I still overanalyze things I could’ve said or done better, I still don’t know how to react on the spot if things are serious. I’m a self-help book filled with advice but it’s hard to really grasp the dimensions of the other’s experience. It’s even hard to grasp mine, it just seems too big to hold in this small human body.
As for others, I’m always curious to find new perspectives. Something to get me out of my head. But I can’t say it’s as stimulating as talking to someone who gets me. I get impatient. If I’m getting certain vibes, I will get anxious and highly self-conscious and overanalyzing the whole thing. I’m never fully relaxed. I can’t keep up the small talk for too long. Hanging out in large groups isn’t my cup of tea. Crowds are some of the most tiring experiences. I avoid large stores and chain supermarkets. I avoid busy streets. I avoid going to the city, unless it’s for meeting friends or solving things. You won’t see me just casually strolling on the streets, but you will meet me casually hiking on some forest path. Even going out to the nearest store still gives me a little twinge of anxiety.
I noticed the tendency to mimic others. If I spend more time with someone, I’ll pick up on stuff. From accents to words and other little stuff. I have very high empathy and it gets to the point where sometimes it’s physical. I can barely hear someone telling me about violent, painful or unusual acts. I hurt when I see my dog hurting. I almost feel the pain of a deforested hill. I highly empathize with fictional characters and if I watch or read something for a longer period of time I’ll feel as if I’m part of their lives, as if we’ve been hanging out a lot.
My brain sometimes feel like a broken radiohead. Channels opening, data pouring in, interference going on in the middle of the night. It’s a constant struggle to keep up with it and to hold it back when it gets too much.
This is all a very condensed, leaving-details-behind intro story I was really eager to share with you, dear readers. I hope you won’t take it the wrong way, I hope you won’t misunderstand me. I’m just trying to see the light, writing works but I feel I’ve kept it to myself for so long. Maybe putting myself out there will bring some clarity. Maybe I’ll find my answers in the way I expect it less. Nonetheless, welcome to my journey!
Thank you for reading!